enough force to puncture the iron wall. Water sprang through the hole, shooting out in a torrent of brilliant color.
For several moments, Sara could only watch in horror. Even under the fire bird’s orange light, the water on the floor was bluer than blue, a pure azure shining with its own light, the light she had nurtured, the light that was now dying out as the water mixed with the dust and grime. It flowed down the slight slope toward the center of the cavern, toward… Sara’s eyes shot up and froze, caught on the twisted, blown-out ruin of what had been her office. The large tank was almost unrecognizable, the metal plates yanked apart by enormous force to reveal the stairwell that led to the water below, her water.
Sara’s chest began to ache, and she suddenly realized she hadn’t taken a breath for nearly thirty seconds. She gulped in the air as she looked frantically around the cavern, her gaze sliding past the spirits, past her own useless wizards, to lock on the man responsible. The second she had enough air, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Etmon!”
The tall wizard standing on the suspended walkway turned. Even from this distance, she could see the look of triumph on his face.
“Your husband certainly can make a mess,” Sparrow said, peering over the railing.
“Shut up,” Sara spat, tearing off her coat. “I’ll handle Etmon. You find Eli.”
“Find Eli Monpress?” Sparrow cried. “In this chaos?”
“Do it!” Sara roared, shoving her coat at him.
She didn’t even wait for him to nod. She just spat out her pipe and hopped up on the railing, ignoring the protests of her aging knees. As soon as she was up, she fell forward, plummeting toward the water as she gripped the large, polished quartz on the ring of jewels hanging from her belt.
The moment her fingers touched it, the wind sprang forth. It caught her like a falling feather, blowing her up just before she hit the intact tanks below. Sara held out her arms, balancing as the wind set her down on the suspended walkway a dozen feet from Banage. She gripped the handrail to steady herself, the wind returning to its crystal as she raised her head to met Banage’s haughty gaze with a look of pure, molten rage.
“I told you it would all come to light, Sara,” he said solemnly. “It always does. Sooner or later—”
A blast of wind knocked him off the walkway midword.
Banage fell like a stone for several feet before a tangle of branches caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. Sara pulled her wind back, binding it around her body as she sent a spike of power to the largest of her red jewels. The temperature began to rise as the wind swirling around her filled with embers, wreathing her in red light. The wind spun faster and faster, blowing the fire inside hotter and hotter. When it was as hot as she could stand, Sara jumped the railing again, sailing down through the air after Banage. Another tank toppled as she fell, spilling its blue, blue water without so much as a cry.
Behind her, forgotten, Sara’s wizards were fleeing into the citadel. They crammed the stairwell in their panic, rushing toward the safety of the Council. And though they ran right by them, none of the fleeing wizards noticed the two coats abandoned on the railing, one plain and white like theirs, the other a gold-embroidered tapestry of turquoise, their sleeves fluttering in the hot, dry wind.
Eli Monpress was severely disappointed by the security at Whitefall Citadel. He’d expected to have to do some serious legwork, maybe even a little climbing, but in the end he’d been able to walk right out through a side door. Of course, the guards were a little preoccupied by the fit Banage was throwing in the cellar, but still, disappointing. Didn’t anyone make a proper citadel anymore?
To be fair, the guardhouse would have been harrier if he hadn’t managed to nick a fine military overcoat, complete with medals, from the coat check. As it was, he’d had no problems. With all that authority on his chest, the soldiers had opened the gate without a second glance, letting Eli Monpress stroll leisurely into freedom.
It was far too fine a day for heavy clothing, so he ditched the military coat as soon as the citadel gate was out of sight and snatched a nice, broad farmer’s hat from a tragically unattended shop front. He ditched Benehime’s white coat as well, stripping down to his shirtsleeves in the alley between two buildings.
He put his back to the wall and ran his shirt along it, staining the fine, white fabric with grime. His hands, already filthy from climbing around in the cistern, he wiped across his shirtfront until it was hopelessly smudged. When he’d stained himself to his satisfaction, he rolled up his sleeves and kicked off his white boots, letting his pants, which were already acceptably dingy from his imprisonment, hang down over his bare feet.
Eli smiled at his efforts and slapped the straw hat on his head. Then, dirty and barefoot with his head down beneath the broad brim of his hat, he turned onto one of Zarin’s busiest streets. Though his smiling face was plastered across nearly every wall, Eli walked through the crowd without causing a ripple, just another poor, dirty farmer, passing right under people’s notice. If the snobbery hadn’t been so advantageous, Eli might have been insulted.
He made it as far as the wharf without a hitch, but then his plans stumbled. Something must have happened while he’d been in prison, because the roads down to the river were a chaos of soldiers and soggy, bedraggled boat workers. A few seconds of listening told Eli that the river had flooded, which, considering there had been no major rains lately, he found very surprising. Still, the river district was clearly out of the running, so Eli slipped away from the crowd between the buildings and started up toward the workman’s quarter high on the city’s northern ridge.
The farther he went from the Citadel, the smaller and rougher the buildings became. Carriages were fewer and more storefronts were open instead of glassed. When he finally reached what he judged as the right part of the wrong side of town, Eli slowed down and started looking in earnest. He walked in a weaving pattern, studying and dismissing several taverns before he found the one that was just the right sort of seedy. Ducking under the faded sign, he pushed open the swinging door and slipped inside without a sound.
The place was dead. This close to dinner time, even drunks were home with their families. The lone barman didn’t even look up as Eli walked through the empty taproom toward the darkest, farthest corner table tucked away between the fireplace and ale casks where two familiar figures sat playing cards.
“Took you long enough,” Josef said as Eli took the empty chair with its back toward the room. “Nice hat.”
“Thank you,” Eli said, motioning for Nico to deal him in. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“We just got here,” Josef said. “Oserans are tenacious bastards, took us forever to shake them.”
“I have to admit I was a little worried you wouldn’t show,” Eli said, picking up each Daggerback card as Nico dealt it. “After that display in Whitefall’s office, I almost believed kingship really had lured you in. If I’d known you could act like that, I would have worked out more two-man cons.”
“Who said I was acting?” Josef grumbled. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to trade my people’s money for a thief, and I promised my mother I’d take care of Osera.”
“So what are you doing here, then?” Eli said, frowning at his hand.
Josef leaned back, fanning out his cards while his free hand fiddled with the collar of his expensive coat. To a causal observer, he probably looked like a roughneck on a lucky streak. Certainly not the king of a Council Kingdom. “I think five hundred thousand gold standards is more than enough care for any country,” he said slowly. “It’s no secret I’m a pretty terrible king, so I figured now that money’s not an issue I should just get out of the way and let the people who want to rule have a go.”
“Very prudent,” Eli said. “I mean, it’s painfully obvious you don’t know anything about the niceties of politics.”
“I thought we did pretty well,” Josef said with a shrug.
Eli gave him a flat look. “You brought a severed head to a meeting with the Merchant Prince of Zarin.”
“What other proof am I supposed to bring?” Josef said. “His body was too big to haul around.”
Nico covered her mouth in a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Eli just rolled his eyes.
“Now that that’s settled,” Josef said, “where to?”
Eli scowled, suddenly serious. He’d been thinking about that question ever since he got out of the Citadel, and no matter how many angles he tried, there seemed to be only one answer he could live with. “The Shaper Mountain,” he said at last. “Karon is missing.”
Nico looked up. “Your lava spirit?”
Eli nodded. “Benehime took him away for helping me, but the Shaper Mountain will know where he is. Lava spirits are as much rock as fire, so they fall under the Mountain’s star as well as the great Lava River that minds all
