It took a long time for the murderous rage to finally subside.

At first, Jett wanted to stay, wanted to kill the other enforcers to slake her bloodlust, but she had, just barely, dragged herself away.

Leaving Fleur behind.

It was a betrayal that left a sickness in her gut, but the alternative would have signed her own death warrant. She couldn't hang around for a burial, couldn't go to a lawhouse to report what had happened. All she could do was make sure Fleur's sacrifice didn't go to waste.

Wiping away the last of the tears, Jett sprinted back into the district outskirts, leaving the corpse of her friend for the wolfkin to find. Guilt wrenched at her with grasping claws, but she pressed on. She found a secluded spot between a pair of huge refuse collection skips to change out of the blood-soaked clothes, even though the stains of crimson remained on her fur. Fighting down the urge to vomit, she gathered up the clothes and hurled them out of sight and out of mind into one of the skips.

The last items of clothing she had were simple—a dark brown, sleeveless bodywrap and grey kilt—and with a heavy heart, she slung her pack back across her shoulders. It was lighter now, and it was all she had left in the world.

On she jogged, making her way down and away from the tram carrier station of Carlikane, instead finding the thin stairs and rampways that led down to the loading docks for the district canal. Keeping her head down but eyes ever watchful, she slithered through the dank shadows as the rushing of the canals grew louder in her ears, memories of her earlier plunge still raw in her mind. She stepped off and out onto Carlikane's modest docks, the scent of engine fumes and churning water filling her nostrils. A half dozen piers jutted into the grey sloshing water, and activity thrummed all along the hardwood dockside.

The vast majority of the kin that bustled back and forth were otterkin and beaverkin, more naturally inclined to the waterways than others in the city. She could see the odd hulking bearkin mixed in, towering individuals happy to sell their innate size and strength to haul crates wherever they were needed. Thick-armed cranes swooped overhead, loading and unloading, and she saw sleek-bodied otterkin diving in and out of the water, armed with long, heavy punt poles to ease barges into the docks to anchor.

Without using the tram carriers, the canal network was the only other reliable way of crossing the city, connecting almost every district. Mostly the great, brick-shaped canal boats carried freight goods all over the city, but most of the barge herders were happy to take an extra payment on the side to transport passengers.

Not wasting time, Jett quickly questioned the nearest supervisor she could find, hunting for a boat heading to the Iolk District. The beaverkin directed her down to the far dock where a small, almost grumpy-looking barge was moored, its hull smeared soot black and with a wiry otterkin barge herder directing his loaders with terse, rasping commands.

She waited for a gap in the series of cargo containers being loaded into the hold before darting up to the otterkin and explaining where she wanted to go. The barge herder barely shrugged, and once she'd paid him a nominal fee for adding her to his manifest, he inclined his head to the cargo hold.

Jett entered the dingy, damp underbelly of the barge and settled down in a corner to wait.

***

Somehow the smog-cloaked warrens of Iolk felt appropriate right now. She stepped onto the docks with furious determination driving her steps through the chemical-laden air. The taste didn't bother her now; she barely even noticed it as she mounted the steps leading to the district proper. Most boisterous otterkin and beaverkin dock workers barely glanced at her, more concerned with hauling the heavy metal cargo crates from the barge. Jett thanked the barge herder for a safe journey and then slipped away, grateful to be stretching her legs after the cramped, three-hour ride.

She didn't have directions coming from the dock, but she had a rough idea of where in Iolk Karno's shop was situated. Once she found the grubby main thoroughfare again, it was a simple matter of tracing back towards the tram carrier station until she found the landmarks she remembered from her first visit.

Descending into the labyrinth of the lower streets, she trudged uncaring through the kin that called this stinking warren home. She clashed shoulders with a scruffy, wizened vulkin, but when he turned to confront her, she jammed the blade of the longclaw to his neck with a savage snarl. The vulkin put his paws up, eyes wide with fear. Jett trembled, barely stopping herself from killing him there and then. With an effort, she withdrew the blade and shoved him aside, stalking into the darkness and leaving muttering bystanders in her wake.

When the sign for Karno's shop came into view, Jett felt a sense of both relief and apprehension. She'd reached her destination in one piece, but now what? She thought back to those last words that Fleur had gasped out to her. He knew the wolfkin. Karno had made his disgust for Conclave politics clear even in their first brief encounter—evidently, there was more to it than simple political apathy.

