by Claire Frank
Griff laughed. “Oh, I have my sources. You forget, this is our neighborhood.”
Serv walked over to the edge of the roof. “We won’t be able to see anything from here in the dark. If we want to keep watching, we’ll have to move in closer.”
They agreed and made their way down, cutting between the warehouses to keep out of sight. Serv led them upriver, where they still had a clear view of the dock activity. The river meandered in huge curves, and just east of the docks they had an unobstructed view of their target.
Fatigue set in as Cecily leaned back against a stone building. Across the river, the massive city wall jutted straight up out of the water, an impenetrable facade of thick stone. The water looked inky black and the hypnotic sound of the flowing river made it hard to stay awake.
“Cecily.” Serv’s voice was an urgent whisper. “Something’s happening on the ship.”
He crept out onto the rocky sandbar and motioned for her to follow. He paused, peering through the spyglass, then jogged toward the water, partially bent over to stay low. Cecily followed, staying as low as she could. She stubbed her toe on a rock and bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Serv handed her the spyglass and pointed. “Look—on the far side of the ship.”
Cecily raised the spyglass to her eye and looked. A smaller row boat, long enough to have five or six rows of benches, was tied up on the river side of the larger vessel. She crept closer to the water to get a better view. A lantern swinging from the deck above bathed the side of the ship with a weak yellow light, illuminating a man in the smaller vessel. He put down his oars, and as he turned toward the larger ship, he raised his arms.
Cecily squinted to make out what he was doing. Mist built around the smaller boat and a large circle in the side of the ship shimmered, the grain of the wood almost sparkling to translucency. She focused the spyglass on the circle and could see the side of the ship fade, revealing the cargo hold inside. A man stuck his head through what was now a hole and Cecily nearly jumped back in shock. She handed the spyglass back to Serv and used her Awareness. Quickly plotting the structure of the ship, she could sense a massive disruption on the river side. The hole was like a gaping wound in the ship itself, the flows of energy stretched and distorted.
Inside the ship, a knot of people were jammed together in the cargo hold. Narrowing her focus, she could feel the ropes tying their wrists. These were not free passengers; they must be slaves.
A man inside the boat pushed people, one at a time, through the unnatural hole. He grabbed them and lowered them into the vessel waiting outside.
“Do you see this?” Cecily asked, her voice low. “They’re masked. Like the ones who took Daro.”
“I can’t see much through that mist, but it looks like one of them opened up the side of the ship,” Serv answered.
Cecily had never heard of a Wielder who could do such a thing. It was almost like the melding of a Wielding ability and a Shaper talent. “It’s like he made it insubstantial. He’s holding it open, I can feel it.”
The others had crept up behind them. Serv passed the spyglass to Mira and they all took a brief turn, watching the slaves being unloaded into the smaller boat.
“Can’t see a blasted thing through that mist. What do we do?” Griff’s attempt at a whisper made Cecily cringe at the noise.
She turned to Serv. “Signal Merrick. They must be going upriver. We need to be ready to follow.”
Sumara held the spyglass to her eye. “They aren’t going upriver. They’re going across to the wall.”
Cecily swung her attention back to the ship. Sumara was right. Though the mist made it hard to see, the smaller vessel had disengaged from the larger and rowed across the river. Two men pulled oars while their cargo of slaves huddled down in the center.
“Where are they going?” Griff whispered. “There’s nothing over there.”
“Up the wall?” Mira suggested. “Maybe they have someone at the top who will lower ropes.”
The group crept down the riverbank, closer to the docks, and watched the boat row across the inky black water. Cecily locked the ship in her Awareness and expanded her circle to check the wall. “The wall is empty. There’s no one up there.”
Cecily probed the wall near the water. “There’s a stormwater drain over there. I bet it’s big enough for the boat.” As the boat neared the wall, she felt the shimmering effect of the strange Wielder’s power. “He’s dissolving the iron bars of the grate. They’re going to go right underneath the city.” She paused and took a quick look up and down the riverbank. “Signal Merrick. We need to follow.”
