chapter NINE
Emilie bolted through the forest, crashing through ferns, dodging past the slender green trunks. Instinct told her to run in a diagonal and not a straight line. Half-forgotten memories of hide-and-seek games with her brothers, back when they had been young enough to still want to play, came back to aid her. She stopped crashing through the brush, running more slowly but taking care not to make noise and leave obvious signs of her passage.
She made herself stop and listen, holding her breath and trying to hear past her pounding heart. Bodies smashed through the vegetation not far away, and she knew Rani would never have made that much noise. Grimacing, Emilie fled off to the right and ducked between the bushes. She had left her boots back in their supply bag, but the ground was covered with a spongy moss that was soft on her feet and made no sound when she stepped on it.
The forest was cloaked in deep green shadows, the air damp and thick with earthy scents. The soft birdcalls and the occasional darting insect seemed different from the dryer forest up on the island. This place is below the sea level, Emilie remembered. Maybe it was different, an artifact of the old Sealands Empire, like the flooded cities.
She stopped three more times, and the third time she couldn't hear any sound of pursuit. Breathing hard, she kept moving but slowed her pace to a walk. They must have captured Rani, she thought, sick. Because I abandoned her. They would have both been caught if she hadn't, but it still felt like cowardice. Smart cowardice, but still cowardice.
Emilie was sick of being compelled to abandon people. First Miss Marlende, then Rani. And your aunt and uncle, your brothers, and the rest of your family, a traitor voice whispered. That was different, she told herself desperately. That was a daring bid for freedom. But her family wouldn't see it that way, and now she might be trapped here and never able to send word to anyone. Her aunt and uncle would probably assume she had gone off to become a prostitute, but there were others - her oldest brother, Porcia and Mr. Herinbogel, Karthea, other friends - who would worry, who would think something terrible had happened to her.
And they might be right.
Emilie stopped, crouched down behind a tree, and gave way to tears. Once the first hard sobs were out, it was a relief, and she felt as if she could think more clearly. Still dripping tears, she licked her thumb and rubbed the surface of the compass. The arrow formed, pointing the way through the forest toward Dr. Marlende. If he was dead, would this still work, she wondered suddenly. Surely aether-navigators still worked, if the sorcerer who had made them died, otherwise they wouldn't be very practical. But maybe spells like this were different. She hoped so, because if the Nomads hadn't hurt any of their prisoners, maybe they wouldn't hurt Rani.
Emilie wiped her face on her sleeve, looped the compass' cord over her head, and took quick stock of her resources. The matches and the knife Rani had given her were still in her pockets, though the matches would have to dry out before she could use them. Other than that, she had nothing. Just herself. You can do this, she thought, still sniffling. Whatever you have to do, you can do it. You aren't Emilie, runaway girl from the country. You're Emilie, the adventuress. Now get on your feet and find Dr. Marlende. She stood up and followed the compass through the shadowy forest.
Emilie made her way through the trees and brush for perhaps two hours, though it was hard to judge the time. Water wasn't a problem - she had crossed three shallow clear streams cutting through the mossy floor - but she knew she was going to be pretty hungry by the time of the next eclipse. The texture of the moss kept her bare feet from getting too sore, but she was collecting an impressive array of bruises and scratches. She stopped at one point to climb a tree, finding handholds and footholds in the hard ridges that circled the trunk. It was a dauntingly tall tree, but she climbed just high enough to catch a glimpse of the airship's balloon through the heavy screen of palm leaves.
Her first indication that she was nearing her destination was when she stubbed her toes on a rock. Hopping and muttering curses she had heard the Sovereign's sailors use, she realized it was a line of paving stones, half-buried in the moss. I bet I'm close, she thought, stepping over the paving and moving more carefully. There must be an old Sealands city or fort or something down here, which the Nomads had taken over.
After a short time, the ground started to slope up, and she could see the trees and ferns thinned out ahead. She ducked down to creep close to the ground, and pressed on. As she got closer to the edge of the forest, she saw the ground dropped away into a bowl-shaped depression, and above it rose the silver-gray curve of the airship's balloon. Near it was a collection of conical white stone roofs. Emilie flattened herself down in the moss in the shadows under the last clump of ferns, and crept as close as she dared.
