Without meaning to, her feet, and her canal staff, brought her across the outer sections of the city and toward the prison rising up in the distance. It was hard to miss. It was designed to draw the eye, a remote and isolated section of the city, situated alone on its own island, ringed by the canals, most of them much wider than found anywhere else in the city other than around the palace itself.
It would be difficult to reach, if not impossible. She thought she might be able to jump to that section, but if she tried, she risked landing in the water, and not being able to get herself free. A swim across the canal of that size would be dangerous, especially if the eels were real, and she was convinced that they were.
And then, if she did reach the other side, it would be nearly impossible to penetrate the prison. Kyza knew that she wouldn’t be quick enough, or strong enough, to scale the massive wall rising around it, topped by sharp wire. Even the stone itself had razor sharp metal worked into it, as if the highborns feared those inside might escape the prison even though they were probably not only inside cells, but bound, as well. Even then, she would need to escape detection by any one of the dozen or so guards on the grounds.
Her imagination created the scene on the other side of the wall. There would likely be more of the same sharp metal worked into the stone, a way to keep the lowborns from even walking along them. Anything to keep them confined. Did they even allow light? She could imagine the highborn jailors keeping the cells dark, nothing but constant night as some sort of torture to those they confined. Tray wouldn’t do well in the dark, not if forced to stay there long term.
She had no idea if they’d already questioned him. Had he given them what they needed? Had they punished him if not? Maybe she was already too late.
If something had happened to the princess as Bastan claimed—and as Sam herself had begun to hear rumored—why would Tray’s jailers even care what happened to him? How long would he remain captured, unable to do anything, and unable to free himself? How long would Tray hold out hope that she might find a way to him? How long would it be before he gave up and thought that she wasn’t coming for him? That was her job as the older sister.
Though she was the one to execute the jobs, Tray had always been the one who had watched over her, making sure nothing happened to her on all of the missions she agreed to take. What did it matter that she took the missions for both of their sakes, wanting nothing more than to find a way to buy them out of Caster.
It wasn’t as if Sam thought they could ever be highborns. Finding enough money to buy their way into those inner sections of the city was impossible, even for a skilled thief like herself. No, what she wanted was simply a moderate level of safety, like the kind she could find somewhere like Alec’s section of the city.
She chided herself for thinking that way.
Even with money from Marin, that was beyond her.
She needed to be content with what she could do, and that was finding some way to help her brother. She would rescue him.
Somehow.
Sam made a slow circuit around the sections outside the prison. The far wall ended in a massive drop-off, practically a cliff, overlooking the bay. Anyone thinking to escape that way wouldn’t survive.
She paused, watching the bay. Faint starlight twinkled off the water, and she could see the ends of a few of the canals as they fed into the bay. Two barges started into the canals, both likely coming from the massive ship at anchor in the middle of the bay. Dozens of other ships just like it were also anchored just off shore.
Was this to be her fate if she couldn’t get to him and if this business with the princess never ended? Always wondering what happened to Tray? Never to know what the highborns did to him? Sam wasn’t sure she would be able to live not knowing, and she didn’t want to keep getting deeper and deeper in debt with Bastan, and she wasn’t completely convinced he was doing everything he could to help, anyway.
Sam stared at the walls, her eyes drawn to the razor-sharp metal along the top, thinking of Tray inside the prison, with nothing but these walls, perhaps stuck in the dark, not able to find his way free. She knew what she had to do. She just didn’t like it.
Somehow, she would have to use the information that Bastan had given her.
The thought stayed with her as she crept away from the prison section of the city and deeper into the city itself. Find Tray, then get him free. She didn’t know how.
She was drawn, the sight of the palace gleaming in the moonlight seeming to pull her in. This section of the city was much nicer than the others, and mostly that was because the palace sat in the heart of it. She rarely risked coming too close, partly afraid that she would get caught, and partly because she didn’t have the right clothing to blend in, not like she did in Caster. There, at least, her cloak blended in somewhat, even if the rest of the clothing she preferred to wear did not.
The streets had a somber air to them that she could practically feel. Was that because of what was happening with the princess? Maybe it was more than simply a rumor. If that were the case, and whatever had happened to her influenced the section of the city this far out, then maybe Bastan’s information was reliable.
If a tunnel did run between the palace and the prison, the first challenge was getting into the palace. How in the world would she reach it undetected, with palace guards all around? And then, how would she locate this mystery tunnel?
It was more than the security, which she expected to be significant inside the palace. It was her paralyzing fear of being found inside. She was lowborn. She had no business being where there were royals. How could she risk this?
But, for Tray, how could she not?
Something that she’d overheard, a rumor about the palace, came to mind. There had always been rumors of a connection between the palace and the university. Maybe if she could access the tunnels from there, she could find her way under the palace to reach the prison. Having to roam through the university to locate them, she didn’t think she’d feel quite as out of place as she would in the palace, though perhaps she should. Even Alec hadn’t felt as though he belonged in the university, and he was a skilled healer, more skilled than any she’d ever met. If he wasn’t willing to go to the university, should she risk it?