She dashed down the riverbank, heading toward the docks, and heard the sound of her friends’ footfalls behind her. Her mind raced, trying to formulate a plan, but she couldn’t think clearly. The thought of letting the boat out of her sight made her panicky. These men might lead her right to Daro.
She reached the docks and skidded to a halt. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she thought she could see the faint outline of Merrick’s boat gliding through the water. The other boat was already disappearing into the storm drain. Merrick wouldn’t reach it in time. She thought about trying to disrupt the Wielder, but her accuracy was poor at such a distance. The river was too wide.
“Damn it, where is Callum?” she asked, speaking more to herself than anyone else. If anyone might know where that storm drain went, it would be Callum. She looked up at the Merchant Span, high above, and thought about how long it would take to get to the north side of the river.
The ground seemed to explode and Cecily flew forward, sand and rocks flying. She landed on her stomach with a groan. As she rose to her knees, her back stung where rocks had pelted her. Out of instinct, her Awareness flew open and she checked on the others. Griff, Serv and Mira were moving, struggling to their feet. Sumara appeared to have taken the brunt of the attack; she remained sprawled on the sand, and although she didn’t move, Cecily could sense her breathing. Another figure loomed behind. She turned and got to her feet as the figure walked toward her.
Her heart caught in her throat and her adrenaline surged as the figure emerged from the darkness, dressed in black, a mask obscuring the face.
“Cecily Graymere?” the figure said. It was a woman, her voice sneering with contempt. “This is a surprise. You should have stayed dead, little bird.”
She knew that voice. She hadn’t been called “little bird” in years, but there was no mistaking it. “Isley?”
“No,” Isley growled. She held her hand in front of her and a knife coalesced, a shining blade with a narrow handle. It dropped into her hand and her fingers curled around the handle.
“What are you doing here, Isley?” Cecily asked and held her hands up in front of her. Isley had been a fellow student at the Lyceum. A Light Wielder, her specialty had been Illusion. They had worked together in the Lyceum of Power, collaborating on some of Hadran’s assignments. She looked at the knife in Isley’s hand. She knew it was an illusion, but it looked eerily real.
“That isn’t who I am,” she said, “not anymore.” She threw the knife at Cecily.
Instinctively, Cecily Wielded to Push the knife off course. Her Reach went right through. She jumped out of the way, even as she told herself it was only an illusion. The knife shot past and she heard the sound of fabric tearing.
Looking down at her clothes, she put her fingers through the hole the knife had made. That’s not possible. Her eyes flew back to Isley. There were knives in both of her hands. Cecily threw herself down onto the ground.
She looked up and saw Serv and Griff rush in to attack. The knives disappeared and Isley’s hands flew up in front of her, creating a stone wall. Griff slammed right into it and flew backward as if he had launched himself into solid stone. Serv sidestepped and turned, missing the wall, and it dissipated as Griff hit. Serv attacked, his curved blade flashing in the weak lamplight. A sword materialized in Isley’s hand and she blocked Serv’s attack. The blade vanished as it hit S
erv’s sword. A stone block materialized in front of Isley and she pushed it toward Serv. It hit him in the chest and knocked him backward.
Cecily got to her feet as an arrow sliced through the air. Mira. Isley blocked it with a shield that scattered apart as the arrow pierced it, leaving the arrow to clatter onto the rocky ground. Mira shot several more, but Isley threw up shield after shield, blocking each arrow before it could reach her. Cecily Wielded, grabbing Isley’s knees with Pressure, but she had to let go as Isley threw more knives at her. One grazed her thigh and her leg blossomed with pain as blood trickled down and soaked into her leggings.
Isley created a massive stone boulder and sent it flying at Mira with terrifying speed. Cecily Reached, trying to Push Mira out of the way, but the stone smashed into her and sent her sprawling onto the sand.
