Nothing, not even their clunky helmets, could hide the accusations in their scrutiny. The same initial shock of recognition that I had noticed in Pipes and Deakon now stood on the faces of the guards. But they didn’t seem as pleased to see me. I tried to ignore it but couldn’t. The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge, and every muscle in me tightened. I wanted to run and hide. I walked, slower than I thought possible, not wanting to give them any more reason to question me. I held my breath as we walked across the wooden bridge and entered the busy marketplace. “Good luck,” Pipes whispered, brushing past me. “Huh?” I asked, dumbfounded by my surroundings. “Good luck,” he repeated, leaning closer. “Heed my words: get what you need and get out. Lindle’s not a safe place, especially now. Especially for you, even if you know what you’re doing,” he said. He bowed theatrically and patted Deakon on the shoulder. Their painted smiles didn’t erase the concern in their eyes.
