Xayah huddled at a corner table, pretending to scribble notes on some old maps. A vastayan dancer across the bar captured the room’s attention with a flamboyant performance, lulling the audience into an easy mood. Xayah made eye contact with the vastayan and nodded toward an Ionian soldier sitting in the back row. Time to move. The dancer flashed a knowing smile and leapt toward the soldier, letting loose a vicious kick. With bar-goers scrambling away from the brawl, Xayah surged across the room, hurling a storm of feathers. The soldier collapsed, and The Rebel’s job was done.
