“I’m not getting in that,” Alys said. “It looks like it’s a hundred years old.”
“Someone’s kept it in good repair,” Newt said, running his fingers along the tarred sides.
“We don’t even know what’s on the other side of the lake.”
“Our only other option is to go back to the fork and take the other passage,” Evander said.
“We don’t have time for that,” Cassa said.
“If we take the boat, at least we know that no one can follow us,” Newt said.
Alys frowned across the lake, but Newt could see the resignation settling into her face. She looked as if she wanted to say something else but paused. They all heard the sound at the same time, a faint echo, almost impossible to pinpoint as it ricocheted around them.
Rapid footsteps.
“That solves that dilemma. Get in.” Cassa handed Alys the pistol.
Alys hopped in and pulled the ghost globe into her lap. Newt grabbed an oar and clambered in beside her, nearly capsizing the boat in his haste. Evander and Cassa pushed them off and swung in from each side, nearly capsizing it again. Newt tossed Evander the other oar, and they began to paddle in tandem, pushing them farther away from the shore.
Three guards came into view, shouting so furiously that their words were just chaos in his ears. They were lifting their guns.
“Duck,” Alys gasped, trying to hide the light and throw off their aim.
Newt’s gut told him it was too late. The guards were too close, and they had four targets. They wouldn’t miss.
And yet there were no gunshots.
Newt squinted toward the shore as he struggled to keep pace with Evander. All three of the men had stopped moving, one with his finger on the trigger, the others with their guns only half-raised, staring forward. Newt looked around but couldn’t see what they were looking at. The lake only extended into further darkness. He looked back toward the shore, just in time to see one of the men collapse. His gun slid from his hand, at the edge of the water. The other men collapsed moments after. They rocked on the ground, moaning and holding their heads. One of them let out a ghastly shriek of pain. Then one by one they fell silent, fell limp. All else on the rapidly receding shore was perfectly, impossibly still.
THE NIGHT CASSA MET VESPER
Cassa was inside the citadel for only the second time in her life. Tonight there was no throng of people to gawk at in the streets, no droning of a councilor in the Great Hall. Tonight there was only silence, the schooling of her own breath, the tension in her muscles from being poised for so long. She was watching and waiting. It was almost midnight. And on the twelfth bell, they were going to burn down the chapel.
Her lookout position was atop the roof of the stables across the street. She could see the chapel clearly, as well as all the paths leading toward it. It was built of gray stone, meant to be sturdy rather than beautiful, like most things behind the citadel walls. Like all chapels of the Slain God, there was a small alcove inset above the doors, encased in glass, for the eternal flame. Alchemist’s Fire, blue and swirling and lovely. Very distantly, she could hear shouting. That was the distraction—her mother’s task. She had sneaked past the citadel walls first, through a sewer drain. It was her job to provoke the guards on patrol routes near the chapel into a chase.
“Don’t worry, she’s very provoking,” her father had said on the night this plan had taken shape, his eyes glinting in the lamplight of their cramped kitchen.
Their fellow compatriots had chuckled, but her mother only smiled. She had a clever smile. A knowing smile. Her amusement was always the sort that left the rest of the world on the outside, wishing to be let in.
“True enough,” she’d said.
Cassa had watched her mother’s hand slip under table, where it found her husband’s with familiar ease. When other couples held hands, it was tender and romantic. When her parents held hands, it was a reminder of how unbreakable they were together. How untouchable.
Her father was in charge of leading the rest of them to the chapel. They weren’t going to the main chapel in the Mirror Keep but to a smaller one attached to the western wall. The fire wasn’t about damaging the citadel. They wanted to send a message to the council. Their walls couldn’t keep them safe anymore. The end was coming.
They had chosen midnight because it was hours after the last acolyte had left the chapel and hours before the first would arrive in the morning. Chapels of the Slain God were left unlocked for the reverent at all hours, but reverence was hard to come by in the middle of the night. No one would get hurt, but the message would be clear. The council would feel its sting.
Cassa wasn’t the only lookout, but she was the only one small enough to climb through one of the stable’s windows and take the ladder to the loft and then onto the roof. She was on her stomach, peering over the edge of the gutter. There was a tilt to the roof, and her head hurt from all the blood flowing to it, but there were only a few minutes left.
A whistle sounded to her left, quick enough to be a bird call. Cassa eyed the murky streets for a bit longer, then licked her lips and whistled the all clear. After a few moments, there was another whistle somewhere to her right.
The closer they got to midnight, the faster Cassa’s heart raced. She’d helped the rebels before in small ways. She’d carried clandestine messages across the city and lugged provisions from one safe house to another. This was the first time she’d persuaded her parents to let her do something meaningful. She refused to let herself be afraid. She couldn’t let them down.
She took deep breaths until her heart maintained a steadier rhythm. The bells in the clock tower began to ring. Because she knew what to look for, she saw three shadows detach from the wall and slip across the cobblestones to surround the chapel. They were going to set a fire just inside each of the three entrances simultaneously, to ensure that it wouldn’t be easily put out. The exterior of the chapel was mostly stone, but the interior was wood paneling and pews and old tapestries. With the help of a little lamp oil, it would burn quickly.
