Bill lowered his voice as he and Mim made their way between buildings and down narrow, dirty streets.

“I didn’t think a necromancer could live in the city. I thought there were Inquisitors who could track down witches and things like that,” he said. Mim stopped walking.

“They guess,” she replied. Slowly she peered around the corner of a nearby building. Bill kneeled, waiting.

“Does he have zombies?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“Will we have to fight them?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

Mim reached a hand to the back of her waist and in one fluid motion turned and brought a knife forward, stopping its edge inches from Bill’s face. She drew it back and turned it, revealing the face of the blade.

“Oh, you have one too,” Bill said, standing to his feet. “So all zombies can’t see us?”

“Right,” Mim said, re-sheathing the weapon. She put her forefinger to her face to silence Bill, then returned to her observations. She motioned for him to follow before beginning a low, noiseless sprint toward a dilapidated building. Bill came jogging after her, his armor clanking and creaking at each step. Mim froze in her tracks, slowly stood up and turned to face him, shook her head, then continued her original route at a walk.

“What?” Bill said.