Manders tilted his head back to the sky, his profile barely visible in the light of the stars above them. The sliver of the moon hung in the sky to the east, providing little light.
“At least if we can't see well,” Daymon muttered behind Alayne, “neither can anyone else.”
“Should I light a finger so we can—”
“No!” five voices hissed at once.
Alayne jumped. “I was just kidding,” she defended herself. She self-consciously reached for the curls on her neck. The shortness of her hair still felt strange. “Sheesh.”
Manders ignored her. “Okay, this is the most dangerous part. There's a tunnel under the city walls, and the access point is at the base of the wall. But we have no tree cover from the ridge of this hill all the way down that bank there to the bottom, and then a hundred yards or more to the entrance of the tunnel. We'll need to keep low to the ground and not move too fast.”
“Couldn't we just make ourselves invisible?” Alayne asked.
The others stared at her. Daymon's mouth twitched in a half-smile.
“I mean, i—it would help, right?”
Manders's eyebrows winged upward in surprise. “Are you able to do that, Alayne?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Daymon and I both can. It's a little tricky at first, because it's hard to concentrate on refracting the light from every area of your body all at the same time, but once you get it, if you can notch the bend, then it stays.”
“You have to be an Air-Master to do it, though, right?” Bard asked. “'S'not going to work for us, Sugar Bean.” His amused glance found her in the moonlight.
“We can do it on other things besides just ourselves,” Alayne answered. “I don't see why we couldn't do it on other people, too. It's how Daymon and I sneaked back in to Clayborne to—rescue Jayme.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. Daymon's jaw went rigid, and he looked down the hill toward the city. Alayne allowed a small sigh to escape her lips. “Anyway, if Daymon and I refract the light surrounding each person in the group and notch the bends, then we'll all be invisible, and we can go down the hill and across the open space without too much worry, right, Manderly?”
“Won't we be discovered, though, on account of their feeling our bend?” Kary asked Manders. “Bending an element is one thing; notching the element is a whole lot stronger.”
“Could we—lock the bend?” Daymon asked.
Alayne had nearly forgotten that a lock was possible. Marysa's words to the undercover Last Order class the year before came back to her: A lock is when I notch the element, and then detach it from the element grid, so that it stays that way until I unnotch it. The element is locked until I unlock it. Obviously, Daymon had paid closer attention to her words than Alayne had. She nodded slowly as the idea took hold, but Manders shook his head, and the feeling drained immediately.
“No, that wouldn't work. A lock is only meant to affect a small portion of the elemental harp, so even if you were skilled enough to lock the bend in place, you could only refract the light rays on a negligible amount of surface area. You may manage to cover yourself and lock it, or even one other person. But certainly not all of us.” Manders stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “That was a good thought, though; since you have to release the element strand from the harp to lock a bend, others around you can't feel it.”
“We could try going down in groups of two, sir,” Alayne suggested.
Manders stared out over the Capital, but at last, shook his head. “No, I'd rather keep us all together. Even if Elementals can feel a notched bend, no one would likely notice it in the Capital, not here anyway where we're so close to parts of the nightlife district and where bends are happening all over. The Capital has also made the changeover to an almost exclusively-Elemental population, thanks to the Elemental Alliance. They'll be able to feel the bend, but won't be able to pinpoint it.” His gray eyes sparked. “Excellent. I didn't know either of you were capable of this. It's something I've never been able to do, not being an Air-Master, and only the most advanced Air-Masters have a grasp on it. Go ahead, Alayne, you and Daymon give it your best.”
Bard was the first one Daymon concentrated on. After a moment, his grinning face faded from sight, blipped twice into visibility, and then disappeared again for good. “One thing about it,” Bard's disembodied voice chuckled. “We coulda gone through the main gate this way.”
Manders shook his head. “Too crowded. Didn't you see the gate? You couldn't move there without touching someone, and we would have risked bumping into too many people. Somebody may have noticed that there wasn't a body to go with the bump. That would have been much worse than trying to walk in and hoping we weren't recognized.”
