Kara moved through the swamp market with her eyes on the crowd, tracking faces the way she'd been taught. A woman brushed past, close enough that Kara caught the smell of mud and smoke. Then she saw it — the necklace hanging at the woman's throat, bone and blossom strung on dark cord. Kara's breath stopped. She knew that necklace. Her mentor had worn it every day for twelve years, the yellow flowers replaced each spring, the bleached vertebrae clicking together when she leaned forward to explain a technique. The woman wearing it now didn't glance back. She moved through the crowd like someone who belonged here, her shoulders relaxed, her steps sure. Kara followed, keeping three bodies between them, her pulse loud in her ears. The woman didn't know what she was wearing. That much was clear. But someone had given it to her, or sold it to her, and that someone had stood close enough to her mentor's body to slip the cord over her head. The woman stopped at a stall covered in moss and hanging vines, the kind of place that sold things without asking where they came from. Kara watched from behind a cart stacked with clay pots. The stall keeper leaned out, a man with scarred hands and eyes that didn't smile. The woman said something Kara couldn't hear. She touched the necklace, casual, like it meant nothing. The stall keeper shook his head. The woman shrugged and walked away. Kara stayed where she was, watching the stall keeper duck back inside. She had her first thread now. Someone in this swamp knew where the necklace came from, and this man might know who. Kara waited until the woman disappeared into the crowd. Then she walked to the stall and knocked twice on the wooden frame. The stall keeper appeared in the doorway, his expression flat. She didn't ask about the necklace directly. Instead, she asked about a bell tree two streets over, the kind traders used to signal deals. His eyes shifted left. He told her he didn't know anything about signal trees. But his hand went to his pocket, and Kara saw the shape of coins there. He was nervous. That meant he remembered the necklace, and more importantly, he remembered who brought it to him. She nodded and stepped back, filing his face away. The assassin's trail had been cold for weeks, but now she had heat.