“I don’t like you and I don’t trust you,” Cole said. “I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again. If you do, you better watch out.”

Ansel gave a dry laugh. “You just threatened me! That makes you the only living person to have done so.”

Several paces behind Cole, a door crashed open. Ham staggered through, breathing hard, face red, pate sweaty.

“Away,” Cole said, and he sprang back across the alley. He glanced down at Ansel. “Really?”

“I never agreed he wouldn’t come up the other building,” Ansel said.

“Door at the top was locked,” Ham apologized.

“Leave me alone,” Cole said. “I’m not running because I’m guilty. I’m running because you’re chasing me.”

Without waiting for a response, Cole pointed his sword, gave the command, and jumped to a more distant rooftop a couple of stories higher than his current position. Two more hops, and he found himself near a major street. After some brief reconnaissance, Cole jumped down into an empty alleyway adjoining the street. Trying to shake the suspicion that he was being watched and followed, he exited the alley and joined the crowd.

Chapter 5

EAST CARTHAGE

As he made his way eastward through the streets of Carthage, Cole struggled to regain his composure. Without the Jumping Sword, Ansel would have nabbed him. Cole was unnervingly aware that he had almost become a slave again. It had been nice to pretend the freemark had ended that problem. But if Ansel cut off the hand with the freemark, what protection would he have?

Cole tried to look casual and blend in, but he kept flexing the fingers of his marked hand. It wouldn’t stop shaking. He felt exposed. Should he have kept to the rooftops, using his Jumping Sword to put more distance between himself and Ansel? Or would that have only drawn more attention? Should he find a place to hide? Or would that just give Ansel time to catch up? Cole quickened his pace.

Ham had shown up out of nowhere. How many more of Ansel’s people were already in pursuit? Cole strained to recall the different slavers from the caravan, watching for them in all directions.

Twitch had been right about crowds. There were too many eyes. Sure, you gained some anonymity among the big groups of people. But if you were being hunted, you ran the risk of crossing paths with the wrong person.

You also risked not seeing the people chasing you. In his imagination, Cole could almost feel the cool touch of steel as a wickedly sharp sickle slid across his throat from behind. He kept one hand near the Jumping Sword, ready to draw it and take off if needed, crowd or no crowd.

Would Ansel really sever his hand? What kind of a world was this? Cole’s problems used to involve getting his homework done on time and coping with an annoying sister. Now he had enemies who wanted to chop him up and enslave him! The threat might have been a bluff to scare him into surrendering. But probably not. Cole had the shivery feeling that Ansel was capable of that much, and worse.

He wasn’t sure whether to mesh with the crowds or avoid them. It all depended on how Ansel decided to search for him. The major streets seemed like the most obvious places to look, so Cole steered away from them. The smaller streets offered less cover, but he had a better chance of seeing trouble coming and jumping away without causing a scene.

As Cole progressed from block to block, the buildings around him began to look dilapidated. Sagging roofs, weathered surfaces, broken windows, and boarded-up doors all caught his eye. The people wore shabbier clothes. Several eyed him and his sword. One man with a growth of graying stubble on his face openly sized up Cole as he walked by. Cole tried not to pay too much attention to the man, but he couldn’t help noticing when the stranger started following him.

Cole tried to heed Jace’s advice. He needed to look like he belonged here. But he was young, he couldn’t hide his sword, and though somewhat soiled, his clothes were nice. He knew he stood out.

At the next corner, Cole turned and moved along the cross street. He glanced back. The stubbly stranger still followed him, walking fast enough to shrink the distance between them. He saw Cole’s glance and raised a hand, palm cupped. “Spare a ringer or two?” he asked.

Cole looked away. Taking out even a couple of ringers would reveal his stash. Cole imagined that if the people of this neighborhood knew how much cash he had on him, they would devour him like piranhas.

“Sorry,” Cole said over his shoulder.

The man broke into a shuffling jog. “Wait up, friend. Where are you heading?”

“To the east side of town,” Cole replied, unsure whether he should break into a run.

“East Carthage?” the man verified. “You took a bad turn, lad. This isn’t a safe part of the city. You need a guide, or you’re going to run into trouble.”

Cole’s instincts warned that this man was the trouble. In a few more steps the man would catch up to him.

Drawing his sword, Cole stopped and faced the stranger, even though the man was head and shoulders taller than him. “Back off,” he said, forcing his voice to sound firm. “I’m having a bad day.”

The man raised both hands. “What’s this? Are you coming into my neighborhood and threatening me?”

“I’m not looking for friends or guides,” Cole said. “Just leave me alone.”

The man’s eyes switched to a spot above and beyond Cole. The man gave a faint nod. Cole looked back in time to see another man lunge at him. Jabbing his sword at a drooping balcony across the street, Cole spoke the command and jumped.

Hands reached for him, but they arrived too late. Cole took flight and barely cleared the scarred railing to land three floors above the ground. Both men gawked up at him from below, mouths gaping.

“You don’t see that every day,” the stubbly man said. “Who’d have guessed he was some kind of shaper?”

The other man gave a dismissive wave and trudged away, shaking his head. They didn’t seem to be partners. Acquaintances maybe. The other guy had sensed easy prey and had wanted in on the action.

Aiming his sword at the roof of the building across the street, Cole jumped there. From the higher vantage point, he had a better view of the area, though taller buildings blocked the sight of East Carthage. He ran along the roof and sprang to another building, then another.

It was freeing and exhilarating to watch the shabby streets breeze by beneath his feet, and for a moment, he actually let go of his anxiety and just enjoyed the sensation of soaring. Who could catch him when he had his Jumping Sword?