Chapter 161: Awake

Six hours turned out to be long enough to be annoying and too short to be useful. I spent most of them doing nothing, which is normally something I’m very good at. Today, I hated it.

Lunch came and went. I ate, because not eating would have been suspicious. James ate enough for three people; apparently planning a rescue improved his appetite. Sophie barely touched her plate.

Daphne ate everything on hers without looking at it once. Elizabeth talked to Lord Merrow about tomorrow’s journey, and I watched him answer. He looked relaxed, and that bothered me.

Guilty people ought to have the courtesy to look guilty. It would make everything much easier. Instead, Merrow discussed the weather and the state of the western districts like a man whose cellar held wine rather than thirteen people with collars around their throats.

At one point he asked whether I had enjoyed the library.

"No."

James kicked my ankle under the table. Merrow blinked.

"The maps were very good," said James quickly.

"I don’t like books," I explained.

"Some books," Sophie corrected.

I looked at her. She was right, which was irritating.

Merrow smiled. "Perhaps my collection isn’t suited to your interests."

"Probably."

Another kick. I moved my chair further from James. Being normal was exhausting.

***

The sun was starting to sink when Renn called us together for the last time. Elizabeth stood by the window. Sophie was already wearing the plain green coat she had been using in the greenhouse. James leaned against the wall beside the door, and Daphne stood over the map. I sat down. Nobody commented, which I took as a sign of how serious things had become.

Renn pointed at the north side of the estate. "My people are in position."

"How many?" asked James.

"Enough."

I looked at Renn, and he looked back. Apparently everyone had decided to use that word around me now.

"Two at the outer north wall," he went on. "Two near the western field. Another pair by the kitchen yard. All of them have been told they’re watching for movement outside the estate."

"They don’t know about the prisoners?" said Sophie.

"No."

"Why not?" asked James.

"Because the more people who know, the more people who can accidentally show that they know."

That was sensible, and I didn’t like it.

Sorel traced the route from the north wing to the kitchen gate. "If this stays quiet, Renn’s people don’t move until the prisoners reach the courtyard."

"And if it doesn’t stay quiet?" said James.

"They move sooner."

James nodded, and looked a little too pleased about it. Renn noticed.

"You are not hoping for that."

"I’m not."

"You look like you are."

"That’s just my face."

"It isn’t."

Elizabeth turned from the window. "The conversation starts at sunset. I’ve asked Merrow for an hour."

"Keep him there," said Renn. "Don’t accuse him of anything. Don’t mention the north wing. If he decides to leave..."

"I keep him from leaving." Renn’s eyes narrowed, and she added, "Politically."

"Good."

"I’ll be in the greenhouse, watching the north courtyard," said Sophie. "If the guards move, I find James."

James lifted a hand. "And I find them."

"No Spatial unless it’s necessary," said Renn.

"I know."

"You said that yesterday."

"I knew it yesterday too."

Renn let that go and looked at Daphne and me. "You two go in once Elizabeth has Merrow occupied."

"And if the guard with the black key isn’t there?" I asked.

"Then you don’t touch the collars."

James straightened. "We can’t leave them collared."

"We also can’t take thirteen suppression collars off without the key."

"Daphne opened an iron bar."

"A lock isn’t a bar," said Daphne.

James looked at her. "Could you break it?"

"Probably."

"No," said Renn.

Daphne nodded. Apparently Renn worked on everyone.

"What if they start the transport before we have the key?" asked Sophie.

Renn looked at the map. "Then the plan changes."

He didn’t say into what. I suspected that was because nobody knew.

Sorel glanced at the window, where the light had gone orange. "Five minutes."

Nobody said anything after that, because there was nothing left to say. Elizabeth took one slow breath and straightened her jacket. James pushed away from the wall. Sophie closed her hands once and opened them. Daphne looked at me, and I picked up Dream Haven.

She stared at it.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Good."

[Host.]

’Don’t.’

[I have not said anything.]

’Everyone is thinking it.’

[That is because everyone is correct.]

I tucked Dream Haven under my arm. Some things were not negotiable.

***

Elizabeth left first. A servant arrived exactly at sunset to take her to the eastern sitting room, where Merrow was waiting with enough papers and border maps to make James look genuinely horrified.

"Good luck," he told her.

Elizabeth looked at the stack. "Thank you."

"I meant with surviving the conversation."

"I know."

Sophie left two minutes later, and James went after four. Daphne and I waited six, because Renn had insisted, and I counted every one of them. By the fourth minute I understood why people disliked waiting. By the fifth I was thinking about leaving early. In the sixth, Daphne opened the door before I could.

"Now."

The corridor was empty. Evening had changed the house. The lamps along the walls were lit, but the last of the sunlight still came through the western windows, and servants were moving faster now, carrying trays toward the dining hall and drawing curtains for the night. Nobody looked twice at two students walking toward the gallery. That was the point.

James was at the corner near the north passage, pretending to study a map mounted on the wall. He didn’t look at us when we stopped beside him.