Alayne carefully refracted the light around Manders, plunging portions of his body into invisibility. She envied Daymon; he seemed to have an easier time with it. Manders's right arm kept reappearing no matter how many times she went back over the element. Finally, she gained a second where all of him was invisible at the same time and yanked the bend into a notch.
“Kary, you and Bard keep tight hold of the bounty hunter,” Manders's voice warned. “I don't want him using this opportunity to vanish.” He laughed softly at his own pun.
“We've got him,” Kary's voice answered.
Alayne and Daymon were the only two not invisible yet. Daymon quickly bent the elements, and he disappeared. Alayne took a deep breath and did the same. It was easier to refract the light from her own body than it was to do it for someone else. It took her less than three seconds.
As soon as her body disappeared, though, she felt lost, not knowing where any of the others were. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she glanced down the hill at the city, her stomach twisting into knots.
Daymon's hand found hers, and his long fingers slid through her own, squeezing lightly. “I'm here,” he whispered.
Immediately, Alayne relaxed. “Each person hold on to someone else,” she said. “Let's try to stay together.”
“I'll lead,” Manders's voice said. “Kary, is that you? Let's go.”
Daymon tugged Alayne forward. She stumbled through the trees, wishing she could see her feet so she would know better where to place them. At last, they crested the ridge and descended the bare hill on the west side of the Capital.
Soldiers stood stationed along the walls, standing at attention as they faced outward, their eagle eyes looking right through Alayne. She hesitated, but walked onward as Daymon tugged her hand again. “How was he planning to get down here without being seen?” she whispered. “Those are a lot of guards.”
“I know,” Daymon replied. “Too many. I wonder if they're preparing for something.”
“Yes,” Manders's voice drifted from the front of the line. “The High Court panel is tomorrow morning, and I'll bet my best brandy that they're expecting trouble.”
“Why is that?” Alayne asked. Her stomach tensed at the reminder of the panel hearing and Manders's expectations of her.
“Because Tarry's in town.”
“What?” Alayne gasped. “How do you know?”
In answer, Daymon's hand raised her own upward, and she felt his index finger rise, pointing. She looked toward the Capital where he'd motioned. The High Court building, just visible from this point on the hill, stood white and glowing in the moonlight, the flag on the apex of its roof unfurled and snapping in the warm night breeze.
“It's the Alliance flag,” Daymon said. “They only fly it when the Madame is in residence.”
The sewer smell hit Alayne's nose like a double-edged sword. The scent was overwhelming, and she stumbled to a halt as she realized where they were headed. Daymon's fingers tightened on her own, and she lurched forward.
“Just hold your breath,” he whispered.
“Indefinitely?”
His quiet laughter was her only answer.
Alayne gulped back her queasiness, wishing she could run back up the hill to clear, fresh air. Ahead of them, the gr
ound flattened into a mushy, soggy mess. Sewer smells wafted in a thick, cloying aroma. The city wall was only fifty yards ahead, and at the base of it, Alayne could see the round, black entrance of a sewage tunnel, half submerged in brackish water. Bars crisscrossed the entrance, and a dull, dark stream of liquid flowed steadily out of it into the rippling surface of muck and scum.
The bile rose in Alayne's throat; she swallowed it back. I will not be sick. I will not be sick. She glanced at her feet where her boots pushed wells of liquid out of the soggy ground with each step. Daymon led her inexorably across the wet marsh. The soldiers above their heads ignored their presence.
They finally reached the gate to the tunnel, and Alayne wondered how Manders planned to get it open without using the elements. The bars seemed to be cemented in place. To her surprise, they bypassed the entrance, Daymon's hand guiding her directly to the wall.
“Looks like we're going through the roof of the tunnel,” he whispered. A moment later, he released her fingers. She heard a grunt, and then his whisper again. “Reach up, Layne. I'll pull you up.”
