Chapter 667: The Faster Sister

Rumi leaned over the balcony rail while the stands roared for the match, and her ears caught one wrong sound. Taren’s dispatch clerk hugged a sealed route folio beneath the stairs while a porter brushed his elbow far too gently.

’Nobody bumps a man that politely unless the other hand is already busy.’

The folio slid into a transit pocket stitched inside the porter’s coat, and its carrier never even blinked.

She grabbed her sister’s sleeve and jabbed a finger down past the rail, "Porter with the striped cap, he just lifted Taren’s folio."

"Which porter?" Nari squinted down at the crowd, tufted ears swiveling toward the stairs.

"The one walking like he’s late for nothing."

"Then he wants the service lanes and the public gate after them," Nari hissed, already loosening both daggers, "and I’ll be standing in that gate first."

"You clear the exit, I’ll do the chasing."

"Don’t get cute with the carts."

"I’m always cute," Rumi purred, swinging one leg over the rail.

Juna didn’t look away from the field below, "Bring him back breathing, and bring the folio back dry."

Rumi dropped from the balcony into the stable yard and slapped the bread cart with one palm as she landed. Four Wings stayed folded tight while she ran, keeping her silhouette small among the porters hauling barrels toward the feast.

The striped cap bobbed ahead of her, slipping between delivery carts lined along the narrow service lane.

She touched the water cart’s rail as she passed it, then the barrel cart’s wheel, then a stack of crates. Each touch left a road end behind her, the kind of anchor Many Roads needed before it would open anything.

’Three roads ready, but only one can carry weight at a time, so spend them carefully.’

The porter glanced back once over his shoulder and saw her coming fast.

"Oh, come on," he wheezed, ducking past a mule, "you’re supposed to be watching the champion!"

"I watched him win, it’s your turn now, buddy!"

He skidded beside two parked carts where a pale seam flickered between their tailboards, a short route placed hours earlier. Its mouth glowed bright and obvious, the sort of door any chaser would throw herself through without a second thought.

A second seam glimmered beside the water cart behind her, and its twin shimmered back by the stable trough.

’Two doors, bait and real, and you want me diving through the shiny one.’

Rumi ignored the bright mouth, and her tail lashed once as she caught the handle of an empty handcart.

"Sorry, whoever owns you," she muttered, shoving it straight at the first seam.

Her first road opened beneath the rolling cart and spat it out right beside the porter’s chosen pair of tailboards. The empty cart crashed sideways across his glowing seam and wedged there, blocking that door with splintered slats and spokes.

He swore and spun toward the second seam, the one behind the water cart.

The handcart’s road folded shut behind it, and then, one short heartbeat later, Rumi stepped through her second prepared road. It carried her alone from the crate stack to the stable yard, back where she first landed off the balcony.

She arrived beside the trough two heartbeats before the porter tumbled out of his own seam.

He came up running and found her standing in front of him, both daggers still sheathed.

"How—"

"You built two doors, and I just used the back one first," she drawled, catching his wrist.

He wrenched toward his glowing seam, trying to dive straight back through the same anchor that just spat him out. Rumi drove her shoulder into his ribs and hauled him three steps away from the glow, toward the bread cart.

His back hit the cart’s side hard enough to rattle every loaf still stacked on it.

She twisted the caught wrist behind him and pressed her forearm across his shoulders, pinning him flat against the slats. His free hand clawed at the cart, then crept back toward his coat, and she leaned harder until it stopped.

"Drop it."

"I don’t know what you mean—"

"The folio, the one in your fancy pocket, drop it or I start testing how far this wrist bends."

His fingers shook open, and the sealed folio slid out of the pocket onto the cobbles.

Across the yard, Nari stood square in the public gate with both daggers out, and the crowd parted around her. Two guild guards jogged toward the noise behind her, and she waved them toward the cart without leaving her post.

"Nice gate," Rumi called, keeping the pin locked.

"Nice cart," Nari shot back, flicking her ears, "I could have caught him at the gate without wrecking a cart."

"You could have stood there looking pretty, which you did, beautifully."

Taren’s clerk staggered up red-faced, clutching his empty arms like the folio might still be inside them.

"My lady, the seal—"

Rumi nudged the folio with her toe and frowned at the cracked wax across its edge.

"Already broken, so he peeked, open it and show me what was worth the trouble."

Taren’s clerk unfolded it across the cart’s tailboard with trembling hands, and the stained survey spread open beneath his fingers. A triangular brand marked the border forest beside the eastern junction, the same map Garrow wanted most from the drivers.

Rumi’s ears went flat while the porter breathed hard against the slats beneath her arm.

’Collectors want a champion’s broken arrow, not a teamster’s dirty map with a stain on the corner.’

Guards took the porter’s other arm, but Rumi kept her grip on the wrist until they bound it properly.

Heavy footsteps thudded across the yard, and Hajin barreled through the gate past Nari with his Rings settled around him.

"You skipped my victory lap for a pickpocket?" he hollered, spreading both arms in mock outrage.

"Three rankers, damn it, and nobody up there even watched me bow!"

"I watched," Nari deadpanned, "between the gate and the bread."

[ IronVanguard: He wins three on one and the sisters still steal the encore. ]

[ HearthKeeper: Wait, Rumi caught a thief while we were all staring at the field? ]

[ ashley(mod): Camera only shows the yard now, let her tell it before anyone guesses. ]

Rumi gave the report aloud for his camera, covering the pocket, both seams, and the poor handcart she sacrificed gladly. Hajin let out a low whistle and studied the glowing seam by the trough, then the porter now under guard.

"You didn’t chase him," he said slowly, rubbing his jaw, "you went where he was going."

"Faster sister," Rumi preened, puffing out her chest while her tail swished behind her, "and I want the first interview."

"Absolutely not, my gate was the better escape route, he only ran into you since I closed the good one."

"He never even looked at your gate!"

"Exactly, he was too scared to look at it," Nari sniffed, tail swishing smugly.

Hajin laughed, and both sisters slid in to claim an arm each, purring in near unison against his sleeves.

"Fine, fine, Rumi asks first and Nari gets the follow-up, and nobody tells Loccy about the squashed loaves."

Rumi turned back to the porter and tapped the triangular brand beside his face.

"Who’s buying this map, and don’t tell me some collector wants a souvenir from today."

He licked his lips and stared at the survey’s corner rather than at any of them.

"My buyer doesn’t care about your match," he muttered, voice cracking, "he only pays for the old road mark, the one nobody rides anymore."