"The guard with the key is still in the north courtyard," he said quietly. "By the service doors, with one other."

"Merrow?"

"With Elizabeth."

"And Sophie?"

"Hasn’t signaled." He finally glanced at us. "So nothing has changed."

"Yet," said Daphne.

I didn’t like that word. We left him there and went on.

***

The north wing doors were unlocked, which was new. Daphne noticed too. She put one hand on the handle without opening it, and we listened. Nothing. Through the gap I could smell the salve, stronger than it had been that morning, and fresh food. Daphne eased the door inward, and we slipped through into an empty hall.

The velvet rope still hung across the upper stair. I looked up it.

"Later," said Daphne.

"I didn’t say anything."

"You looked."

Apparently looking had become incriminating. We went down.

The lower corridor was exactly as I remembered it: cold stone, storerooms, old wood, lamp oil. At the barred door we stopped. There were no voices in the corridor, and breathing on the other side of the wood. Daphne set two fingers under the iron bar, and it rose. I caught it and lowered it out of the way, and we opened the door.

Golden eyes turned toward us. Nobody stood. For one very unpleasant second, nothing had changed: the same blankets, the same buckets, the same two children, the same black collars. The older woman sat against the wall exactly where I had left her, and her eyes hardened when she saw me.

"You came back."

"Yes."

She looked at Daphne, and then at Dream Haven. Apparently the pillow had become part of my identity.

"Why?"

I reached into my storage ring, and her whole body changed before the token was properly in my hand. It was small and wooden, carved into the shape of a cat’s head and worn smooth by years of being carried. I crouched and held it where she could see it. Three of the others leaned forward too.

"Where did you get Lyssairia Veyra’s token?" she said.

"She gave it to me."

"Where?"

"Across the border. Nearly four years ago."

She looked at it for a long time, and then at me.

"That earns you my attention," she said. "Nothing more."

"That’s enough for tonight."

"Does she live?"

"She did when I left."

Her eyes closed for half a second. When they opened, it wasn’t trust in them, not yet, but there was room for it now.

"We’re getting you out," I said.

Her gaze went to the children. "All of us?"

I almost said yes. Then I remembered Renn: evidence first, promises second.

"Everyone in this room," I said. "And anyone else you tell us about."

Her expression changed again, slightly, and for the better. "What do you need?"

"The collars off."

The hope went out of her face at once. "They don’t come off."

"They do."

"Not without the key."

"We’re getting the key."

One of the men laughed once, with no humor in it at all. "Getting it."

"It’s close."

The older woman watched me. "Humans say many things."

"I remember."

That stopped her. I put the token away.

"This time you don’t have to believe me yet."

Daphne went to the door. "We need everyone ready to walk."

A woman against the far wall looked down at her leg. "I can’t."

I went to her. Her ankle was badly swollen under a strip of cloth.

"How long?"

"Three days."

I felt along it. Not broken. Probably. I hated that word when other people used it, and only slightly less when I did.

"Can you stand?"

She tried. Her face went white before she was halfway up. "No."

I laid my hand over the swelling, and warm light spread between my fingers. The room went very still. I didn’t repair everything; I didn’t need to. I only needed enough. The swelling went down, and her breathing changed, and I stopped.

"Try."

She stood, carefully, and this time she made it all the way. Several people were staring at me.

"Healer," said the older woman.

"Unfortunately."

Daphne looked at me. "What?"

"Nothing."

The man with the torn skin under his collar was next, but there was little I could do for him while the metal was still there. The girl with the injured ribs needed more than I could give her in a cellar, so I eased it just enough for her to breathe and walk. Enough to run, if she had to. Not enough to empty myself before the night had properly started.

Then I heard wheels.

They were faint, and somewhere above us: the north courtyard. Iron rims on stone, and a horse blowing, and a man’s voice giving an order I couldn’t make out. Daphne’s head came up.

"Carts," she said.

"It’s sunset."

"They aren’t waiting for dark."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, coming down the service passage. Two men, from the rhythm. No, three. The older woman moved toward the children. I stood.

"Behind the sacks?" I whispered.

Daphne shook her head. There wasn’t time.

The iron bar outside lifted, and Daphne wasn’t touching it. We had nowhere to go, again. I was beginning to truly dislike this room.

The door opened. A guard stepped in, and the black key hung from his belt.

"On your feet," he said. "The ones who are going. Collars come off at the carts..."

Then he saw me. His eyes widened, and mine probably did too. For one stupid second, I was pleased to see the key.

His hand dropped toward his sword. Daphne raised two fingers, and he hit the floor. Not forward, but straight down, as if the weight of a second man had landed on his shoulders. His knees struck the stone first, then both hands, and his sword stayed half in its sheath.

The second guard appeared in the doorway. "What..."