Now she had a better view. Down in the shallow valley was a small city, much bigger than it had looked from the top of the waterfall cliffs when it had been concealed by the trees and mist. There were round towers, each a few stories tall, and between them short squat single-story buildings of smooth white stone. Unlike those in the Queen's city, they were round with bulbous curving sides. The floor of the little valley was dotted with large pools, all perfectly circular. She could see the airship where it was anchored near this end of the valley, the cabin hanging level with the roof of the nearest round bulgy tower.
She could also see merpeople. Several moved purposefully out of one tower and toward another. There were three standing in front of the doorway of the tower nearest the airship, clearly on guard. All were armed with the short fishing spears. As she watched, another two merpeople surfaced in one of the pools, walking up the steps and out onto the mossy ground. The pools must be connected, to each other and maybe to the buildings. And maybe to the channel that circles the canyon? Emilie wasn't sure that would help her, if it was true. But there had to be a hidden harbor somewhere, where the Nomads kept their boats, and it would make sense if it was reached via underwater tunnels. She thought this place must be used as a fortress, rather than a permanent settlement; she didn't see any children, just adults.
She looked harder at the airship, trying to see if anyone was aboard it. Like Lord Ivers' ship, the cabin was tucked up below the oblong balloon, and ran more than half the length of it. Unlike his, the cabin looked like it was made of some light coppery metal, and had a narrow walkway with a single railing running all the way around. She didn't think it was large enough to have two decks. The oblong windows were larger, but she couldn't see anyone moving around inside. The compass pointed toward the airship, or at least toward that end of the compound.
A plank bridge ran from the flat roof of the tower up to the closed door of the airship. The prisoners could be inside there, Emilie thought.
There were no windows in the top of the tower, but there were big trees along the ridge of the valley; and the bottom of the cabin, and the metal catwalk, were just above their heavy branches. It looked like a possibility to Emilie. Maybe the only possibility. The plank bridge suggested that there must be a trap door in the roof to allow access to the airship. But surely that door would be guarded too. Maybe not, if the prisoners are locked up in rooms inside the tower, she thought.
Emilie settled back into the ferns to think about it, knowing this was no time to act rashly. And that she had a few hours left until the next eclipse, so she might as well spend it resting, spying, and trying to think of a less mad plan.
But by the time the eclipse fell, she was fairly certain a mad plan was the best way to go.
Sometime after darkness fell, Emilie crouched on the edge of the valley, in the stand of big trees that overhung the airship, impatiently waiting for someone to notice her distraction.
The Nomads had lit their encampment with lamps made from big curving shells, burning fish oil. The lamps lit the paths between the buildings and the pools, but the light didn't quite reach the airship, which was now just a big shape in the dark. While that would prove helpful, Emilie was afraid it was too dark to see her distraction.
Maybe I should just go ahead, she thought. She chewed her lower lip, considering it. The problem was, she wasn't sure she could do this at all, let alone do it in complete silence. But you can't just sit here, she thought in frustration. She couldn't come this close and stop.
Then below, a merperson came running from the opposite end of the compound, calling out to the others, pointing back over his shoulder. Emilie sat up, relieved. Finally.
Earlier, as the eclipse had been about to descend, she had crept around to the opposite end of the valley from the airship, and heaped up a big pile of dead brush and fallen palm fronds. The wood was green and damp, so setting it on fire had taken most of the Cirathi matches that Emilie had tucked into her pocket. But it had finally started to smolder and then burn.
She still couldn't see the smoke, but a moment later the breeze brought her the scent of it, which must have alerted the merpeople. Many of them ran toward that end of the compound, calling out to each other. Several dived into one of the pools, disappearing under the surface, presumably to carry the word or get reinforcements. The three men who were guarding the door of the tower moved away from the open doorway, facing down the valley, trying to see what was happening.
Emilie took a sharp breath; she had hoped they would leave, but had known that was a little much to expect. All right, here goes, she thought, and stood and turned to the tree she had picked out.
