the tin down gently. It was heavy in her hands and sloshing with a liquid she could already guess wasn’t water. Sure enough, it was full to the brim with a black, inky substance Miranda recognized from when Mellinor’s water first touched the powder in her cell. It was the poison, and from the look of it, very concentrated. If Eli had Enslaved the door or opened it or busted it down in any way, this stuff would have drenched him, paralyzing him completely. A good thief catch, she had to admit, much better than burning oil or anything that could kill or disfigure. The best bounty depended on him being alive and recognizable.
Very, very carefully, Miranda emptied the tin in the far corner of the prison, standing back as the black liquid pooled in a low spot on the stone. When it was all gone, she went back to Mellinor and told Monpress to get in position.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he called back.
Miranda gave the signal and the water burst up in a geyser, shooting out of the pit before turning in midair, like water in a pipe, and barreling straight for Eli’s cell door. It hit the iron like a hammer and the metal squealed, but didn’t give way. The water wasn’t finished, though. Mellinor gathered himself in the door’s cracks, pushing his water between the stone and the metal. With no hinges, the door depended on its resolve to stay upright, but no resolve was strong enough to hold with water in every crevice. It clung for a few moments more, and then, with a defeated squeal, the door fell forward, crashing to the ground.
Almost before it hit, Eli jumped out. He was dirty and pale, his short black hair standing up at all angles, but he was beaming as he grabbed Miranda’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake.
“I knew I could count on you,” he said, clasping her hand tightly in his. “I always told Josef, if there’s one Spiritualist with her head on right, it’s Mira-”
He was interrupted by the clink of a lock closing. Eli looked down. The hand that was shaking Miranda’s now had a manacle around its wrist, the other end of which Miranda was fastening around her own. It was one of the manacles from the rack on the wall, and she locked it in place with a key from the key ring he’d given her before tossing the entire ring into the pit of her former cell.
“Eli Monpress,” she said, grinning like her ghosthound, “you are now under the authority of the Spirit Court.”
Eli looked down at his wrist, wiggling his hand against the tight, sharp, metal band. “That was a dirty trick.”
Miranda didn’t stop smiling. She held out her hand, and Mellinor blasted himself against the prison’s outer door, popping the hinges. The door fell over with a squeal of metal on stone, and Mellinor returned to Miranda, leaving the excess water he had gathered to drain away back into Miranda’s cell.
Eli watched as the keys vanished under a layer of filthy, poisoned water. “A
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, walking quickly and quietly, using Mellinor’s light to guide her. “You’re the master of dirty tricks.”
“I thought you were above all that,” he said, letting her drag him. “And you
“Maybe not for long,” she said, “but if I can keep you under control for even an hour, it will be worth it.” She came to a stop at another door, a wooden one this time, blocking the entire hall. It was locked, of course, with a padlock that looked very similar to the one on her cell.
“Well,” Eli said. “I doubt your little spout spirit there has enough water to bash this one in. If only we still had the keys.”
Miranda silenced him with a jab to the ribs and pressed her ear against the door. She could hear shouting on the other side, shouting and guard whistles. They didn’t seem to be coming her way, though. She bent down lower to examine the lock when the door rattled softly. Miranda jumped, slapping her hand over Eli’s mouth as she pressed them back into the wall. The door rattled again, and there was an almost inaudible click as the lock popped open.
Miranda dampened Mellinor’s light to nearly nothing and then reached up to grabbed an unlit torch from the wall bracket above her. She brandished the torch like a bat as the door opened. The moment a head came into view, she braced herself and brought her makeshift weapon down with all the force she could muster.
A second before it would have conked his head, her target dodged. He spun, a shadow in the dark hall, grabbing her arm as he went. She barely had time to gasp before she was on the floor with her arm wrenched behind her and the stranger’s knee in her back.
“Well,” a cultured voice whispered just above her head. “Eli, what are you doing, letting the lady go first?”
The pressure vanished from Miranda’s back, and she felt the chain jerk as Eli rolled over on the floor beside her.
“
The man, whoever he was, ignored Eli completely, and a black-gloved hand swooped down to help Miranda to her feet.
“Apologies, my dear,” he said kindly. “The boy never could learn manners.”
Miranda took the hand gingerly, very confused, and lifted her head to see a tall, thin man in late middle age with a handsome, cultured smile wearing wrapped clothes in varying shades of black.
“Giuseppe Monpress,” he said, before she could ask. “You must be Miranda. Gin has told us all about you.”
“Gin?” she said, her voice rising in a rush of hope. “Is he here? What do you mean you’re Monpress?”
“It’s not a terribly uncommon name,” the man said. “And your hound is currently making a fine distraction running circles around the duke’s men. Now”-he took her arm, the one that wasn’t chained to Eli, whom the man seemed to have forgotten-“we should hurry. The duke’s a clever man. He’ll tear away from the ruse soon enough. We’ve got a little time before Josef and Nico’s cavalry shows up, however. Meeting you here has put me ahead of schedule.”
“Well, good for you,” Eli said, elbowing his way between them. “I, however, am in a hurry to miss my date with the duke, so if you don’t mind…”
He made a series of gestures toward the door. The older Monpress shrugged and, gesturing for Miranda to go ahead, let Eli lead the way up the narrow stairs to the maze of tunnels that ran below the citadel, speaking up only to correct the thief when he was taking them in entirely the wrong direction.
CHAPTER 18
Josef and Nico snuck through the empty streets. Above them, lights flickered behind the wobbly glass windows in the upper stories of the lovely houses, but Josef and Nico saw no one. Though it was still early, all the restaurants were dark and closed, same with the taverns, and even the inns. Whatever command of the duke’s had cleared the streets earlier was obviously still in effect, and now that Eli was caught, even the patrols were off the streets, leaving Nico and Josef to run in the shadows behind the watchful lamps and toward the dark river and the docks beyond.
“At least the paving stones aren’t trying to trip us anymore,” Josef grumbled, stomping harder on the cobbled street than was strictly necessary. “I guess Eli was right when he said the spirits couldn’t keep it up forever.”
“Or they just aren’t looking for us,” Nico said. “Spirits are famously bad at finding nonwizards. Humans all look the same to most spirits.”
“Lucky us,” Josef said, hopping up the stairs toward the tall bridge that was the only way across the river. They kept to the back line of storehouses, ducking behind crates and barrels until they reached the dusty, neglected warehouse they’d slept in the night before. Josef flipped the rusty lock with impatient fingers. He could almost feel the Heart inside, waiting for him. The door opened with a groan, and they slipped inside.
With the docks empty, there were no fires burning in the braziers outside. Without the ambient light, the warehouse was ink black, forcing Josef to stop at the threshold and let his eyes adjust. Nico went on ahead of him, striding confidently into the dark. That was typical. The dark never seemed to slow her down, which was why he
