other held an empty glass ball just below the pipette’s sharp mouth, catching the blue water as it dripped. As each drop fell, the wizards whispered together.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet.”
The words sounded more like droning than human speech, but the wizards always looked so intense while they said it that Sparrow suspected there must be a great deal of mental effort involved. That seemed to be the case with most wizardry, actually. Yet another reason to be glad he didn’t have to worry about any of that nonsense.
He wound through the gauntlet of droning wizards to the heavy, padded door at the room’s far end. Sparrow pulled the handle gently, opening the heavy contraption just enough to slip through. The door didn’t make a sound as it swung, but Sparrow knew better than to congratulate himself on this. This door was Sara’s, and it wouldn’t have made a sound if he’d kicked it off its hinges. Any noise at all was anathema for the door to the Quieting Room. Beyond the silent door there was nothing but darkness and a set of padded stairs leading down. Sparrow followed them, his soft boots falling as silently as everything else.
From the doorway, the Quieting Room looked little bigger than a closet, but it went down forever, digging deep below the cavern’s floor into the heart of the black granite outcropping that supported the citadel above. It was also dark, nearly as dark as the space between the tanks with the same stiflingly, oppressive feel. Sparrow suspected the two were related, but he’d never gotten curious enough to risk the lecture Sara would give him if he asked. Instead, he used the quiet to his advantage, creeping down through the dark until the stair opened up into a second, smaller cavern about the size of a large bedroom.
Unlike the cavern above, which was irregular, this cave was perfectly round, ringed in on all sides by smoothly cut stone. Its ceiling was smooth, too, save for the hole that let in the spiral stair, but this cave had no floor. Instead, a pool of water filled the room to its edges, the liquid black in the dark, sinking down farther than Sparrow could see.
The spiral stair stopped just above the water, and at its base was a small, suspended platform held inches above the pool’s surface by the stair’s thick, central support. Below the platform, the water’s surface was still as glass. Stiller than anything in nature had a right to be, except for one part.
Sara was kneeling at the platform’s edge with her hands hovering just above the water’s surface. Beneath them, the water was bubbling, and the commotion showed off its true color, a deep, deep blue. Such a motion should have sent ripples through the entire pool, but the rest of the glassy water didn’t so much as wobble as Sara lifted her hands, bringing a small ball of water up with her. She cupped the water in her hands, moving it gently as a mother with a new baby to the hinge-lidded silver bucket sitting on the platform beside her.
She lowered her hands into the bucket’s wide mouth, letting the blue water fall before snatching her fingers back and closing the bucket’s lid as fast as she could. She snapped the latch shut and reached for a metal wire that hung from the stairs above. Threading the wire through the hooks on the bucket’s sides, Sara began to murmur commands. The wire obeyed, curling itself around the bucket before it began to rise into the dark, the thin wire curling in on itself to prevent any jostle from touching its precious cargo.
Sara watched the bucket rise until it vanished, and then she turned on her heel, fixing her glare on Sparrow.
He flashed her his best smile and sat down on the stairs.
Sara’s glare intensified, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she walked to the edge of the platform and reached out to pull a lever set into the stone wall. At once, the cavern’s silence was broken by the hushed scrape of metal as a protective sheet emerged from the walls. The metal slid into position like a thrusting knife, sliding under the platform to cover the pool with a protective shield. Only when the metal cap was safely in place and the water completely separated from the air above did Sara turn to face her servant.
“The Quieting Room is not a place to play, Sparrow,” she said, her voice cutting. “Are you even aware of how much damage you could cause?”
“I’m very well aware,” Sparrow said, resting his elbows on the stair above him. “You tell me every time. Of course, if you would stop hiding down here every time you got angry, I wouldn’t have to come after you.”
“I’m not angry,” Sara said, grabbing the ledger from its hook on the wall to record the water she’d just sent up. “Just disappointed.”
Sparrow shrugged. “Why? It wasn’t like you were expecting him to come running into your loving arms.”
“No, but I had hoped he would show a hint of interest,” Sara said, pencil scratching furiously. “I’d hoped that my son would have enough natural, inborn curiosity to at least listen with grace before saying no. Even the Lyonette girl showed some enthusiasm about learning the secrets of the world before turning me down. If he can’t exhibit more interest about magic’s inner workings than a closed-minded, hide-bound Spiritualist, I fear there’s no hope for him at all.”
“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Sparrow said. “There is always the chance Mr. Monpress is sentimental enough to let his abandonment issues stand in the way of his rightfully inherited curiosity.”
“Powers forbid,” Sara said, slapping the ledger back into place. “If I have to play mommy, this is going to be a very long week.”
“If that’s how you feel, why did you put them in the same cell?” Sparrow said. “Banage is only going to make things worse, you know. And then there’s the part where you’re leaving two of the most powerful wizards in the world alone together.” He shook his head with a tsk. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster on all fronts.”
“It was the best of a few bad options,” Sara said defensively. “I have only one cell capable of holding a wizard of Eliton or Etmon’s power.”
“And only one cell that Alber doesn’t know about,” Sparrow added. “Really, Sara, it was very unmotherly of you to lie to the boy like that, acting like Whitefall was already on board with your plan to fake an execution and hire the world’s most notorious thief.”
“It was necessary,” Sara said with a shrug. “I didn’t have time to get Alber’s permission. I’ll bring him around later, after I’ve got Eliton well in hand. Did you drop the hints like I told you?”
“I did,” Sparrow said. “He is fully informed that there will be no audience for his escape until at least tomorrow. But do you really think that will be enough to keep him in? Not to cast doubt on your skill as a jailor, but Eli Monpress has a reputation for being difficult to contain.”
“I’m well aware of my son’s prowess,” Sara said proudly. “Just as I am equally aware of his near pathological need for attention. Monpress will stay put until he’s sure his escape will draw the proper level of attention, and by that point I’ll have brought him around.”
“And what of Whitefall?” Sparrow asked.
Sara shrugged. “I’ve taken care of the witness. Alber can live in ignorance a little longer.”
Sparrow shook his head. “You can lock up soldiers all you like. Whitefall always finds out. The man is a hunting hawk when it comes to secrets in his castle, and he is not going to be happy you kept this from him.”
“What do I care about Alber’s happiness?” Sara said. “He can rage all day, but in the end, the truth is that he needs the Relay, which means he needs me, and I need Eliton. And it’s not like this secret is hurting him. I only need to keep Monpress’s capture quiet for a day, two at most, just enough for me to gather the proper leverage to make him accept my ridiculously generous offer.”
“I don’t know if any leverage will be enough,” Sparrow said. “He loathes you quiet openly.”
Sara shrugged. “He’ll come around. Eliton’s a thief at heart, and all thieves have their price. Fortunately, I have the feeling my leverage is about to improve dramatically. A little birdie told me that the Lyonette girl has been using her newfound power as Rector to investigate certain very large spirits.”
Sparrow nodded as expected, face neutral, but alarm bells were sounding in his mind. Knowing Sara, she’d probably gotten the information from an actual bird, and he wasn’t about to go chasing bird tips again. Never trust an animal with a brain the size of a walnut to make an accurate assessment.
“Word is that she’s calling down the West Wind itself,” Sara continued. “Considering the Spirit Court’s position—the Rector imprisoned for treason, its membership split, and a Spiritualist not three years out of her apprenticeship holding the reins—you’d think the girl would be focused on Court matters, not poking after spirits who’ve been stable for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. I want to know what emergency has upset her priorities.”
“Which means you want me to find out,” Sparrow finished.
“What else do I keep you for?” Sara said with a shrug.