She started to climb, gritting her teeth as the ridges around the trunk dug into her fingers and toes. This tree was older and pointier than the one she had climbed earlier, but the trunk was also bigger around, giving her more room to climb. It was so dark she couldn't see her hands on the trunk, and the merpeople were all still occupied trying to decide if the fire meant an attack by the Queen's forces. But it was still a relief when she reached the shelter of the screen of drooping palm leaves.
Emilie was sweating by the time she reached the gentle bend where the trunk broke up into individual branches, extending in curves out toward the airship. She shook the sweat out of her eyes and peered ahead. So far, so good. The balloon and the cabin now blocked her view of the tower and the guards, but also their potential view of her.
She gripped the trunk with her legs and scooted awkwardly forward, out onto the highest branch. She climbed along it, closer and closer to the dark bulk of the airship. The branch was getting more slender, and Emilie winced when it creaked under her. She tried to tell herself it wasn't as bad as climbing out the prison window, but she wasn't so sure. Those ledges seemed quite wide and safe compared to this tree. She couldn't think what was worse, falling and dying or falling and breaking a leg or an arm or both, and being at the Nomads' mercy. Neither, she thought, please let it be neither.
She edged further and further forward, until finally the airship's catwalk was just above her. About five feet above her. Hell, it didn't look that far from across the valley. Emilie tried to ease up slowly, felt herself start to slip, and dropped back to grip the branch tightly. She held back a sob of terror. This won't work, she thought, feeling the branch sway beneath her. It had to work. She couldn't go back.
She looked up again. She couldn't do it slowly, so she would have to do it fast. She pushed herself up into a crouch without letting go with her hands. Then she braced herself, and shoved upright in one quick motion, making a wild grab.
Her right hand brushed metal, she gripped the slim post of a railing, just as her feet slipped off the branch. She hung for a moment, her arm straining, then found the edge of the catwalk with her other hand. She hauled herself up as far as she could, her heart pounding with the effort, then managed to pull a leg up and hook her foot onto a supporting strut for the catwalk. Pushing from there let her drag her weight up onto the metal walkway. She huddled for a moment, breathing hard, astonished to be still alive. That was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, Emilie thought, and scrubbed sweat off her forehead.
She eased to her feet, gripping the railing because her legs were still shaking. She felt the airship move slightly under her, pushed by the wind. She realized belatedly that it might have moved when she had been hanging off the railing, but it was far too big to tip or shudder with her weight. If the Nomads had noticed anything, they would think it was just the wind.
Emilie crept around the catwalk, stopping to peer into the darkened windows, but she couldn't make out anything inside. As she came around the bow of the cabin, she had a good view of the compound, while still being in the shadows above the reach of their lamps. There was still activity at the far end, toward where she had set the fire. She bet the darkness in the woods was helping her; the fire had been slowly smoldering rather than burning brightly. The Nomads were probably having trouble locating it. The three door guards were still looking off that way, and there weren't any other merpeople around, at least that she could see.
Keeping her steps as quiet as possible, Emilie moved along the catwalk down the airship's side, to the narrow plank bridge that led from it down to the round roof of the tower. Ha, I was right. There was a round opening in the roof, dimly illuminated by a light somewhere inside. It would have been disappointing, to say the least, to discover that there was no way inside the tower from here and that they had reached the airship with ladders up the outside or some other unusable method.
Emilie reached the catwalk and started across, moving slowly to keep the light wood from creaking. It was too dark to see the ground below her, and the bulk of the tower blocked her view of the guards.
She stepped down onto the smooth material of the roof, reflecting that the good thing about this stone was that it didn't creak. No one below would hear her moving around up here. She went to the opening and cautiously peered down.
All she could see at first was a white stone stairway with shallow steps, spiraling down the center of the tower. Emilie crouched on the edge and listened, but couldn't hear any movement or voices inside. She circled the opening, angling for a better view; she could see some bare floor in the room below, but that was all.