She descended into the ditch and put her shoulder on the solid slab of the door. Its heavy hinges creaked in protest as she forced her way into the tech den. Jett slammed it shut behind her, locking out the rest of the world before turning, her bloodshot eyes roving through the gloom until she spotted Karno hunched over a small workbench in the corner of the shopfront, a soldering iron smoking in one paw.

"Had a feeling you'd be coming," he said, not looking up from his work. "Make yourself comfortable."

Jett cocked a dubious eyebrow and glanced around. There were no chairs in the shop, just racks of merchandise. She folded her arms and glared at him.

"This is important," she said, fighting to keep her voice level.

"I'm sure it is." Karno leaned forward, peering close as he soldered something within the casing on the workbench. Exhaling a breath, he placed the iron back in its holder and straightened up, swivelling the chair to face her. He looked her up and down. Blinked. "Looks like someone's had a pretty rough journey."

"Fleur's dead."

Those words seemed to smack some of the nonchalance out of the wolfkin, and she saw his eyes widen in surprise. It took a couple of seconds for him to gather himself, and he nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, speaking carefully. "What happened?"

"Enforcers," she hissed. "They were after me, and they used her as bait. Then they killed her."

She saw Karno tense at the mention of the enforcers, one of his paws clenching reflexively into a tight fist. When he didn't respond immediately, she pressed on.

"The last thing she told me was to find you. She said you knew the wolfkin. She said you could help. So here I am."

"Why are enforcers looking for you?" Karno asked, still keeping his voice calm.

"It's a long story."

"A story maybe involving two dead designates, a murdered foxkin family, and a little place called Belforra?"

Jett's mouth dropped open as she groped for some response. After a moment, she shook her head, squeezing fists against her eyes as she tried to think.

"How do you know about any of that?"

He shrugged. "The snooper mod has a backchannel. I was curious."

"You've been spying on me?!"

"Hardly. I just wanted to see what you were looking for. And whether you meant to or not, you've been causing quite a stir. People who move in our little circles"—he made a lazy gesture to their surroundings—"we've got the rumours, a foxkin girl on the run, enforcers trawling the districts hunting her. Some people say you're a murderer. Some people say worse."

Still trying to regain her bearings, Jett instinctively started to reach for the longclaw. "And what do you think?"

"I think some people are idiots." He sighed. "Fleur was a friend. She could've sold me out a long time ago when she went straight, but she kept it to herself. She wouldn't have stuck her neck out for a murderer, and if she said I could help, maybe I could. Why don't you start by telling me what's so important about Belforra?"

"You tell me," Jett spat, feeling the tears well again as the raw memory of Fleur's death surged in her mind. "Your people are behind all this. I'm just trying to stay alive."

Karno shot to his feet with a sudden, venomous growl. "Let's get something nice and straight, foxkin. They're not my people. Not anymore."

Jett tensed, her hackles rising at his aggression, and they stayed there, staring at each other for a long, crackling moment of silence. Then his shoulders sagged as though the anger had been abruptly sucked out of him. He turned to his right and stepped over to a cabinet nestled between two of the display units.

"You look like you could use a drink," he muttered. "And so could I."

Not waiting for her reply, he opened the cabinet, withdrawing two ceramic beakers and an unmarked bottle in which a brassy-gold liquid sloshed. He held it up to her. "Nettle-brewed lasher—twelve years good." Smiling thinly, he poured them each a glass.

She took it and gave the liquor an experimental sniff. A forceful, floral aroma assaulted her, the stinging sensation forcing her to fight down a sneeze, but it spoke well of its potency. And she really could use a drink, she realised.

"Cheers." Jett raised the glass and took a sip. As soon as the lasher hit her tongue, she inhaled a sharp, hissing breath as it scorched its way through her mouth and down her throat, leaving a pleasant burning sensation in its wake. She lolled her head back and smacked her lips. "Fangs, that's some brew."

"If you get a taste for it, I can sort you a bottle," Karno chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. A small tremor in his shoulders was the only sign of the spirit torching through his body. He sat back down with a satisfied sigh and inclined his head to her.

"Now, what's so important about Belforra?"

"I don't know, exactly," Jett admitted. "All I know is that the wolfkin are out killing any soul that breathes a word about it. Whatever they are doing out there, they are keeping it a secret from everyone. That can't be good."

"And how'd you get snarled up in this?"