Even in the darkness, she could pick the shape of her father out of the shadows. He wasn’t the tallest or the broadest, but he had a way to his movements. He wasn’t cautious and creeping like the others. He strode straight to the main entrance as if he were the high chancellor himself. Her father wasn’t afraid of being caught. He was only ever afraid that the mission wouldn’t be complete.
Cassa tore her eyes away from the motion at the chapel to keep an eye on the streets. Now were the most precarious moments of the entire enterprise. Her father and the others were totally exposed. The streets remained empty. The only light came from the Alchemist’s Fire. This side of the citadel was mostly storage buildings and stables and a few shops. There shouldn’t be anyone nearby at this hour.
She heard the crackling of flames and looked back to the chapel in time to see the front windows glimmer orange as the fire roared to life within. Three shadows flitted away from the chapel and melded back into the wall. It was done then. So quickly. So quietly.
Cassa watched the figures of the other two lookouts drop from their posts and disappear into the night. She was supposed to climb back down the way she’d come and meet her father and the others in the sewer drain. She started to shimmy across the roof toward the little access door that led into the loft, but then she heard something that made her heart skip a beat.
A scream.
She hesitated, then crawled back to the edge of the roof, searching the night for the source of the sound. The area was growing brighter with every passing second as the fire blazed. Another cry. Someone was repeatedly calling for help. She thought someone must have noticed the fire, but the streets were empty. Then she realized the cries were coming from inside the chapel.
Her blood ran cold.
The flames had already consumed the front of the chapel, and she had no doubt the two side entrances were engulfed as well. She scanned the area, hoping one of the others had heard the
plea, had come back to help. But they were already gone.
No one was supposed to get hurt.
Without letting herself think about it, Cassa gripped the edge of the roof and swung down. She dangled from her arms for a second, then dropped the rest of the way into the pile of hay below. The landing hurt worse than she’d expected, but she rolled with the impact as her mother had taught her and started running. She vaulted over the low fence surrounding the stable. All the horses were inside for the night, but she could hear a few start to whinny nervously.
She ran to the chapel, aware that she was in the open now and vulnerable. Her father would be furious if he knew the risk she was taking. She couldn’t stop though. They had chosen this spot because the chances of anyone noticing the fire before it had already consumed the chapel were slim. She was the only one who could hear the screams. She couldn’t just leave a person to die.
The front of the chapel was a wall of flame. She circled to the right, coughing in the smoke that was already drifting into the cool night air. There was a tremendous crash inside the chapel. The screaming had stopped. The newer chapels to the Slain God didn’t have many windows, but this one still had the old, stained glass archways that reached almost from the ground to the roof. Cassa finally found a window near the back that wasn’t glowing orange. She picked up two fist-size stones from the little flower garden that ran along the chapel’s exterior and flung them both through the glass. Then she slipped out of her jacket and wrapped it around her hand. She punched at the jagged remaining pieces of the window until she thought she could fit through.
Smoke billowed into her face. She held her breath and climbed inside. There were cutting stings on her arm and leg, but she didn’t slow down. Her heart was pounding so fast that it was just a steady hum inside her chest. In a distant part of her mind, she recognized the absurdity of what she was doing. She wasn’t big or strong. If this person was unconscious, there was no way she’d be able to drag them out. That was assuming they were even alive.
That was assuming she’d be able to stay alive long enough to find them.
She made her way to the center of the chapel, where the smoke wasn’t as thick. Flames danced at the corner of her vision, but they weren’t close enough to hurt her yet. The smoke was a different story.
She stood in the center aisle, still holding her breath, and blinked against her burning tears as she searched the chapel for any sign of movement. Her lungs had begun to ache, and she had almost decided to give up the fool’s errand when she heard a weak, coughing cry. She ran for the altar.
Flames had reached the ceiling of the apse, and one of the wooden crossbeams had already fallen down. It had splintered on the wide stone altar where the Slain God’s candles were lit during services. Beyond that, at the rear of the apse, a girl was clutching at one of the thick, faded tapestries. A long red braid fell down her back, streaked gray with ash, and her dress was the fine, flouncing attire of nobility. Cassa half ran, half stumbled up the steps and around the altar. She grabbed the girl’s arm. The girl whirled around. She had to be around the same age as Cassa. A litany of emotions flashed through her wide eyes. Shock. Confusion. Relief.
Then she coughed out one word: “Help.”
Cassa’s lungs felt ready to burst, and she sucked in a short breath that felt more like smoke than oxygen. The girl was clambering at the tapestry again. Maybe her head was jumbled from the lack of air. Cassa tugged at her arm.
“This way,” she managed to spit out. “The window.”
She pointed, but at that moment another ceiling beam roared to the ground just behind them, showering them with embers. The girl let out a little shriek and redoubled her incomprehensible efforts with the tapestry. Cassa wiped her arm across her face. Her vision was so blurred with smoke and tears, she couldn’t see the altar anymore, even though it was less than a hundred feet away. Everywhere she looked, the smoke was tinged orange now. The way she’d come was probably already swallowed in flame.