Nervously, Emilie leaned down far enough to get a good look, ready to dart away if the room was occupied. But it was just an empty room, at least from this angle. She stepped cautiously down the stairs, until she could see the rest of the room. It was empty, except for an old pile of ropes and nets in the corner. There was only one big room, too, no doorways.
She kept going down, and repeated this process at the next opening in the floor, which led down into the room below. It was empty except for a few clay storage jars, and a bowl-shaped lamp hanging from a ceiling hook, providing the wan light. All right, this isn't good, Emilie thought, moving quietly down the stairs. This place wasn't big to start with and she was running out of room to discover prisoners. What if those men outside are just guarding the airship, she thought. What if the prisoners are all locked up in another building nearby? She suppressed a groan, and checked the compass quickly.
The arrow now formed a circle. Emilie's brow furrowed. It wasn't doing that earlier. It looked like it meant for her to go down. All right, then.
Emilie went down to the next opening, the one that looked down into the ground level. She lay flat on the floor, angling her head so she could see toward the open doorway that looked out into the compound. She couldn't see the guards from here... No, wait, there's one, Emilie thought. She could just see his leg and part of his back, as he was facing away from the door. She leaned down a little further for a peek at the room, and grimaced in disappointment. It was empty, too, bare of anything except a round medallion on the floor, a few steps from the end of the stairway, on the furthest side from the outer door. Emilie blinked. A medallion with a handle, and a bolt. That had to be it. There's an underground room. And it's locked from the outside.
Emilie threw another look at what was visible of the guard, then ghosted silently down the stairs. At the bottom she stepped quickly to the trapdoor; the solid stairs blocked a little of the view from the doorway, but if anyone walked past... She knelt, slid the bolt back, and carefully pulled at the door. It lifted on slightly rusty metal hinges; it was heavy, and didn't creak.
Below was a stairwell with steps spiraling down, and a flickering lamp set into a niche. There was a door at the bottom, about twelve feet down, with light shining through it. Emilie swallowed in a dry throat, hesitating. There could be more guards down there, she could be trapping herself, this might be the stupidest thing she had done yet- Then she heard voices from somewhere outside, coming closer; she slipped down through the opening, carefully pulling the door down into place above her.
Emilie sank back against the cool wall, letting her breath out in a silent sigh. There wasn't anything to do now but go forward.
She went down the stairs to the doorway, and cautiously peeked around the edge. Yes! she thought. I was right!
It was a big lamplit room, much larger than the tower rooms above her. Stretched across a portion of it was a wall of metal bars, forming a jail cell, and on the other side, sleeping on worn blankets, were five Menaen men. They were all disheveled, dressed not in uniforms but in sturdy jackets and trousers meant for rough outdoor work. The cell was bare of necessities except for the blankets and a couple of covered jars that must serve as the water closet; it smelled like they had been imprisoned here for a while.
There was no guard, just another door on the far side of the room, and a pool of water across from the cell. Emilie tiptoed to the pool first, looking down into it to make sure there weren't any merpeople lurking there. The water was clear enough to tell the pool was empty, but there was a dark shape low on one side: an opening to some sort of water-filled underground passage. I bet this is connected to the pools in the compound, she thought, moving back to the cell. Which meant merpeople might appear in it any moment.
She went to the bars and, keeping her voice low, said, “Hey! Wake up! You're being rescued!”
One of the men flinched awake, then sat up and stared at her. He had dark weathered skin and dark hair peppered with gray. He demanded, “Are you a dream?”
“No, I'm Emilie.” She realized she must look somewhat disheveled herself, covered with scratches, her hair wild and probably ornamented with twigs and leaves, barefoot with stains and tears on her bloomers and shirt. Not very much like a rescuer, probably, but they would just have to settle for her. Impatiently, she added, “Miss Marlende sent me.” While not strictly true, it was close enough.
And it did the trick. The man scrambled to his feet, stooped to shake the others awake. “Come on, boys, we're getting out of here.”
Emilie hoped they were getting out of here; she had just realized that the cell didn't seem to have a door. She tried to shake the bars, but they didn't budge. “How does this thing open?”
The older man pointed across the room behind her. “There. That lever. It cranks the whole thing down into the floor.”