"The felkin, Zanzihar. He had a block drive with data he'd stolen from Belforra, and he brought it to me to crack it open. If I'd known what it was..." Jett shook her head; too late for regrets now. She took another drink. "I did what I was paid to do, and I've been running for my life ever since."

"And what is going on?"

"They're relocating a lot of kin out to Belforra, whether they like it or not. No one seems to know what happens after that." She shrugged. "There's some crazy wolfkin who seems to be calling the shots—I've had a few run-ins with her, but I haven't been able to figure out who she is."

Karno shifted uneasily in his seat. "Can you describe her?"

Jett did. Her host's unease did not abate.

"Peace and Fire, you really don't know how much trouble you're in, do you?" Karno laughed mirthlessly. "That is not just some wolfkin thug that's been chasing you around the city. That's Hera!"

"And who is that?"

"Oh, she's just the head of the enforcers and the most powerful person in Wildhearth after the High Alpha himself. So, you know, there's that."

"How do you know who she is?"

He tapped his muzzle with one claw. "Fleur was right when she said I knew the wolfkin. Better than most."

Jett looked at him askance. "You were an enforcer?"

"Not quite, but I worked with them. I was a high-ranked technician in Conclave security for a long time before I ended up here." He gave her a wink and raised his beaker in a mock toast. She waited for him to say more, but he just sat there, sipping nonchalantly at his drink as though such a statement warranted no further explanation.

"So, how'd you get stuck out here selling spare parts?" Jett asked, her voice still thick with incredulity.

"Because of exactly the kind of thing you're talking about." Karno cast a weary glance towards the door of his den. "You think what's happening out there right now is new? I worked as a tech in Conclave security for four years, and I was good, really good. But not long after I started there, other techs started getting replaced with other wolfkin. No explanation. They just got booted out the door without a word. Some of those people were my friends. When I asked them what happened, they told me they weren't allowed to tell me—enforcer dictats were issued under confidentiality grounds. I confronted our department head, and he just brushed me off—told me it was for the best. The whole thing was rank-rotten." He shrugged. "So I resigned—didn't want anything to do with it."

"They let you do that?" she asked.

"Officially, yes. Unofficially I got struck off Conclave databases, privileges revoked and issued with a dictat of my very own." He grinned crookedly. "Not that I keep to it. It's been a while. No one in that reptile pit remembers a few disgruntled tech staffers."

"Wow."

"And if everything you're saying is true—which I very much think it is—I probably can help you. More than that, I probably should."

She shot him a dubious look. "You sure about that? You've met me twice, and you're all set to go to war with Wildhearth?"

"Maybe I've just been waiting for a chance?"

"Or maybe you'd like nothing better than to turn me in and get yourself a nice juicy reward. Maybe get yourself reinstated? Maybe they booted you out here for something not quite as noble as you're selling me."

The words rang briefly in the hollow, dark confines of the tech den and Jett tensed, bracing herself for a fresh confrontation. Far from being angry, however, Karno slouched deeper into his seat, taking another drink of lasher. He ran his tongue around the front of his teeth and looked at her again.

"Look, Jett, I get you don't trust me," he said. "But if I wanted to turn you over to the enforcers, I could've done it a dozen times by now. I knew they were looking for a foxkin, and I've known it was you ever since you walked in here looking for those snooper mods."

Her jaw tightened, teeth clenching as she looked at him. It wasn't much of a stretch, she supposed, for him to have figured out that she was the one the enforcers were scouring the city for. After all, they'd tracked her to Fleur's shop without much difficulty. Karno clearly knew his gear and had been tracking her. If he wanted to get back into the good graces of the enforcers, he probably could have done it by now. The thought was not a very reassuring one. But as she looked at him, she came to the begrudging conclusion that she didn't have a lot of options. She needed help.

"You need to understand what you're getting into here, for real," Jett said carefully. "Whatever I'm chasing, it could turn this city upside down. If this goes sideways, we'll probably be dead in a week."

"I've been skulking here long enough," he replied. "You think I choose to live somewhere like Iolk? Think I enjoy wheezing chemicals every day and drugging myself to the tail just to breathe? It's because of them I'm out here."

"And you really want to put your life on the line because of that?"

"I know what they want and what they're capable of," Karno said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. "Hera and kin like her, they don't care about the Great Peace. They want the wolfkin to be running everything, to be the dominant species in Wildhearth without challenge. Whatever you're searching for is their plan to make that happen."