“It has to be physically possible. If it’s something continuous like this or walking through a minefield, it works best if I hold the object I’m betting on. If it’s a bet on other people, it works about a third of the time, and I don’t have to hold anything.”
Her eyes gained a sly glint. “So did you bet I would marry you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because it wouldn’t have been real. “Didn’t need it.”
“You are an arrogant ass.”
He grinned. “You love it.”
Above them, the keep tower loomed. Shaped like a huge rectangle, the top of the tower had no roof. A textured parapet—a low stone wall interrupted by rectangular slits through which castle defenders would fire arrows at the attackers—encircled the tower’s top, protruding about a foot out over the main tower wall, like the rail of a balcony. Once they crawled over it, they would be out in the open, plainly visible to anyone who was at the top of the tower.
“Are there guards up there?” Audrey whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“I always have a plan,” he told her.
“Would you mind letting me in on it?”
“We create a diversion, you open all the doors, we swap the replica for the real bracelets, escape unharmed, and have hot sex.”
“Good plan.”
They reached the parapet protruding at the top of the tower. Below them, the keep wall plunged way down, to the cliff and certain death.
George’s bird landed on Kaldar’s shoulder, opened its beak, closed it, opened it again. One, two, three, four, five.
Kaldar held up his hand to Audrey. Five guards.
Audrey nodded.
He mouthed, “Wait here.”
She nodded again.
Kaldar crawled sideways, moving crab-like along the wall, just under the archer slits of the parapet. If anyone looked over the wall and down, his goose would be cooked. You wanted this excitement, he reminded himself. You wanted to fight the Hand. You volunteered, and you’re living your dream.
He kept moving along the wall until he was almost sixty yards away from Audrey. He barely saw her, a dark spot clinging to the wall to his left. Far enough.
Kaldar sank his right claw into the parapet and pulled himself up. For a torturous moment his legs hung above the sheer drop without any purchase, then his claws caught the wall again. Kaldar carefully raised himself high enough to glance through the closest archer gap.
The top of the tower was flat. In the center of the flat roof squatted a wide, rectangular, stone structure, its entrance guarded by a massive door. Hello, Morell’s vault. Two veeking warriors stood guard by the door. To the left, a Texas sharpshooter slumped against the wall, half-asleep, his feathered hat edged over his eyes, a grass stalk in his teeth. To the right, at the end of the roof, another veeking and a sharpshooter played cards.
Kaldar pulled the cord of his backpack and slipped his hand inside. His fingers brushed a metal carapace. He pulled it out. The spy spider, one of the Mirror’s better-known gadgets. Slightly larger than a dinner plate, the spider rested inert, its eight segmented legs securely clutched to its metal thorax. He slid the panel on its back open and turned the timer dial to five minutes and set the mode to rapid surveillance. The spider’s gears whirred softly. Kaldar slid the panel closed and positioned the spider on the edge of the parapet. The second spider followed, but this time he set the delay to an hour and fastened the spider to the wall, just below the parapet. It would be invisible from above.
Kaldar crawled left, moving until he was hanging above Audrey, and motioned up. She climbed next to him. They waited at the edge of the parapet, peeking through the archer gaps.
Kaldar raised a small spyglass to his left eye.
The first spider stirred. Long, segmented legs shivered. It crawled over the parapet, slowly, one metal leg after the other.
One moment, the sharpshooter was asleep, the next a gun barked in his hand. The bullet hit the spider’s carapace in a flash of pale green—the spider’s flash shield. The spy unit snapped into evade mode and dashed across the balcony, zigzagging wildly. The sharpshooter fired again, swore, and chased after the spider. A moment later, the two veekings took off after him.
Kaldar heaved himself over the parapet, pulled Audrey up, and they dashed to the door and pressed against it. Green magic slid from Audrey’s hands and sank into the door. She bit her lip.
Excited shouts came from the other end of the balcony.
“Hurry, love,” he whispered.
“The lock’s heavy,” she ground out. Sweat broke on her forehead.
The sounds of footsteps and muffled conversation carried to them. The veekings were returning. The door clicked open. Audrey slipped inside. Kaldar ran in after her, shut the door—three locks; no wonder it took her a second—and locked it from the inside. They pressed against the door, barely breathing.
Nothing.
No heavy breathing, no testing of the locks, nothing. They were in.
In front of them, a short hallway led to a large vault door. Kaldar tapped the bird and pointed toward the vault. The bird took off to scout the way, then returned to perch on his arm.
It didn’t seem alarmed. If he worked with George again, they would have to establish some sort of signal system. Wings open—the way is clear. Wings closed—run for your life. Or something like that.
They started down the corridor. The vault lay at the very end, a huge round door, thick and heavy. Audrey knelt by it. “Five locks. This is the most I’ve ever seen. This will take time.”
He sat by her. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No. The more I can do by hand, the easier it is. Lifting a two-inch tumbler by magic is like trying to carry a hundred-pound rock.” Audrey extracted a leather bundle from her pack and opened it. Thin metal lock-picking tools lay inside. The tools and the bundle looked suspiciously familiar.
Kaldar peered at the tools. “Where did you get this?”
“In your bags. You’ve been holding out.”
Heh.
“They are mine now.” She stuck the tip of her tongue out at him. “Stealers, keepers.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out her hair band with a pale metal flower on it.