It was on the far side of the room, a metal lever sticking out of a slot in the wall. Emilie hurried over and grabbed it, and tried to push it down. “Oof.” It was stiff, and she leaned on it with her full weight. The lever moved slowly, all the way down, but when she glanced at the bars, she saw they had only lowered a few inches. Oh, come on, she thought in exasperation.
“Let it come back up and then push it down again, like a pump,” the older man told her. To the others, he said, “Here, grab onto the bars and put your weight on them when she pushes the lever down.”
“Right.” Emilie let the lever come up to its original position, then forced it down again. With the men adding their weight to the bars, it was much easier, and got them nearly a foot of clearance. “You're not Dr. Marlende, are you?” she asked the older man. There wasn't any resemblance between him and Miss Marlende, and despite his gray hair, she didn't think he was quite old enough. The other four men were all too young. Three were Southern Menaen, one Northern, all very scruffy. Though now that she had a chance to look at them, they all seemed more the scholarly type, once you saw past the dirt, lack of shaving, and rough clothing.
The older man said, “No, I'm Charter, his engineer. We haven't seen Dr. Marlende for two days.” He nodded to the other men. “That's Daniel, Seth, Cobbier, and Mikel.”
“It's nice to meet you,” Emilie said, gritting her teeth as she forced the bar down again. “Do you know where the Cirathi are?”
“We haven't seen them since we got here,” Daniel said, hauling down on the bars again. He was clearly the youngest Southern Menaen, maybe only a few years older than Emilie. He had handsome features, rather unkempt curly hair, and cracked spectacles. “We think they're locked up down here somewhere, though. We keep asking about them, but the Nomads won't tell us anything.”
That was going to be a problem. “Have you seen Rani? She was with me, she gave me Dr. Marlende's compass, but she was captured when we got here yesterday.”
There were startled exclamations from the men. “We didn't know she was alive,” Charter said. “We haven't seen her since she escaped from the ship. She's here?”
Damn it! Emilie thought, and threw her weight down on the lever again. “Yes, I think so, but I don't know where.” Hopefully the merpeople were keeping her with the other Cirathi.
With the next effort they managed to get the bars down far enough that the men could fit through the gap between the ceiling and the top rail. As they were climbing over the bars, Emilie checked the compass again. It pointed toward the far wall, where the door was. She hurried over to it. “The compass says Dr. Marlende is this way.” Hopefully he was with Rani and the rest of the Cirathi crew. She cautiously tugged on the metal loop that functioned as a door handle. The door didn't budge, and the lock appeared to be a hole under the handle that clearly needed some sort of key. Emilie poked at the little opening. “Do you know where the key is for this?”
Charter reached her side. “Where are the others? Who else is with you?”
Emilie set her jaw, prepared for an argument. “There aren't any others. There's just me.”
Charter and Daniel exchanged a baffled look. The other men looked dubious. Cobbier said, “What do you mean, 'no others?'“
“Isn't this a rescue mission?” Daniel added.
Impatiently, Emilie explained, “We came on Lord Engal's ship, me and Miss Marlende and Kenar. But we ran into the Queen of the Sealands and she's forcing Lord Engal and everyone to help her attack these Nomads. Miss Marlende was captured by Lord Ivers, and is aboard his airship somewhere. Rani and I were coming to free you, but she was captured this morning.”
Everyone stared. “Lord Ivers is here and has Miss Marlende? We didn't even know he had a working aetheric engine,” Seth said, astonished.
“Yes, he does.” Emilie finished, “So you'd better stop worrying about my qualifications as a rescuer and get on with finding the others before we all get captured again.”
Daniel looked mulish, but Charter held up a placating hand, stepping forward to examine the door. He said, “I take your point, Emilie. We can't go out the way you got in?”
Mollified, but still wary, Emilie said, “Not easily. I set a fire as a distraction, so I could get past the guards at the outside doorway, but it might be out by now.”
“But is our airship still out there, moored to the top of this tower?” Daniel asked. “Can we get to it?”
