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chest.
    “Run,” the assassin commanded, “straight to the tailor’s store.”
    Morlet, once again hidden under his cape, pointed a finger at me as he’d done to the child. I stayed rooted in place. He began walking my direction, tossing people out of his way as he shouted at his men to capture me.
    The assassin pulled me forward, and we sprinted for the store located twenty feet away. Screams echoed through the Town Square, and chaos erupted. People ran every which way. The soldats advanced on us. We bumped into several citizens as we headed for the door with a Closed sign hanging on it. Without stopping, I grabbed the handle and threw the door open, relieved it wasn’t locked.
    He shoved me inside and slammed the door shut behind us, holding it closed with his body. “Move that piece of furniture over here,” he yelled, pointing to a table in the room. “Hurry, before they break the door in.”
    Squinting in the dim light, I found a large table covered with fabric swatches. I shoved it toward the entrance and turned the table on its side. The assassin thrust it against the door, holding it in place.
    “Hurry and get two wooden dowels.”
    Soldats pounded on the other side of the door. The assassin’s face reddened from straining to hold it closed. I grabbed the dowels. Handing one to him, I put the other one on the ground and then angled it toward the table, wedging it in place. Once it was sturdy, I did the same with the other dowel.
    “Now lift up the rug in the corner,” he demanded, still leaning his body against the table.
    I followed the man’s line of sight and ran to the corner, then pulled up the edge of the area rug, revealing a small, rectangular door.
    “Open it and get inside.”
    As I lifted the wooden door, the assassin slowly released the table, ensuring the dowels held it in place. He ran to the back of the store and broke a window. Was he leaving me?
    Shouts came from the front of the shop. The table and dowels shook as soldats banged against the door. I lowered my feet into the black hole and dropped onto the ground. The assassin came into view above me. He lowered himself, reached out and flipped the rug on top of the door, and then finished closing it all the way. I heard metal clang and then the sound of a bolt sliding into place.
    Darkness swallowed us. A hand clamped over my mouth, and the assassin held me against his body. I yelped, but the sound was muffled by his hand. “Don’t speak,” he whispered. “They’ll be inside any minute. They have to believe we left out the back window.”
    Realizing he wasn’t going to hurt me, I nodded, and he released me.
    There was a rustling sound, and the assassin lit a small fire. He raised the flint to the torch hanging on the wall. Once it took, he grabbed the torch and motioned for me to follow him. We headed down a long, dark tunnel, dirt crunching under our boots. After about thirty feet, he turned to face me. “We need to put as much distance between them and us as possible.”
    He started running, and I took off after him. Our elongated shadows bounced on the walls as we sprinted. The heavy, fur-trimmed jacket weighed me down. After ten minutes, my legs ached and my lungs burned. Unable to run another step, I stopped and bent over, heaving deep breaths.
    The man jogged back to me. “The exit is near.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me down the tunnel.
    Thinking only of getting to my father, I forced my legs to move. Not only did Papa desperately need his medicine, but if someone from the Town Square managed to identify me, soldats could go to my home. My father would be taken to prison and tortured. I needed to get to him before they did.
    We finally arrived at a dead end. “There’s a ladder,” the man whispered. “I’ll go first to make sure the exit is clear. If it is, I’ll wave you up.”
    He handed me the torch and swiftly scaled the ladder, not making a sound. Once he was at the top, a crack of light pierced the