Her parents would never have found themselves in this situation. They never would have charged in without a plan. She wondered vaguely if they’d even know what had happened to her.
Then came a smack on her shoulder, and she shook herself free of the wandering thoughts. The girl was staring at her, this time with purpose.
“Help me with the latch,” she said. Her voice was low and ragged but clear enough.
Cassa frowned and looked at the girl’s hands. She realized the girl wasn’t tugging on the tapestry but on a sliding wooden latch behind it. Cassa grabbed the edge of the cloth and yanked it back. There was another door.
She didn’t waste any more time. She needed to breathe, and there wasn’t any air left in the chapel. The heat had grown unbearable. The roar of flame was deafening. She gripped the latch beside the girl, and together they pulled. With both their weak efforts combined, the stubborn wood slid free, and Cassa yanked the door open. She was greeted by a blast of cool air so invigorating that she realized she was grinning. The girl tugged her by the arm, and together they ran into the dark tunnel beyond the door. After a few feet, the tunnel split into two narrower passages. The girl hesitated a moment and then pulled her to the left. They stumbled single file through the dark until they reached a dead end. The girl groped across the wall, and Cassa heard a rattling sound. A doorknob. To a door that was obviously locked.
Cassa’s heart sank, but the girl only turned and slid past her. Cassa pressed up against the wall, feeling the heavy brush of far too many layers of skirt against her legs.
“Wrong way,” said the girl, running back the way they’d come. “Come on.”
“Where are we?” Cassa asked through her scratchy throat.
“Inside the wall.”
They passed through the fuming smoke from the chapel door and kept running down the opposite passage. They didn’t have much farther to go before reaching another dead end. From the fiery glow emanating from the chapel a few yards behind them, Cassa could see another wooden door, set into the passage wall on their left. It was only a few feet tall and wide. They worked together to open the two stubborn latches, and finally the door swung open into the free night air. The girl crawled out first, then Cassa.
They were on damp grass. Cassa flipped over to rest on her elbows and gazed in awe at the massive height of stone rising above her. They were in the upper echelon, outside the citadel wall. They were alive.
Beside her the girl was coughing wildly. Cassa looked around, and in the distance she could see the light of lanterns moving toward them. Guards.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she dragged herself to her feet. Her knees were wobbly. A few coughs forced their way out of her chest.
“Go,” the girl said weakly. She was struggling to stand. “Before they see you.”
The offer caught Cassa by surprise, and she scrutinized the girl. Her pale skin was flushed red and dusted with ash, and her hair was a frizzy mess, but in that voluminous satin gown, there was no mistaking her for anything but a blueblood. Had she guessed that Cassa had something to do with the fire?
“You don’t even know who I am,” Cassa said, even as her legs were itching to escape.
“You don’t know who I am either,” said the girl, meeting Cassa’s eyes.
Cassa hesitated, and then, because she was certain she would never see the girl again, she said, “I’m Cassa.”
“I’m Vesper.”
Cassa smiled at her tentatively, and Vesper smiled too. Cassa broke into a run toward the heart of the city, away from the guards. She didn’t look back. She never slowed down.
ELEVEN
ALYS
Alys was determined to keep a measure of how long they spent paddling across the lake, to create in her mind some kind of picture of how wide it actually was. But it proved an impossible task, with only the rhythmic splashes of the paddles and the unsteady hammering of her pulse to mark time. Her thoughts too were a distraction. In this vast cavern, with the blue of thei
r globe being swallowed in darkness only a few yards in all directions, it was easy to turn her thoughts inward, taking stock of her own fears. And her mind was racing backward too, to the shore they’d left behind, to the citadel guards who were probably still lying there. Were they dead?
There was no ready answer. Only the movement of the paddles, the beating of her heart.
She sat at the prow of the boat, facing the boys and Cassa. None of them had spoken since watching the guards fall. Alys held the globe in her lap, hating the way the ghastly blue light shone on Evander’s and Newt’s faces, casting deep shadows, making them seem half-skeletal, half-gone. She shied away from that thought and turned her attention over the side of the boat. She held the light just above the surface, delighted by how it rippled outward, magnified by the crystal water. The lake was so clear that she could see fish swimming, ugly, mottled things but amazing nonetheless. How could anything live down here, so far from any hope of sunlight?
Despite the clarity of the water, she couldn’t judge the lake’s depth. Her own light was reflected back at her too vividly. It could have been a few feet or a few leagues. From the corner of her eye, just at the edge of the light, she thought she saw a dark shape in the water, much too large to be a fish, much too quick for her to discern anything else. She settled back on her seat, hugging the globe to her lap, thinking of the sorts of creatures utter darkness could create.
It was Cassa who spoke first, naturally. Always.
“I don’t know what happened back there, but I vote we take credit for it when the time comes for the bards to sing of our wondrous deeds. Agreed?”
Alys smiled, and the boys both huffed a little in laughter. A nervous release more than anything. She knew that’s what Cassa was aiming for. Cassa could be devastatingly clever, but she wasn’t always reckless with it. Sometimes she was extremely calculating. Alys had learned to see that over the past couple of years, to respect it.
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