Exploitable Weaknesses

me to place an order for you?” Cooper shook his head, “I don’t think there’s time. Won’t he need measurements?” The First drew the dagger from his belt and he squatted down in front of Cooper, “Hold still.” He traced his blade around the edges of Cooper’s feet, carving the outlines on the deck of the ship. He stood and said, “That should be all he needs. I’ll have a pair waiting for you upon your return.” Cooper opened his mouth to speak but the First continued with a wink, “I’ll charge it against your account.”
Fifteen minutes later, his gear stowed on the floor of the boat, he pulled an oar through the water in cadence with Silas’ voice behind him. Silas was a Wharfsider who had assisted with identifying a few of Jarell’s sellswords. It was less than a week ago, but to Cooper it felt like months had passed since he’d last seen the man. With seven men rowing, the boat cut through the water at a steady pace but it still took a little over an hour to reach open water where they could take advantage of the prevailing current to help bear them south. Cooper wondered whether he might lose some skin from his palms before all was done but Silas’ pace never wavered.
They paddled among the rocky outcroppings and sea stacks of the Broken Coast and as they neared the Southern Cliffs, Silas pointed to a crevice in the rock that reached all the way to the crest. As Silas handed Cooper a pair of leather straps with meat hooks attached to them, he explained, “Strap these to your wrists. There’s an anchor chain that spans the entire height of the crevice. As you climb, slip a hook somewhere above you, into a link in the chain. It’ll help you climb, and let you rest as often as you need without needing to worry about your grip.” Cooper accepted them gratefully as Silas continued, “When you reach the top you’ll find a large flat rock on a patch of grass. Just slip those hooks underneath. Whoever comes through next will collect them.” Cooper gave Silas a conspiratorial look, “Seems like you’ve done this kind of thing before…?” The large Wharfsider grinned, “Now I don’t ask you to tell your secrets, do I?” Once they’d pulled alongside the cliffs, Cooper collected his gear and clasped hands with Silas before he strapped the hooks to his wrists. He balanced on the edge of the boat, hooked into the chain, placed a foot against the rocks, and pulled. The rocks were wet and waves commonly crashed against them, sending salt water spraying in all directions. As his feet left the gunwale he heard Silas shout over the noise of the water, “Kinsman!” He turned his head to see why Silas had called out. Silas gave him a short wave with his paddle and yelled, “Luck!” Then he and his fellows set their oars against the rocks and pushed themselves away. Cooper gave him a nod in reply and yelled back, “Many thanks! And luck to you!” He then turned his full attention to his next task; ascending the Southern Cliffs. He’d only climbed a few meters and had already realized that the climb would be nearly impossible without the hooks. The rocks often broke away under his feet, causing him to take more care in his foot placement. It made an already difficult climb even more challenging, but with the hooks he was able to reach the top while the sun was still an hour or so above the horizon.
He crawled across the ground, away from the edge and unstrapped his gear, letting it fall in a heap. He rolled onto his back as he removed the straps from his wrist and massaged them where they’d chafed. As he rested, he worked his arms and shoulders, letting the blood flow in. He rolled back over and came up on a knee and opened his pack. He pulled out a set of clothes and changed into them, then carefully folded the Guild leathers he’d been wearing and placed them in the bag. Now he wore only cloth pants, jerkin, and a thin jacket. His only visible weapons were his bow and arrows, and the camp knife on his belt. He tucked the climbing hooks under the stone as Silas instructed, checked his bowstring, slung his bag back over his shoulders and faced northwest. For the next hour or two, he’d need to skirt along the farmer’s fields to avoid any patrols on the roads. Once the sun had completely disappeared, he should be free to walk along the roads, as long as the patrols didn’t stretch out this far. While he could snack on some of the dried meat and cheese he’d taken from the Guild kitchen; tomorrow, he’d take some time to hunt. He should reach the Forest within the next three or four days, depending on how much effort was required to avoid patrols.
He was tired, but that was mostly from the climb. Surely he’d need to sleep, but first he’d need to put more distance between himself and Paleros. Progress would be slower in the dark, and slower still since the ground was uneven, but at least he’d be unobserved unless some farmer was out checking his fence rows.
As the evening progressed, the sky had darkened. He had been walking northwest, mostly west, in order to get clear of the city. He’d been using the fading light on the western horizon as a means to gauge his direction. Now that the sun had gone down completely, he began walking north at every opportunity, looking to find the main road. The obscured glow of the moon beyond the clouds provided almost no illumination, but it did provide some basis for navigation.
*****
Once they’d returned from the Ruins, Felis took his leave and returned to the University with the mages. Iona went