Verci struggled for breath as he tried to push the dead man off of him. Someone walked over and pushed the man off, and then offered a hand to pull Verci to his feet.
“Looked like you could use a constable,” Inspector Rainey said. “Good thing I was around.”
“Asti, you’ve got to fight it, whatever it is, you can’t let it beat you.”
Bound in the mage shackles, all Veranix could do was scramble back to the wall as Rynax approached, wicked blade in hand, with a grin to match, as Dayne left the room with Crenaxin.
Whatever Crenaxin had done, it had burned at his brain, but couldn’t find a way in. The same couldn’t be said for Asti and Dayne.
Asti pounced on him, knife high. He leaned in and whispered.
“Scream, kid, they didn’t shut the door.” Veranix looked up at Asti, and he winked at him.
Saints almighty, the bastard winked.
“You’re all right?”
“Scream!” Asti shouted.
Veranix obliged, giving his best bloodcurdling, knife-in-his-belly scream, better than any of the Cantarell Square Players.
“Nice,” Asti whispered. “Let’s get this damn thing off you.” He started to work the knife into the lock of the mage shackles.
“How?” Veranix asked.
“Keep screaming.”
Veranix did as instructed while Asti worked.
“I don’t know. He did that business, and part of my head, it was all in. Ready to follow him and praise the Brotherhood. But that part . . . it was already broken off. Everything in my head is broken.”
Veranix nodded. “Whatever the blazes he did, it couldn’t make purchase on my mage brain, or your broken one.”
“But that Tarian friend of yours is another story.”
“Unless he’s faking, like you were.”
“Doubt it,” Asti said. He twisted a catch in the shackles, and they popped open. Veranix was more than happy to get them off. He felt completely drained. He needed to eat, rest, anything. But it didn’t look like there would be much chance for either. Asti hung the shackles on his belt and checked the rest of the room. “Look, we know these people have kidnapped children, using them in that machine. Delmin said it was swirling with magic.”
“Where is he?” Veranix asked.
“Hopefully he got out. Though he was . . .” Asti trailed off as he went to peek out the door.
“Was what?”
“Extremely tiny?” He held his fingers an inch apart.
That was surprising. “How?”
“I think he was trying to fly and something went wrong. Anyway, with any luck, he’s going to bring Verci and whatever help Verci can muster. I say we find our gear, get ourselves in position, and wait for that.”
“We may not have much time,” Veranix said. He was running over all the things Crenaxin had said. “They were talking about only a few hours. The day wakes in the sword, all that.”
“What was that nonsense about?” Asti asked.
“Astronomy, I think. Taking a course on it right now. Today the white moon—which is a crescent—and three of the planets are visible just before sunrise. I was supposed to be at class, actually, to observe that. And the constellation those, and the sun, are all in is—”
“Lexin, the Sword,” Asti said. “Is that real magic stuff, or just bunk?”
Veranix shrugged. “I can tell you that the position of the moons definitely can have an effect on the power of magic. I wouldn’t discount it.”
“So waiting for a rescue plan from Verci is not going to work.” He swore under his breath. “All right, those kids are part of their plan, so let’s make it ours. We find our gear, get those kids, and get them the blazes out of here?”
“And Welling and Dayne? And those two prisoners in the machine?”
“I don’t know if we can do anything for them.”
Veranix didn’t like that answer at all, but he understood it. “First step is our gear?” He wasn’t very good at sensing magic, but his connection to the rope and the cloak was far more attuned than most other forms of numinic activity. “I think I can get us to it.”
“First step is blending in,” Asti said. “Two zealots in robes down the hallway. Give me a really good scream.”
Veranix let out a gut-wrenching scream of horror and terror.
Asti winked and poked his head out of the door. “Brothers, could you assist me? My task would be easier with you holding him down.”
Asti gave Veranix the nod, and Veranix moved to the side of the doorway, building up a charge of numina in his body. The two zealots came into the room.
“So where—” was all one got out before Asti pounced on him, hand over his mouth. In a flash, he sliced open his throat with that wicked knife.
Veranix channeled the magic into speed, and dashed at the other zealot, landing three punches before the man had even turned around. The zealot managed to draw his knife, but at Veranix’s speed, he was able to grab his wrist and disarm him.
Then Asti was there, jamming his knife into the man’s neck.
“Saints, Thorn, kill them, don’t dance with them.”
“Sorry,” Veranix said. “I thought I was doing fine.”
“If by fine, you mean taking too long, sure.” He stripped the bodies of their robes and threw one to Veranix.
“This is the bloodier one, isn’t it?” Veranix asked.
“Probably,” Asti said, putting on the other one. “Take his knife in case we have another fight before we get to our stuff.”
“I’m not much of a knife fighter,” Veranix said, taking the weapon.
“It’s the most basic weapon there is,” Asti said, glancing out the door again. “I mean, you’ve got a bow, and the staff, and that rope . . . honestly, it’s like you’re trying too hard.”
Before Veranix could respond, Asti went out in the hallway. Veranix followed after him, swearing to himself that he would stop falling into these sorts of partnerships.
“That rope is why we’re going to find our stuff,” Veranix said as he caught up. “It’s that way.”
He followed the sense of the rope out of the hallway to a huge, open, underground