A second later, his hands slid down her arms to her waist, grasped her firmly, and she rose to the top of the tunnel. A hole had been cut into the cement—the lid lay next to it. “Hop in.” Daymon's whisper had an undertone of amusement.
Alayne didn't see much about which to be amused. She sat next to the hole and slid her feet into the darkness, her ankle bumping someone's head. A whispered “Ouch” accompanied the bump. Alayne quickly dropped in, her boots splashing into the stream beneath. The smell was even worse here, choking the breath from her body.
Daymon's boots splashed just behind her, and his hand found hers again.
“Are we all here and accounted for?” Manders's voice spoke in a low tone.
Alayne and Daymon quickly reached for their bends and unnotched them. All seven of the group appeared, hunched in the shallow tunnel. The bounty hunter looked grumpy, but his gag was firmly in place, and he couldn't say anything.
“Better bind his eyes now.” Manders nodded to Kary. “We'll be there soon.” He glanced at his watch. “The sewage floods this area in about half an hour, and it's going to come rushing through the tunnel, so we need to get to headquarters before then. Let's go.”
He turned into the black tunnel and broke into a jog. Alayne choked back a shudder as she breathed in the sewer scents and followed at a measured pace.
Manders finally arrived at a service door in the tunnel and slid a key into the lock. The door opened with a groan, and Alayne could see a torch-lit tunnel leading to another door.
As the door to the tunnel shut and locked behind them, the overwhelming smell decreased significantly. Alayne breathed a sigh of relief, for once feeling that the air flowing through her lungs wouldn't kill her.
At the second door, Manders knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice. Alayne glanced at the camera in the corner. It angled one way and then the other as it scanned the whole party. A moment later, the door clicked and swung open.
A lavatory of sorts greeted Alayne's grateful gaze. Sinks lined one wall, toilets in stalls the other. “Around the corner to the left are the men's showers,” Manders announced. “Ladies to the right.” He turned to Alayne. “There are towels on the shelves, and a few bathrobes we've been able to scrounge up. I'm sorry, no changes of clothes yet.”
Alayne headed with relief for the showers. The bathrooms were clean and well-kept. She wondered if the Last Order employed a janitorial service. After her shower, she flung the water particles from her hair before waving her hand across the mirror, watching the steamy moisture dissipate from her reflection—a stranger's reflection. She hardly recognized the dark-haired girl in the mirror whose curly locks clustered wildly over her head.
Daymon had exaggerated her looks; she was no knock-out, she decided. But the natural curl in her hair complimented her high cheekbones and narrow facial structure. The dark hair brought out her green eyes with startling brilliance.
She secured her bathrobe more tightly around her waist, and headed for the exit. None of the others were around. She opened the door and headed down the tunnel for the chute.
The buttons weren't labeled in the chute like they were at Clayborne. They were lined neatly from the top to the bottom. Perhaps they corresponded with the order of the floors. Alayne pressed the third button down. The car shot upward and lurched to a stop in front of a row of beds. A sign on the wall said Health Ward. The doors flew open.
Alayne glanced around the room. Empty. She started to reach for the row of buttons again, but the murmur of voices behind a screen stopped her movement. The lilt in one of the voices was unmistakable. Marysa.
Alayne grinned. She wondered what her friend would think of her new look. She stepped off the chute, tip-toeing toward the screen, intending to jump around the side to startle her friend, when she heard a sound that froze her in her tracks.
The soft, slow whisper of a kiss. Another one and then another.
Alayne stared at the screen, suddenly torn between stealing back to the chute unheard or peering around the screen to see who it was with Marysa. Tension tightened her stomach. Surely—it wasn't, it couldn't be—
“You're getting good at that,” Jayme's familiar voice laughed softly, a breathless hitch in it. “I'm going to have to advance you to the next level; you've passed this level with flying colors.”
“You, dear Jay, have been giving me lots of practice, so you have no one to blame but yourself if I pass you up in the kissing department.” Marysa laughed. “Plus, it's fun, you know. Any doctor I've ever seen has told me to have fun, because it's good for your heart. So there we go. I'm taking my medicine every time we kiss. It doesn't have anything to do with you, really. I'm just trying to be healthy.”
