He can scale the stone wall in half a minute. Wes is probably at the workshop already, waiting. The light has been returning to this section of wall at least every two. I flex my fingers and mentally adjust my estimate to three minutes-then bite my lip and think. They’ve been spinning this light pretty steadily for the last hour. He snorted and said there was no pattern, just bored men spinning a light around a pole. I spent days trying to figure out some kind of pattern to the surveillance, until I admitted that to Weston. The first time I saw them, I stared like a fool until I realized those lights meant danger. Several of the sectors have electricity in the wealthy areas, or so I’ve heard, but the spotlights here are brighter than any candle has ever been-even brighter than the bonfires the towns light to burn their dead. I clutch my father’s old apothecary pack tight under my arm, clinging to the darkness, waiting for an opportunity. Dawn is only an hour off, and sentry spotlights slide along the high stone walls at irregular intervals. At best, it takes me two minutes to scale the wall out of the Royal Sector, but the night is cold, and my fingers are starting to go numb. The hardest part of this job isn’t the stealing.
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