I put a Barrier across the opening. He ran into it shoulder first, and the impact went through the pane and into me, a hard pull behind my breastbone, and my feet slid half a step. He shouted, which was bad. Then Daphne’s fingers moved again, and his legs folded under weight he hadn’t been carrying a moment before. He went down against the doorframe, and his head hit the stone, and he stayed down.

The third man had been further back. He ran.

"James," I said, as though saying his name might summon him.

There was a sharp crack in the corridor beyond, like air snapping shut, and then silence. Daphne looked at me.

"That wasn’t me," I said.

"I know."

Two seconds later James appeared in the doorway, dragging the third guard by the back of his coat. His face was pale, and he was breathing harder than a short run should have made him.

"Sophie found me," he said. "There are carts in the north courtyard. Then I heard shouting."

"You used Spatial."

"He was running toward the courtyard."

"Renn said..."

"He was running toward the courtyard."

That was difficult to argue with. He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest for a moment, and then took it away as though I hadn’t seen. I had. I said nothing about it yet.

Behind him, the second guard groaned. James looked at my Barrier. "Nice."

"Thank you."

Daphne added weight to the first guard, and he grunted. "Key," she said.

He stared at her. She added more, and the stone under his hands creaked.

James raised an eyebrow. "That’s terrifying."

"Key."

The guard looked at me, then at James, then at the prisoners, and something in his face changed as he understood exactly how badly his evening had gone. His hand crept toward his belt.

"Two fingers," said Daphne.

He obeyed. The ring of keys came free, and I let the Barrier drop long enough to take it. Up close, the red stone in the black key had a thin line carved across its center, the same line as on the collar stones.

"Probably," I said.

Daphne looked at me.

I went to the man with the torn neck. He didn’t move as I came close. The collar had no keyhole I could see, which would have been too convenient. I held the black key against the stone, and nothing happened.

James leaned in. "Maybe..."

"Don’t."

"I was going to help."

"That’s why I said don’t."

The man swallowed, and the collar shifted against his raw skin, and I saw it: a narrow slot beneath the stone. I slid the key in. The stone flashed red and went dark, and there was a soft click, and the collar opened.

Nobody breathed. I lifted it away from his throat, and he touched the skin underneath with both hands, and looked at the collar, and then at me.

"Again," said Daphne.

I did it again, and then again. The room changed with every click. People stood straighter. Ears came up. One woman began to cry without making a sound. The older woman didn’t. She watched the children, whose collars were smaller.

I knelt by the first one. The little girl was awake now, and staring at me.

"Will it hurt?"

"No," I said, and hoped I was right.

The key went in, and the collar clicked open, and she touched her throat. The older woman put her hand over her mouth, and that was when I understood that she had never really believed we would succeed. I wasn’t sure I had either.

The second child’s collar opened, and then the older woman’s. She held the black metal in both hands after I took it off, and for several seconds she didn’t move at all. Then she set it down carefully on the floor.

"Thank you," she said.

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I nodded.

James was binding the guards’ wrists with strips torn from an old blanket, and Daphne kept the first one pinned until his hands were tied.

"How long until someone notices?" I asked.

James looked toward the corridor. "There are men and carts up there waiting for these three to bring prisoners. Not long."

"Can everyone move?"

"Most of them."

"Most?"

"Him," I said, and pointed at the man with the torn neck. "I need a minute."

"We may not have one."

"Then thirty seconds."

James opened his mouth, and I added, "That’s less than a minute." He closed it.

Healing light spread across the man’s neck. The torn skin closed slowly, not completely, but enough. The System flickered at the edge of my vision, and I ignored it.

Daphne crouched in front of the older woman. "Are there others? Anywhere in the house?"

The older woman’s eyes went to the ceiling.

"Upstairs?" said James.

"Not like us." Her voice dropped. "Tiger warriors. Four of them. And him."

"Him?" I said.

"The one who sold us to the human."

My hands went still on the man’s neck. Thirteen people in this cellar, and five upstairs. Eighteen. Elizabeth’s kitchens had been feeding fifteen to twenty more people than the household admitted to. The second room had never been for prisoners at all.

"The door up there locks from outside," said Daphne.

"The human locks them in while he has guests," said the older woman. "So nobody finds them by accident. The guards talk."

James looked at me. I looked at the ceiling.

Then, somewhere outside, a bell began to ring. Once. Twice. Three times. It wasn’t the midday bell. It was an alarm. Somebody in the courtyard had finally wondered why three men hadn’t come back with the prisoners.

James’s face changed. "That isn’t ours."

Daphne was already at the door. I stood up, and the older woman’s fingers closed around my sleeve.

"Don’t go upstairs."

"Why?"

For the first time since I had met her, she looked frightened for us rather than for herself.

"Because the tiger is awake."

Nobody moved. Above us, something heavy struck a door, once, and the wood groaned. Then again, and the whole ceiling seemed to shake.

James looked slowly at me. I looked at Daphne. Daphne looked toward the stair.

The third blow split something upstairs, and outside the north wing, men began to shout.

So much for normal.