The narrow desert streets hummed with heat and voices, the air thick with the scents of herbs, spices, and sweat. Elowyn ghosted through the crowd as she moved from one shadow to another, half a step behind her quarry. Her orders were clear - assassinate the defector. There would be no forgiveness for traitors to the Mastaba Syndicate.

 

She’d tracked him over sandy dunes and through trade routes from the city of Zouthis to Daqronis - a cesspool of shifting alliances. He hadn’t seen her yet. The assassin watched from a safe distance as he moved between stalls until suddenly, he glanced in her direction. His head jerked. Eyes widened.

 

She’d been seen.

 

The man dashed towards a group of three Ghosts - the self-appointed keepers of the city - and shouted. “Her!” He exclaimed, pointing in her direction. “She’s after me - she’s with the Mastaba! Catch her!”

 

Elowyn’s blood ran cold. If they captured her, the job would be finished, and so would she. That can’t happen, she thought, her eyes flicking as sharp as a hawk’s through the market in search of an escape.

 

As the Ghosts began marching in her direction, she found one. Pulling her hood tighter, she slipped between tightly packed stalls, ducking and weaving in hopes of losing her pursuers in the crowd. It was no use. Hot on her heels, the rogue scrambled to find another way out, but these streets were packed and unfamiliar.

 

Frantically, her head swiveled in search of a new means of escape, casting her gaze over the market once more. A stall stacked high with dates. Another selling a variety of exotic silks. And then, across the street she saw them. A druid, dressed in sandy garb, with tanned skin and features not unlike her own. Wrong place, wrong time.

 

Weaving between shoppers, she snuck behind the druid as she spoke with a boy selling waterskins. Discretely, she removed her hood and hung it on the woman’s belt before turning to another market stall. There, she pretended to eye a baker’s goods, all while watching the Ghosts approach from her periphery. They paused to search for their fugitive before one of them spotted Elowyn and pointed.

 

“There she is,” the one who spotted her spoke in a gruff tone.

 

The rogue stood up just a bit straighter as she turned to face her pursuers.

 

“Who, me?” Elowyn began, donning a wide, practiced smile. “You must be mistaken. I’m just shopping for groceries. You must be looking for her.” She pointed toward the druid with a gloved hand. “She just came tearing through here before taking off that hood. I assume she must have done something for you all to be looking for her.”

 

The Ghosts glanced between the rogue, the druid, and then finally, one another. Frowning, their apparent leader said, “Seize them both. We’ll sort out the details later.”

 

Without a shred of mercy, they grabbed both women by the shoulders and bound their wrists with iron shackles. “What-?! Wait! Let me go!” The druid protested with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Elowyn swallowed a curse as their captors roughly hauled them away.

 

She’d been in sticky situations before, but how would she wriggle out of this one?