“This is her,” another voice said darkly. “Disgusting. Cuffs!”
“No, please!” Sandis cried, then gasped when her shoulders jerked back and cool metal clapped around her wrists. “I didn’t choose it, I swear! I didn’t—”
“I’d watch what I said, if I were you.” Her holders spun her around and brought her face-to-face with a man in his midfifties, short but wide. He had round gold buttons signifying rank across one shoulder. “You’ll just incriminate yourself further.”
Sandis shook her head, hot, wet trails running down her cheeks. “Please, you don’t understand—”
The officer grabbed her by the back of the neck and steered her toward the door. Her holders easily obliged. “Take her to Gerech. These ones are dealt with swiftly.”
“No!” Sandis screamed. She tried to throw her head back, to hit something, but her skull only collided with shoulders. She pushed her feet against the door frame, but the men holding her were too strong. They pushed her forward. Her ankle popped sharply, and her entire foot stung.
Two more uniformed men stood at the head of the stairs. They moved so unbelievably fast. She blinked, and she was on the second story.
“Rone!” she screamed, trying to wrench herself free. She couldn’t feel her hands or forearms—the policemen gripped her so tightly they’d cut off the flow of blood. “Rone! Someone! I didn’t choose it! I didn’t want to do any of it!”
First floor. So many scarlet bodies. A flash of sunlight met her eyes, and then she was plunged into a wooden box. The hands released her, and a heavy door swung shut. One, two, three locks clicked into pace.
Sandis spun around. Her bound hands threw off her balance, and she fell onto her side. Wood panels surrounded her except for a narrow slit in the door. Narrow, and barred with wrought iron. Iron reinforced the panels in long strips.
A prison wagon. Celestial, she was in a prison wagon.
Sandis threw herself at the door, barely feeling the impact. “Rone!” She pressed her face to the slit. “Rone!”
The wagon jerked forward, throwing her off balance once more. She hit her head on the wagon wall. A horse whinnied, a whip cracked, and the vehicle accelerated and turned, throwing her into the other wall.
Blinking tears from her eyes, Sandis pulled against her cuffs. The chains held tight. She tried to get her hands in front of her, but the wagon jolted and she lost her balance again. Her shoulders burned. Her heartbeat sped to a high-pitched buzz.
She was going to prison. To Gerech. They were going to kill her.
“No, no, no, no, no, no.” She righted herself on her knees and inched back toward the window. Leaned her head against the wood above it to keep herself upright. She couldn’t go to Gerech. She couldn’t die, not before she understood what Ireth wanted to tell her. Not before she stopped Kazen. Not before Rone— Where was Rone? Was he safe? Was he still at Gerech? Maybe he hadn’t yet used the amarinth . . .
The wagon turned again. Sandis’s muscles strained as she leaned opposite to it, managing to stay on her knees. She had to get out. Had to.
Falling onto her back, Sandis rammed her feet into the door once, twice, three times, fighting the dull ache in her ankle. She used all the strength she had. Shimmied to the side and aimed her strikes at the locks. If she could just break them— She pounded and pounded. The locks didn’t budge. The door didn’t offer so much as a splinter.
Her eyes stung—sweat? Pushing herself up again, Sandis scanned the walls around her—but of course they were secure. This was a prison wagon.
More tears blurred her vision. She crept back to the window. Anyone, anyone . . . Celestial, please— She knew this street. Peering through the slit in the door, she watched the shops speed by, watched the faces of the curious people who glanced her way. They didn’t know about Kazen, about Kolosos, and the Angelic had not heeded her warning. Would Rone spread the word? Would anyone protect them?
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. The wagon turned, growing closer to the Innerchord. Closer to Gerech. There was nothing she could . . .
Ireth.
The thought was so loud it drained out the turning wheels, the heavy steps of the horses, the sounds of the city.
Could she summon Ireth? He was a powerful numen. He could certainly break out of this wagon.
But the last time Sandis had summoned—half summoned—him, she’d passed out. She couldn’t run if she passed out. And if she ignited a prison wagon, she might as well light a beacon for any grafters, mobsmen, or policemen in the city. Kazen would find her for sure. How could he not? And what if there were innocent people crossing the street or passing the wagon? What if the flames caught them?
She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing sweat and tears from them. Opened them again. Searching the street passing under her. She tugged at her memory, making a map of Dresberg. Gerech . . . they’d turn soon, and— The canal.
They would pass over one of the city’s canals any minute now. This street bowed into a bridge to cross it. The water would put out the flames, and if the water’s current was strong enough, maybe it could sweep her away. Do the running for her. She could swim, a little. Her father had taught her before he died.
But if Sandis lost consciousness . . .
Anon had drowned in a canal. Had it been this one?
She gritted her teeth. There was no other choice. Ireth, the canal . . . or Gerech. Death. She had to risk it. She had no time.
She chose.
Dropping onto her back, Sandis wrestled with her handcuffs, trying to get her feet over the chains so she could have partial use of her hands. She strained her shoulder doing so—cried out—but she got one over, then the other. Her hands were in front of her.
Now the timing. She pressed herself against the door. Stared out the window. She had to say the words fast. They had almost reached the canal— Pressing her hand to her head, she sang, “Vre en nestu a carnath. Ii mem entre I amar. Vre en nestu a carnath.
“Ireth epsi gradenid!”
Flames like screams engulfed her.
They pierced like sharpened knives. She fell into the sun and kept falling, burning, wrenching apart— The metal of her handcuffs dripped bright and molten from her wrists. The wrought iron of the wagon whined like a dying horse—and then it blew apart, blasting her into the canal.
The water hit her like acid.
It sizzled around her ears, and quicker than a gasp, the flames were doused, extinguished. There was water and cold and no air, no air— Sandis’s head burst from the surface. She gasped, even as the current tried to drag her under. The canal spun around her. Darkness edged her vision.
Stay awake. Stay awake!
She submerged. Tried to kick with the current, but her legs were leaden weights. Her body barely felt like hers. The black crept into her eyes like bleeding capillaries.
Her hand hit the concrete wall of the canal. She pushed herself up. Broke the surface again. Gasped for air.
Somehow, she managed to roll onto her back. It made it easier to stay afloat, to breathe, though the cold water continued to splash onto her face. Trash hit her shoulder and stuck for a moment before breaking away. The sky was fragmented, made of sand. Her eyes rolled back— Water filled her nose and mouth. Sandis sputtered. Tried to swim. The current sucked at her heavy limbs. She hit the side of the canal, and the water pushed her up. Let her cough and gasp for a moment before dragging her down again.
This was how Anon died.
Her vision blinked black. She forced it to gray. Stay awake. Celestial, let me stay awake. Help me. Help me!
Her body slammed into metal grating.