Jayme snorted. “Well, then, by all means, I'm nearly healthy now, but I've got a feeling I need some extra care. Come 'ere.”
“I said I was the one who needed to stay healthy, you—”
Another audible kiss, followed by a breathless laugh. “But I guess it's okay if you're healthy, too. This way we match.”
Alayne unfroze from her shock. Her legs felt weaker than wet noodles, and all at once, she realized she could not—could not—let them discover her there. Horrified, she turned for the chute, her cheeks burning, her mind whirling until the doors closed silently behind her. She didn't know what button she pressed next. It was a random one, and the car dropped.
When the doors opened, Alayne stumbled out and sank down against the wall beneath a torch. Betrayal warred with confusion in her mind. Two years ago, Marysa had admitted that she'd been attracted to Jayme, but that she'd never done anything about it because Jayme's attention had always been centered on Alayne.
Then why was she breaking the best friend code now? Why? When Jayme healed from his Shadow-Cast, he was supposed to regain his feelings for her—Alayne. Why hadn't he?
Alayne's heart whispered the answer. Marysa wasn't breaking anything; Jayme had moved on, and Alayne had moved on, too.
She crossed her arms stubbornly, fanning the flame of righteous indignation. Marysa should still have discussed it with her. How dare she step into forbidden territory like that? Marysa knew, she knew, that Jayme was off-limits. How she could so badly overstep the bounds of friendship, Alayne couldn't understand.
Alayne stared morosely at the tops of her knees as they peeked out from her bathrobe. She hugged them to her chest, purposely ignoring the fact that her own feelings for Jayme had changed as well.
Alayne woke slowly, surprised to see the floor so close to her face. The torch above her head now only burned with a dim flicker, and the cold, damp air pressed on Alayne's skin. The sole of a boot moved in the corner of her vision.
She sat up hastily.
Daymon leaned lazily against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his dark lashes sweeping down across his cheeks. At her movement, he cracked his eyelids. “'Bout time you woke up,” he mu
rmured. “They're going to stop serving breakfast in another half an hour.”
Alayne scrubbed her cheeks with the palms of her hands. “How long have I been asleep?” she demanded.
“All night, I think, although I only found you a couple of hours ago.” He pushed himself up from the wall and extended his hand toward her. “Come on, let's go get some food before it's all gone.”
“Food,” Alayne grumped, pointlessly. She allowed him to pull her to her feet. He dropped his hand quickly.
“Then my uncle wants to go over the itinerary for the panel hearing today.”
Alayne panicked. Her attention darted to the clock above the chute—ten-thirty—then back to Daymon. “I—I'm not ready. I don't have the first clue what to do.”
“He's already told you,” Daymon answered patiently. “Just listen to everything that happens, and then, if they declare war—tell 'em who you are.”
Panic still sizzled through Alayne's mind. Revealing her identity before a panel of Alliance Justices? It was like signing her own death warrant. It was signing her own death warrant. “Because if they can't use me, they'll kill me,” she murmured.
Daymon cocked an eyebrow. “Layne, I'll be there, too. You'll be okay.”
But can you stop them if they decide to arrest me and execute me? Her gaze dropped to her feet, and she turned toward the chute, Daymon following her.
The doors swung open to a mostly empty commissary. Four men and a woman sat at a corner table. Another woman slept with her head on her arms nearby.
“Through here,” Daymon motioned to a door on the right. “I smell a bacon and egg casserole.”
As they entered the adjoining kitchen, Alayne stopped short, and Daymon ran into the back of her. “Warn me next time, Layne,” he muttered, his hands steadying her.
Marysa stood at the counter, filling two plates with casserole, balancing a drink in one hand and silverware in the other. She glanced up when she heard Daymon's voice. “Layne?” she shrieked. “Alayne!” She flung down her silverware and the extra cup and launched herself at Alayne.
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