Sara’s cavern alone.
As they climbed down the metal stairs, Eli saw that Sparrow was dragging a little. His already uncharacteristic silence was punctuated with sharp gasps, as though breathing hurt him. The gasps only got worse when they reached the ground, and Eli decided it was time to pry.
“All right,” he said, slowing down. “I give in. What’s wrong?”
“You mean right now, or with this situation in general?” Sparrow said, his voice thin and strained.
“I mean why do you sound like you’re having a heart attack?” Eli said. “I can’t take pride in an escape if the only reason I got out was because my guard dropped dead.”
“Your compassion is touching,” Sparrow said, pushing Eli to make him go faster. “If you must know, your mother is rather angry with me at the moment.”
“And that’s making it hard for you to breathe?” Eli said, dragging his feet along the dark stone as best he could. “How does that work?”
“Terribly well, actually,” Sparrow said. “Here we are.”
He stopped them at the shiny door to the cistern prison Eli and Banage shared.
“Hands out, please,” Sparrow said. “Now hold still while I figure out what new knot those Council idiots invented this time.”
Eli shoved his hands back, waving them up and down to make the untying as difficult as possible. Meanwhile, he took the precious opportunity to study the lid to his cell from this side. His eyes, already adjusted to the dark from the walk, picked out the same interlocked concentric circles he’d seen inside. They were probably a pressure system, he realized. A kind of spring that helped the metal bounce itself open. Very clever, and very like a Shaper to use the metal’s natural tension to help it move.
His eyes traced the outer lip, sliding along the polished surface until, finally, he found the hint he was looking for. An intricate mark had been pressed deep into the upper circle, the maker’s seal of the lid’s Shaper. There was no time to study it, so Eli burned the image into his memory as Giuseppe had taught him, focusing only on seeing, not understanding.
Understanding takes time you do not have, the old thief’s voice droned in his mind. Focus only on the physical act of observation, Eliton, and save the understanding for later.
It had been one of the harder lessons of being a master thief, but Eli had learned it, and he used it now, memorizing every detail of the mark in the time it took to blink and then looking elsewhere before Sparrow could catch him staring.
“There,” Sparrow said, pulling the rope free. “Down you go.”
He raised his foot, slamming his heel down at the dead center of the door’s concentric circles. The metal boomed at the impact, and the door bounced up like a dog standing for a treat. When it was all the way up, Sparrow gave Eli a little push, and Eli, taking the hint, began to climb down.
“I want you to know it’s been a real pleasure,” Sparrow said, kneeling on the prison’s edge as Eli descended into the dark. “It’s not every day you see the famous Eli Monpress crawling down a hole like a rat. I very much doubt we’ll meet each other again, but I do hope you’ll remember our time together well enough to stay clear of me in the future. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, understand, but a man of my talents doesn’t relish the tornado of attention you seem to attract.”
“No worries,” Eli said. “If I have the slightest chance of avoiding you, I’ll be sure to take it.”
Sparrow laughed at this, a bright sound that cut off with a sharp, pained breath.
Eli looked up, half expecting to see Sparrow keeling over the pit, clutching his chest in pain as he fell. But the hateful man was still perched on the ledge like his namesake, smiling wide through clenched teeth.
“Good luck, Eliton,” he called. “And good-bye.”
Eli frowned in confusion, but before he could ask what Sparrow meant by that, the man stood and hit the door again. It dropped closed with a soft hiss, plunging Eli into a darkness so deep it felt like he was drowning. The feeling lasted less than a breath. The moment the door was fully closed, Banage’s small candlelight flickered to life.
“Nice trick,” Eli said, smiling at the dim, flickering light. “How’d you sneak that spirit past Sara?”
“It’s not my spirit,” Banage said. “Sara left me one candle when she first locked me down here. The wax is long gone, but I’ve been keeping the flame alive as best I can on my own energy.”
“Seems a little unorthodox,” Eli said, dropping to the ground.
Banage’s voice grew defensive. “It was a fair exchange. He would have gone out otherwise. I’ve promised to join him with my fire bird.” He lowered the flame. “Enough. What was that about?”
“I don’t know,” Eli lied, dusting off his now badly smudged white suit. “And I don’t think I care. I’ve had about enough of Council politics. What do you say we get out of here?”
“I think that’s the most sensible thing you’ve ever said.”
For the first time in a very, very long while, Eli gave his father a genuine smile. Banage gave a surprised jerk and then slowly smiled back. The situation was so unbelievable, Eli just shook his head as he dropped to a crouch and set his mind on the task at hand. It was time to try the new angle he’d thought of on his way down. Grinning, he felt along the wall until his fingers found the one spirit he and Banage hadn’t considered in their initial assessment.
The hole Sara had stuck them in hadn’t always been used for keeping pesky wizards locked up. Before it was a cistern prison, it had been an actual cistern, catching the water that gathered here at the lowest point in the cavern. But with a hole this deep, the stone couldn’t be counted on to keep itself up. It needed a brace, and in this particular case, that brace was a flat piece of metal the width of Eli’s palm that ran in a U shape up both sides of the prison and across the pit’s floor.
Eli seized on the metal like a child grabbing a present, running his fingers eagerly over the brace’s cold, rust-pitted surface. The metal was locked in deep, deep sleep against the silent stone. It didn’t stir at Eli’s prodding, not even when he knocked his knuckles over the rivets that held it to the stone. Undeterred, Eli sat down and reached out with both hands, softly thrumming his fingers up and down the metal, scratching the rust like he’d scratch an itchy spot on a dog’s back.
Minutes ticked by, but Eli didn’t stop. He just kept moving his fingers, whispering encouraging sounds laced with just enough power to draw the sleeping spirit’s attention. It was tiring work. The stone he sat on was hard and cold, and keeping his spirit cracked open a tiny fraction for such an extended period of time was like trying to hold a bucket of water at arm’s length without letting it drop. But Eli was a professional, and he didn’t let up until, finally, the metal twitched against his fingers.
Eli stopped his movements at once, holding his hands still in the air.
“What are you doing?” Banage whispered, his voice hoarse, as though he’d been holding the question back for a long time.
Eli put his finger to his lips. On the floor, the metal twitched again, and then a tiny, rusty voice whispered, “Well?”
“Well what?” Eli asked.
“Keep going,” the metal said, arching up a millimeter. “That felt nice.”
Eli winked at Banage, who was staring at him like he’d just turned into a ghosthound, and lowered his hands back to the metal. “Like this?”
“Yesssssss…” the metal hissed, vibrating under his scratching fingers.
“Hasn’t anyone been down to rub you?” Eli said, his voice thick with scornful astonishment. “Don’t they take care of you here?”
“No,” the metal said, wiggling. “That feels lovely.”
“They do this to metal upstairs all the time,” Eli said, intensifying his scratching. “Don’t they?”
This was directed at Banage, who, after several seconds of stunned hesitation, nodded. Eli rolled his eyes, and Banage quickly changed his answer from motion to verbal.
“Yes, of course they do,” he said in the most unconvincing lie Eli had ever heard.
He shook his head and made a note not to involve his father any further. Thankfully, the metal wasn’t familiar enough with humans to notice the bad acting.
“Really?” it said, its creaking voice tinged with jealousy. “Must be nice.”
“It’s more than nice,” Eli said. “I’d say it’s mandatory. Are you sure no one’s come down to rub you?”
“No,” the metal said sullenly.