Cecily Pushed air at Isley, trying to knock her off balance, but an axe came flying and she hit the ground again. She rolled back to her feet as a wall of rock rushed at her. She threw her arms over her head and turned so her shoulder took the brunt of the impact. The rock hit and Cecily’s back and shoulder exploded with pain as she crashed to the ground.
Coughing and gasping, Cecily struggled to fill her lungs with air. She tucked her right arm under her body and tried to get to her feet. Sumara was near. She pushed herself up with her arms and shook her head as if to clear it. Cecily turned to see Serv being thrown back by one of Isley’s impossibly solid illusions. Griff attacked from the other side, but Isley created another wall of rock and smashed it into Griff. He hit the ground and rolled to his side, struggling to his knees before he collapsed facedown on the ground.
Cecily met Sumara’s eyes and they nodded. If they could attack her together, they might have a chance. Serv went in for another blow, visibly limping. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder and thigh, Cecily Wielded, Reaching for Isley’s arms. She tugged them apart in opposite directions, hoping it would stop her from creating another illusion. She used Pressure to hold on, squeezing as Isley struggled against her.
“Serv, clear!” Sumara shouted. A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips toward Isley. Serv jumped out of the way as the bolt hit and sent Isley flying backward. Cecily Wielded with all the strength she had left to Push Isley over the water. The lightning jolted around her body, and for a split second she hovered above the water, electricity crackling through her. Cecily let go and Isley splashed into the river, the aftereffects of Sumara’s blast making the water blink and glow in the darkness.
“I hope that was enough,” Sumara said, as she got to her feet. “I won’t be able to do that again for a while.”
She reached down and helped Cecily up. Despite the pounding he had taken, Griff ran to Mira and scooped her up in his arms. She had a bloody gash on her forehead and her eyes remained closed.
“We have to get out of here,” Cecily said. “We don’t know if Isley is dead or whether someone else is coming.” A few sailors peeked out from the docked ships. She whistled again for Merrick, signaling retreat. The answer came from across the river.
***
They limped back to the entrance to the Quarry at the Ale Stone to find Edson waiting for them. A messenger dashed by and Edson stood. He looked Cecily up and down, his eyes wide and his mouth open.
“We need a Serum Shaper for Mira,” Cecily said. Her leg was soaked with blood and she could barely move her arm for the pain in her shoulder and back, but Mira remained unconscious.
“They’re already here,” Edson said. “Someone tried to kill Callum.”
27. KEYS
“Get off, get off, I’m fine.” Callum’s voice carried through the stone hallway.
Cecily peeked around the doorway. Callum was in bed, propped up on pillows. Both eyes were black and swollen, his cheeks a mess of purpling bruises. Cecily entered, keeping her hurt arm tucked close to her body. A Serum Shaper had probed her to assess her injuries, concluding she hadn’t broken any bones. The small woman had wrapped the wound on her leg and assured her that her shoulder and back were merely bruised, though they would be painful for a while.
The Serum Shaper rolled her eyes at Callum. “Very well, you know best,” she said, her long skirts swishing as she walked out of the room.
Cecily sank into a chair next to the bed. Her body ached and she longed for sleep. Another Serum Shaper had been sent to help Mira, with Griff and Serv promising to stay by her side. At Cecily’s insistence, Sumara had gone to find rest. Merrick hadn’t returned, and she desperately hoped he was somehow following the smugglers’ trail.
“What happened?” she asked and gestured to his mangled face. “You look terrible.”
Callum shook his head. “Remember that house I found, where my prisoner said the slaves were being taken?” Cecily nodded. “I left this morning because I got word it burned to the ground. By the time I got there, the fire brigade had put it out, but it was gone. Nothing left but ash and some smoldering timbers. I’d been hoping to get inside, see if we could find anything, but it’s gone.”
Cecily sighed. It felt as if every time they made the slightest bit of progress, they were jerked back to the start again.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” Callum continued. “Someone killed my prisoner while I was at the site of the fire.”
