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“Children looking for sport,” Ekhaas said. “We should be lucky it was only stones—”

There was an ominous grinding from overhead. Ashi glanced up just in time to see the rough bricks of a chimney tilt and topple into the alley. The bricks fell several paces behind them, but the goblins who had followed them into the alley weren’t so lucky. A couple were down, clutching heads covered in dust, bits of mortar, and blood. Those who had escaped the falling bricks were shaking their fists and shrieking in fury at their unseen tormentors.

A creeping sensation ran along Ashi’s spine. Stones had stopped falling at the mouth of the alley as if those on the rooftop had tired of their game, but with the collapse of the chimney, no one else was venturing down the alley.

“I don’t like this,” she said. She looked at Ekhaas and the hobgoblin nodded. The fallen chimney and injured goblins blocked the way back along the alley. Ekhaas jerked her head and they continued on, moving more quickly, one eye on the bright gap of sky above.

The alley opened into a yard of packed earth. Aside from some chickens clucking with dim curiosity and three hobgoblin children, too young to have possibly climbed up to the roofs, staring from a patch of mud in one corner, the yard was empty. Those who had entered the alley before Ashi and Ekhaas were gone, down a second alley that gaped at the other end of the yard. Ashi’s neck prickled again. They were in the open. She whirled, running backward so she could look up at the rooftops.

And just in time. A mighty roar split the air as the bulky silhouette of a bugbear came swinging out of the sunlight, the trident clenched in one massive fist stabbing down at her.

Ashi flung herself aside. Their attacker drew his legs under himself and landed in a crouch, soaking up the hard impact and pushing off again to lunge at Ashi. She rolled, and the trident stabbed packed earth. He kept after her, thrusting again and again as she scrambled away. Chickens flapped and leaped around the clear space. The hobgoblin children were pressed up into a corner, screaming.

The bugbear spun the trident in his grip and swiped at her with the butt of the shaft. It caught her across the face and blood sprayed from her mouth as she went sprawling sideways. She twisted, catching herself, and stared up at him, anger at the unprovoked attack flooding through her—then giving way to shock.

She knew the bugbear. She recognized the bear hide vest, the trident, his face, his sneer.

Makka.

She didn’t have a chance to say anything though. “Ashi!” shouted Ekhaas. “Move!”

The warning might have been intended for her, but Makka understood it too. Even as Ashi sprang away, he spun to face Ekhaas.

The duur’kala stood at a distance, sword drawn but held low. Ashi saw Makka blink with confusion. Then Ekhaas drew a breath—and sang.

Dust jumped from the ground in a thin yellow cloud as waves of battering sound burst around Makka. Ashi caught the very edge of the magical attack and it was as if all of the noise that the crowd had made in cheering Haruuc’s funeral procession were focused on her.

Makka reeled under the assault of the song, then roared defiance and charged Ekhaas on unsteady legs.

Ashi ripped her sword from its scabbard and leaped to meet him, knocking aside the trident before he could reach Ekhaas. Makka jumped away from the follow-through and dropped into a crouch, weapon at the ready.

Ashi crouched across from him, every hard breath sending a little spray of blood from a broken lip. “You!” she panted.

Ekhaas recognized him, too. “Makka,” she said. She moved in cautiously, trying to flank him. Makka moved the trident between them, pointing the weapon first at one, then the other, as he shifted backward to stay clear. Chickens and children had both settled into frightened silence along the walls. Ashi watched his feet. Ekhaas watched his face. “What are you doing here?” the duur’kala asked in Goblin.

Makka didn