For Tray, she would.
14
A Job for Tray
Sam tightened her cloak and checked the crossbow, feeling a little nervous about the fact that she carried real bolts with her this time rather than the kind meant for scaling walls. The return to Caster for her supplies had done nothing other than steel her resolve. What did it matter if this went wrong, and she was caught? There would be no hiding the fact that she had weapons on her. She intended to break into the prison and get Tray out. Either it worked and she escaped, or she was caught and punished.
The dark only concealed so much, and she hoped the cloak covered the rest. Would it conceal her as she attempted the most foolish break-in she’d ever attempted?
Sam pushed those thoughts out of her mind. They did her no good, and only made her feel less confident in what needed to happen.
Circling back to Marin’s home before risking this had revealed what Sam had feared. The other woman was gone. There hadn’t been any blood, so Sam hoped she had managed to escape, but even if she had, where would she have gone?
Her absence left no one but Sam to help Tray. The longer he remained trapped, the more she worried about him. And if the royals were distracted by whatever had happened to the princess, Sam might have an opportunity to sneak in and rescue him, but that opportunity wouldn’t last for long.
She had to hurry.
The streets were empty at this time of night. Quiet. A stillness hung over everything, and Sam imagined the city itself held its breath, waiting to see what she would do as she approached the university.
This jump was the easiest, but put her in the most danger. As soon as she made this crossing, she entered a part of the city where she could be easily noticed. Not that the r
isk lessened anywhere else, but across this canal, her very presence would be questioned. The outer sections of the city were easy enough to move through—and not well guarded. The farther toward the center of the city she went, the more likely it was that she’d encounter guards—and attract attention.
When she reached the canal, she pulled her staff free from her cloak and threaded the two ends together. Taking a running leap, she stabbed the staff deep into the canal and flipped, soaring across the water. Something splashed as she did. Sam refused to look down, refused to even consider what might be lurking beneath the surface.
Then she landed on the other side.
She pulled her staff free and shook water from it, ducking against the nearest building. After taking a moment to take in her unfamiliar surroundings, she skulked along the street, trying to remain concealed as much as possible. She kept her eyes locked on her distant target. Reach the university. Break in. Use the tunnels to hopefully bypass the palace and reach the prison. If the rumored access through the university was there, that would be the easy part.
The buildings in this part of the city were neater, cleaner. Most rose three or more stories above her. Many were wood, though still solid, nothing like the old stone buildings in the outer sections of the city. Even the paint on the storefronts looked fresh, bright, and vibrant even in the darkness. Sam noted seamstresses, fletchers, bakers, ink makers, and even an apothecary that made her think of Alec.
The next canal appeared.
She jumped, racing through the streets, going across canal after canal until she neared the center sections of the city. Sam tried to ignore the fatigue already threatening her. She had to for Tray.
This canal would be wider. The moonless night made it difficult to fully appreciate the width of the canal, but she’d seen the maps Bastan had of the canal system. If they were to scale—and knowing Bastan, they would be—they would be an accurate representation of what she faced.
The timing of the jump would matter this time, but she wouldn’t be able to get set the same way that she normally did. It was possible the staff would slip, or she’d lose her grip, or she mistimed the jump, or…
She could spend an hour thinking through what could go wrong. She had to trust it wouldn’t, or she’d never make it across. These were the jumps when she missed Tray the most. With his size—and his strength—she had never feared the width of canals. Though she was the older sister, if something happened, she appreciated that he was always there watching over her.
Sam closed her eyes, took a breath, and jumped.
While in the air, she flipped the staff down, catching the bottom of the canal. In that moment, she prayed, hoping the staff held.
Through the length of the wood, she felt the way it tried to slide, but then caught.
Sam suppressed a cry of victory as she kicked, trying to make it the rest of the way across. She angled down, and her feet touched the other side, but only barely. Leaning forward, she tumbled onto the hard rock on the other side, pulling the staff free as she did.
Her heart raced, and she took a moment to settle it.
When she dared stand, she looked back. A faint glow to the night gave her light enough to see. The canal here was much wider than she had expected, much wider than Bastan’s drawings had reflected. She was lucky to have cleared it.
That wasn’t what bothered her.
If the map was wrong about this canal, what about the next? Would she even be able to cross?
She was still near enough that she could turn back. Going back meant hoping Bastan would be able to reach the inside of the prison, even though he had already told her that he was unwilling to do so. Bastan had connections, but he wouldn’t use them. Had it been Marin, Sam believed she’d do more for Tray, but Bastan… She knew what motivated him: money. And she didn’t have enough to influence him.
The answer was simple. If she turned back now, Tray would remain in prison. And maybe die. All because of her.
There was no one else. She was on her own.
Sam pulled her gaze away from the water and started forward.