“What?” Cecily breathed. Callum had secret locations stashed all over the city. Few people who weren’t of high rank in the Underground knew about the Quarry, and Cecily knew Callum had plenty of other places at his disposal.
Callum winced and touched the bandage at his neck. “The lock was all warped, as if it had been heated and broken. They didn’t just kill him. They left pieces of him all over the cell. I had that place guarded like a vault full of gold, and whoever did this tore through everybody.”
“The lock on my room at the inn was melted shut. Heated.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“What about all that?” she said, gesturing at his face.
“Two of the smugglers’ men jumped me. Apparently they took it a little personally that I’d gotten one of theirs. They threw a bag over my head, tied me up and beat me quite nicely.” He shifted, groaning as he moved. “It was rather effective, I have to give them that. Then they hauled me up on top of the wall, manacled me with weighted chains and tossed me into the river.”
Cecily’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. How did you survive?”
Callum smiled. He drew out a chain from around his neck and jingled a key. “Swiped this off one of them before they dropped me. Not exactly a trick I’d care to repeat, but it worked out okay for me in the end.” He tucked the key back under his shirt. “You look almost as bad as I do,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I take it things didn’t go so well down at the docks.”
“You could say that,” she said and winced as she stretched out her leg. She told him what they had seen: the mist, the man who’d dissipated the side of the boat, the route through the drain system, and their attacker.
“The woman who attacked you, this Isley. You said you knew her?” Callum asked.
“I did. I’d know that voice anywhere. She was the bane of my existence at the Lyceum.” She rubbed her aching eyes. “She was a Light Wielder, an Illusionist. Her illusions were impressive, but she had a reputation for practical jokes, mean ones. She was disciplined quite a few times when her tricks wound up hurting people. I had to work with her sometimes, when I was in the Lyceum of Power. Hadran thought we made a good team.”
“I bet you did,” Callum said.
“She was masked, like the men who took Daro. It was Isley, but she wasn’t the same. Her illusions had substance. She was beating us to pieces with them. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“At this point, I’m going with the assumption that nothing is impossible anymore,” Callum said in a low voice. “Nihil seems to be doing something to people, changing their abilities. I’m worried he’s done something to Daro.”
“I am too,” Cecily said, her voi
ce quiet.
“We don’t know where they took that shipment of slaves tonight. The manor house is still a smoldering pile of ash and broken timbers. We won’t find anything there. Our only break will be if Merrick manages to follow that boat through the storm drains and figure out where they wind up.”
A thought coalesced in Cecily’s mind. “There’s one thing we’ve been missing in all this,” she said. “The Lyceum.”
Callum raised his eyebrows. “What about the Lyceum?”
“Something has been going on up there. My old professor sent me a note and after everything that has happened, it sounds an awful lot like a warning, and maybe a goodbye. Then he went missing. They claim he’s on sabbatical, but that man hasn’t taken a break from his work in his life, as far as I know.” She paused, and the pieces clicked together in her mind like a children’s puzzle. “We keep getting attacked by men with impossible Wielding abilities. And one of them was one of my cohorts at the Lyceum of Power.”
“You think the Lyceum is behind this?”
“Who else would be putting out Wielders with bizarre abilities? I kept assuming it couldn’t be the Lyceum, but why not? The Lyceum of Power is notorious for bending the rules, if not outright breaking them. Goodness knows I did plenty of it when I was there. Nihil must be part of the Lyceum of Power.”
“You don’t think Daro is there, do you?”
Cecily shook her head. “Probably not. But the Lyceum of Power operates out of the lower levels of the library. If I can get in there, I can probably find out how they’re involved, and hopefully where to find him.”
“Getting in will be touchy. Didn’t they escort you out the last time you were there?”
Cecily gave him a tired smile. “There’s a certain irony in breaking into the place where I learned how to do it, isn’t there?”
