Galt hit the boat with an unsteady roll, jarred from the wriggling craft. He reformed into a crouch with the grace of an experienced thief, and he lifted up his left pants-leg to retrieve his collapsable short bow. Folded in half, the brace in the middle made it slightly weaker than your average composite bow, and it could barely be said to harm anyone wearing something thicker than a few layers of clothing. However the fold-bow was a useful weapon any good archer in the guild did well to buy. An arrow hitting any vitals was still potentially deadly. He reached into a small slide sequestered within the fold of his vest and retrieved an arrow. 

With a deft movement, he loosed. His arrow caught one of the pursuers in the neck, and Galt fancied he could hear the gurgle from his bloodied throat from that distance. He wasn't used to killing, but somehow he felt less poor about it when he did it to someone who was looking to do the same to him. The man tumbled into the river as his compatriots decided to scramble for cover rather than chase them along the side of the canal, at least for the moment. 

"Galt, row!" Kashvi snapped. 

"Uh, right." Galt dropped the fold-bow and grabbed a paddle. He doubted the pilot cared, having leaped into the canal just after the dead man flopped into the drink. 

The small craft slipped into another small canal, sliding under a bridge where the three found a couple of beggars to switch places with them with some hard looks and flashing a few coppers. It was barely half a minute before a different trio rowed out into the open again while Galt, Kashvi, and Joe huddled under the bridge next to a small iron grate that connected to the sewer. Galt held a hand out to keep his two companions there as he peered out, careful not to expose any of himself in the sunlight. At first glance all he saw were a gaggle of dandies and fops cajoling a handsome woman and a couple walking past for a day about town. He caught a glance at a few street toughs engaged in cards by another gondola, unaffiliated no doubt. But his keen gaze caught eyes looking his way just past them, a flash of red below them before they disappeared. 

"We need to move," He said urgently. "We got Dogs of Disfavor on our tail now, too." 

"Halleth," Kashvi sighed. 

Galt groaned, dropping down next to the iron grate, guessing it couldn't be helped. He had spent months and months climbing out of debt and bartering for the best toys in the business, but here he was using it all up in one afternoon. He fished out a small vial from his pocket and plucked the top off, carefully bobbing his finger atop the bottle so two, clear liquid drops fell on the hinges of the iron. "So what trouble did you get me into?" Galt asked. Immediately the material began to sizzle and corrode, dissolving before his eyes. He firmly put the top back on and slid it into his pocket again. 

"What did I do!?" Kashvi asked incredulously, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Someone is hitting our whole guild, you pennyweighter!" 

Galt was up in a flash, a finger almost pressed into her nose. "That was one time!" He said, then realized they were still standing there. "Come on, help me pull this grate off. If we take the sewers we can at least get away from here before we're swarmed."