She remained along the edge of the buildings, holding close to the walls, letting the shadows catch on her cloak, trusting that it would keep her hidden.
A dark figure moved in the distance.
Sam froze, ducking against the wall and wrapping her cloak around her.
She waited, and the shape moved past.
Sighing softly, she counted to ten before starting off again. This time, she moved more cautiously. Each step was a test of how silently she could walk. She listened to the way the wind blew, paying attention to the caress of it across her exposed face, the way it tugged at her cloak, and the scents it carried with it. The wind would carry her scent along with others, but there was no getting around that.
The final canal was near. She could smell it, but more than that, she could hear the way the water lapped softly at the edges of the canal. Sam approached cautiously, remaining close to a low building for long moments before determining it was safe to go any further, and studied the canal.
Her heart sank as she did.
The last canal had been wide. This one was wider. Much wider.
Sam stood at the canal’s edge, letting the sound of the water flowing through it wash over her. Normally, she found peace in the sound, a gentleness that she wouldn’t get anywhere else, a sense of quiet that let her simply be. But not today. Today, her heart raced, leaving her with a lingering sense of anxiety, and perspiration beaded on her brow. She was unaccustomed to feeling nervous moving around the city. This was a new sensation for her, and one she didn’t care for.
Would the staff allow her to even reach the other side?
Placing her feet as close to the edge as she dared, she stretched the staff across the canal, straining to see how far it would reach. If she more than passed the midpoint of the canal, she thought she might have a chance of crossing it.
The staff reached maybe to the middle of the canal.
That didn’t take into consideration the depth of the water, which would shorten her reach by another six or seven feet. There would be no flying over the canal this time.
Swimming was an option, but recalling the sound of whatever splashed beneath her when she crossed the last canal left her not wanting to risk it. The eels might not be found here, but then again, they might. She didn’t want to risk getting nibbled at by a hungry eel. Or worse.
Could she find one of the barges? If she could find one tied up, she could borrow it… only that risked raising the alarm before she was ready. Stealth and silence were required. Once she reached the university, she was confident she could slip undetected through the building. Reach the tunnels. That was her mission. Once there… then she’d have to figure out how to get to the prison.
One step at a time. She tried not to get too far ahead of herself.
The other option would be to risk a jump, but with the width of the canal, she wasn’t sure she liked that idea. If she got a running start, she could jump, get enough distance under her, and thrust the staff into the bottom of the canal while in the air. The timing would be even more difficult than what she was accustomed to, but it might give her a chance to reach farther than she could otherwise.
Sam looked along the street. She liked this idea less than she liked the idea of finding a barge to steal. At least with that, there wasn’t the risk of splashing down in the water. This close to the palace, the damn eels were even more prevalent than they were farther out, as if they were drawn in from the sea to spread throughout the city.
Tray. This was for Tray.
Wouldn’t he do the same for her?
Could she be fast enough here? Could she be strong enough with her jump to reach the other side?
Sam swore under her breath, and, after taking a deep breath and settling her nerves, she ran.
At the edge of the water, she jumped.
Sam didn’t have the strength or speed that her brother possesse
d, but she’d always been a pretty good jumper, and years of sneaking and climbing had made her strong enough. The jump carried her over the water, and as she reached the peak of her arc, she jabbed the spear with as much force as she could generate.
It struck the bottom of the canal, but sank in much further than she had expected.
The surface of the water was barely four feet below her.
Her hands slipped. Sam gripped it tightly, desperately, and kicked her legs. The movement sent her gliding slowly, as if the water intended to hold her upright, before allowing her to sink toward the opposite shore.
It was still too far away.
Sam braced herself for the frigid water, but even that didn’t prepare her for the cold she experienced.
When she’d ended up in the canal the last time, the water had been cold. Flowing from the sea never left the water warm enough for comfort, but this was even worse. It felt like icy fingers gripped her chest, and her breath burst from her lungs.
Sam didn’t risk coming to the surface for a breath. When she’d splashed down, she immediately kicked, diving below the surface, all too aware of the noise that she made by splashing into the water. She was as afraid of what might be in the water with her as she was of who might find her if and when she reached the other side.
Something pinched at her cloak.
Sam jerked, trying to spin. Images of eels biting at her made her panic.
There came another bite. This time, she felt the teeth.
She’d never seen one of the canal eels, and didn’t want to see one now. They were rumored to get big enough that they could tear flesh from her easily. At least she was wrapped in the cloak, but it had flapped open somewhat during the jump, and it didn’t protect her completely. If one of the eels swam up the arm or under the bottom of the cloak…
Sam kicked again, straining to reach the other side.
Her heart raced. She gripped the staff tightly, but met resistance. Something held on to the staff.
She yanked on it. This had been her one constant companion in all the time she’d been sneaking through the city. The staff been left behind by her mother, something of hers that she could call her own. Had she sunk it too deeply into the muck at the bottom of the canal?
The Book of Maladies Boxset Page 13