“Yes.” It belatedly occurred to Emilie that securing the airship might be a good idea. She had been so fixed on the goal of finding Rani and Dr. Marlende, she hadn't even thought about it. “If you're very, very quiet. The guards were maybe a few steps from the outside doorway.”
“We can get past them.” Charter nodded grimly. “I'll go after Marlende and the others, the rest of you get aboard that airship. Lay low for now, but don't let the ship be recaptured.”
“Cobbier can get the others past the guards. I'll go with you,” Daniel said, looking mulish again.
“And me,” Emilie added. “I have to find Rani.”
“You should go back to the ship,” Daniel told her, his tone bearing an unfortunate resemblance to the way Emilie's brothers spoke to her.
Seth and Cobbier and Mikel were all protesting to Charter that they should stay together, and Emilie knew there wasn't time to argue. She said to Daniel, “You mistake me for someone you have the right to order around.”
He looked taken aback, and Charter cut off all the argument with a sharp gesture, saying, “There's no time for this. Now go!”
Reluctantly, the other men went toward the doorway to the stairs, and Charter knelt to peer into the lock, ignoring the fact that Emilie and Daniel had both remained behind. Charter asked, “Have you got a pocket knife?”
“Yes, here.” Emilie fished in her pocket and handed over the little knife Rani had given her.
As Charter used the blade to probe the inside of the locking mechanism, Daniel said, “It had been so long, we thought Jerom and Kenar didn't make it back to the surface.”
Emilie groaned inwardly. Being the one to have to deliver the bad news was not pleasant, and this was the second time she had had to do it. “Jerom didn't make it. Kenar said the trip was much worse than they thought it was going to be. I'm sorry.”
Daniel took a sharp breath. “Oh.” He shook his head. “I knew I should have gone.”
Still occupied with the lock, Charter said, “Jerom was a stronger sorcerer. He had to be the one to go.”
“Are you a sorcerer?” Emilie asked Daniel.
He frowned at her, as if the question was too personal. “I'm studying to be one.”
Though she should be feeling sorry for him, something about his attitude made Emilie say, not quite innocently, “But you couldn't do anything like get the cell door open?”
Charter snorted, and Daniel frowned even more. “It's not quite that simple-”
“Quiet,” Charter muttered, still working the lock. “I'm about to open it.”
They went quiet. Emilie held her breath, hoping this wasn't the end of their escape. If there were guards in the next room, there was little they could do without weapons. The other men must have gotten up to the trapdoor by this point, and she didn't hear any sounds of fighting or alarm, so that was encouraging.
The door made a dull clunk as the lock snapped open, and Charter winced. So much for stealth, Emilie thought. Charter eased the door open a crack and peered through, then pushed it open and got to his feet.
Daniel stepped forward into Emilie's way, but she managed to stretch to see around him. The door opened into a shadowy corridor, with a curving roof and walls of rough light-colored rock, the air dank and cool. There were no merpeople, but it couldn't be entirely deserted: a flickering lamp hung from a peg on the wall.
Charter stepped through into the corridor, Daniel managing to get in ahead of Emilie. She tugged the door closed behind them; it might slow pursuit, but only for a few moments. The merpeople had to know their captives couldn't escape through the pool's underwater passage. “What is this place?” Emilie asked as they went down the corridor. “The Nomads don't live here, surely?”
“No, they use it as a stronghold,” Daniel said. “It was some sort of sacred place for the old Sealands Empire. It's so old, I don't think they're sure what it was for anymore.”
The corridor opened into a foyer with another pool of water. Three more shadowy corridors led away from it. The whole area under the compound must be honeycombed with tunnels, with a system of water passages below it, and one above, connecting the surface pools. Emilie quickly checked the compass again.
The arrow pointed to the corridor to the left. Emilie nodded to it, whispering, “That one.”
Charter took a step toward it. Just then a merman surfaced in the pool, heaving himself half out onto the stone floor. For an instant they all froze, and he looked just as startled as they were. Then he started to push back from the edge. Charter lunged forward, punching him in the head. The merman fell backward but two more surfaced, and Charter yelled, “Run!”
Emilie ran, taking the corridor the compass had indicated before considering whether it was a good idea or not. It was a long corridor, with several guttering lamps hanging on the wall. She heard Daniel shouting behind her and slowed, looking back. Then he and Charter came pounding after her and she hurried on.
They caught up to her as she reached another open foyer, but this one had only one other way out, a narrow spiral stair up to a silvery metal trapdoor in the ceiling. The merpeople had to be right behind them and it was the only way out. Emilie started toward it, but Charter grabbed her arm and whispered, “Wait, don't move!”
Daniel stood at the open passageway, holding up a hand as if pressing against an invisible door. He was whispering quietly to himself. Emilie stared, and then realized: he's doing a spell. She hoped he was more useful as a sorcerer than previous circumstances would seem to indicate.
Daniel took a sharp breath and stepped back from the doorway. A moment later four mermen arrived, sliding to an abrupt halt. Daniel was frozen in place, and Charter squeezed Emilie's arm, reminding her to be still.
The mermen stared through the doorway, obviously puzzled. As they looked around, their eyes seemed to slide past Daniel, Charter, and Emilie without focusing on them. They see an empty room, she thought, holding her breath. And it hadn't seemed to occur to them to step past the doorway and investigate further.
Tension stretched Emilie's nerves almost to the point where she felt compelled to make a sound, but finally the mermen turned away. They started back down the passage, talking agitatedly among themselves. As their voices faded, Daniel's shoulders slumped in relief, and Charter relaxed a little. Emilie let herself breathe again, feeling her pulse pounding in her ears. “It's a charm,” Charter explained, keeping his voice low. “It makes people think they can't see you. But they can still hear you, and feel you.”
“You couldn't use it from inside the cell?” Emilie asked. “To make them think you escaped?” Though that wouldn't do much good, unless the merpeople were incautious enough to lower the bars.
Daniel wiped sweat off his forehead. “It doesn't work if they know you're there. That's why we had to get to another room - we had to be just far enough ahead of them that they would be able to tell themselves that they'd mistaken the passage we took.”
Emilie made a mental note that Daniel was a little more useful than he had seemed at first. And that explained why they had been so certain that Cobbier could get the other three crewmembers past the guards outside the tower; he must be an apprentice sorcerer too. She checked the compass again, and was momentarily puzzled when the arrow made a circle. “Oh.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I think we're close.”
Charter stepped past her and started up the stairs. Emilie and Daniel waited below as he cautiously pushed the trapdoor open just enough to get a view of the next room. After a moment, he opened it all the way and motioned for them to follow him.
Emilie hurried up the stairs. The room was bigger than the foyer below, and better lit, with a larger stairwell spiraling up to the next floor, and a closed door. “I think we're on the surface,” Emilie whispered. The air in this room was fresher, laced with the green scent of the forest. She checked the compass again. “It's still pointing up.”
Daniel went to the door and listened at it. He shook his head. “Can't hear anything.”
Charter grimaced, looking up the stairwell. He muttered, “This place is too quiet.” But he added to Daniel, “You stay here, we'll go up.”
Daniel nodded, and Charter and Emilie started up the stairs. She knew what Charter meant; the merpeople had seen them now and there should be more commotion outside as they searched for them. They reached the next floor, where a wide foyer held a single closed door.
Emilie hurried over to listen at it. She heard voices, and thought: Uh oh. But they didn't sound like merpeople; the voices were too deep. Wait, there is something familiar about... “I think it's the Cirathi!” she whispered to Charter.
He tugged cautiously on the handle. The door didn't budge, and he crouched to peer into the opening for the lock, taking out Emilie's knife. “We don't know if they're alone in there,” he said, keeping his voice low. “There might be guards inside.”
“We could knock and ask,” Emilie murmured. Then it occurred to her he might think she was silly enough to be serious.
But Charter just gave her an ironic smile and started to tinker with the lock. Then a bang and a muffled yell from the room below made Emilie flinch. Charter shoved to his feet, cursing, but half a dozen merpeople were charging up the stairwell. Emilie ducked back against the wall with a yelp, suddenly confronted with a forest of sharp spear points.