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by Sarah Prineas

  Sootle lifted the knapsack from under his chair and pulled out one of the rag-wrapped packages. “Here it is, sir,” he said, setting it on the table.

  “Ah.” Crowe unwrapped the package. The tourmalifine cage with Periwinkle’s locus magicalicus in it. The wires of the cage glinted silvery green in the room’s dim light. “Very good,” Crowe said, handing the cage to Nimble, who stowed it in a pocket of his wizard’s robe. Crowe glanced at the minions at the door and nodded. Then Crowe turned away from the table and said something to Sootle in a low voice. Sootle nodded.

  I edged deeper into the shadows by the hearth. Pip-cat crouched on my shoulder as if it was ready to leap on somebody. I kept my head down. My breath came fast and my hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists to make them stop.

  Crowe’s footsteps sounded loud in the quiet room. They came around the table. Step, step, step.

  Keep going. Walk past me, just walk past.

  The footsteps stopped in front of me. Black leather shoes, black trousers. A hand reached out, grabbed my arm, and jerked me to my feet, and then I felt his cold fingers under my chin, lifting my head so he could see my face. His pale eyes looked me up and down. His minions loomed up behind him.

  “It is a good disguise, Connwaer,” Crowe said in his cold, flat voice. “But as you grow up you look more and more like your mother.” He smudged his thumb across my cheek. “And the soot can’t hide that from me.”

  I stepped out of his reach, my back against the fireplace. Pip, on my shoulder, snarled, and its cat tail bristled.

  “Take him,” Crowe said over his shoulder to the minions.

  As the minions’ big hands reached for me, I squirmed sideways. If I could just get to the door—

  The minion came after me. I shouted the dazzler spell. The magic worked perfectly—a gust of sparks exploded from Pip’s mouth and whirled into the minion’s eyes; he flinched away and threw up his arm to block the light. The sparks buzzed around him like angry bees. The chimney swifts were shouting and running to block the door. The other minion lunged after me.

  “Anafinaloth!” I shouted, the dazzler spell again. Pip leaped up, and a bolt of light shot into Crowe’s eyes.

  “Shut him up!” Crowe said, backing away, his eyes streaming. “Don’t let him use the magic!”

  The other minion leaped for me. He grabbed the front of my sweater and slammed me against the wall, and I gasped out the needle-prickler spell; he shrieked and let me go, slapping at his arms and legs as if he was being stung all over by wasps. I scrambled away from him and headed for the door.

  Nimble, gripping his locus stone, blocked my way. Two swifts loomed up beside him.

  Not that way, then.

  As the swifts reached for me, I scrambled under the table, dodging reaching arms, and came out next to the hearth.

  “Come on, Pip,” I gasped, and, kicking firewood out of the way, darted to the chimney. Swifts tried grabbing my legs, but I was too quick for them, climbing up the narrow chimney. Pip climbed after me, its cat paws clinging to the bricks. At the top, I stuck my head out and felt the cold air of night and saw the lights of the city and the dark sky overhead. Quickly I climbed out of the chimney and raced across the roof, Pip bounding after me. I got to the edge of the roof. A dark alleyway lay below, and then the roof of the house next door. A long way to jump, but not too far. From below, I heard the front door of Sootle’s house bang open, and a chimney swift’s shout.

  Taking a deep breath, I jumped, landing with a splat on the slate rooftiles. I listened for a second, and didn’t hear a shout from below. On stealthy feet, I padded across to the next house and made the alley jump again.

  When I’d been a thief, it had been easy to get into houses to steal things. I’d just find a gutter drain that led up to the roof, and then I’d climb in a high window, because often enough people left them unlocked. Soon I came to a house with a gutter drain, and shimmied down it to the ground. With the cobblestones cold under my feet and the sound of shouts and pounding feet behind me, Pip and I fled into the night.

  Crowe, Crowe, Crowe, I kept thinking. Crowe here, in the city. Crowe after me. The thought made me run faster. I couldn’t let him catch me.

  With Pip-cat bounding after me, I rounded a corner, my bare feet silent on the cobblestoned street. I ducked into a dark alleyway. Leaning against a brick wall, panting, I closed my eyes; the sound of chasing footsteps faded. Pip crawled up the wall beside me and clung to the bricks over my head.

  I edged to the corner and peered around. Pip leaped from the wall onto my shoulder and poked its whiskery cat nose around the corner, too. A few werelight streetlamps glowed, but the houses and shops along the street were dark. All was quiet.

  Grrrr, Pip growled.

  I slipped back into the alley and slid down the wall to sit on the cold cobbles. “Come here, Pip,” I whispered. Pip hopped onto my knees and fluffed its tail. Time to turn it back into a dragon. Putting my hand on the prickly place between the cat-Pip’s ears, I whispered the reverse-embirrimer spell. As the spell flashed, I shoved Pip under my black sweater so the sparks and white-bright light wouldn’t show every minion in the Sunrise where we were hiding. I hunched over as the light flared out.

  Pip squirmed. I lifted my sweater, and dragon-Pip crawled out, sneezing sparks and rubbing at its snout with its claw-paw.

  “All right?” I whispered.

  It cocked its head and gave me a glary look with its ember-red eye.

  Step-clatter-step, I heard, the sound of running feet. I snuck a look ’round the corner. Chimney swifts, racing down the middle of the cobbled street, coming straight toward my hiding place. A hooded, cloaked figure glided along a few steps behind them. One of the swifts pointed. I ducked back into the dark alley, and with Pip swooping after me on its golden wings, skiffed away. I took a couple of quick turns until the sound of chasing footsteps faded.

  I caught my breath. Now what?

  It is not a bad thing to ask for help now and then, Nevery had said.

  Right. He was right. I couldn’t fight Crowe alone. It was time to find help.

  I headed for home.

  CHAPTER

  18

  As I crept up the dark street toward the Night Bridge, I kept my ears and eyes open, but didn’t see anything that made me jumpy.

  But they were there, waiting in the shadows. Two soot-smudged chimney swifts, who stepped out into the road as I started across the bridge. One of them shouted over his shoulder, and two more swifts emerged from the darkness.

  They chased. I ran. Pip flew.

  ’Round a corner, down a narrow alley, through a park, then down another street, ’til I’d gotten away from them.

  So they’d blocked the bridge. Of course they had. Crowe wasn’t stupid; he knew I’d head for Heartsease. Right. I was on the Sunrise side of the city, so the best place to try next would be the Dawn Palace. Coming in the middle of the night and looking like a charboy, I might have trouble getting to see Rowan, but sure as sure the guards would take me to see Captain Kerrn.

  That decided, I headed up the hill.

  As I rounded a corner, there they were again, two swifts and a minion. Catching sight of me, they chased me back down the hill. I ran silent as a shadow and gave them the slip, and fetched up on the riverbank, panting, with Pip flapping behind me, also panting.

  A boat. They’d blocked the bridge, so I needed a boat.

  In the distance I heard a shout, then running footsteps.

  Drats! They were coming again.

  Quick as sticks, I skiffed down stone steps to a dock, and I was in luck. A rowboat with oars set inside. I untied the rope and jumped into the boat; Pip jumped in after me and I shoved us off the dock. Heavy feet pounded down the steps, but we were away.

  I rowed hard, thinking even harder. Sure as sure, Crowe’s minions would be waiting to jump me if I went to Heartsease, just like they’d jumped me once before. So I wouldn’t go there, I’d go to ground in the Twilight an
d make my way to Embre at Dusk House. Crowe would never catch me in the twisty streets of the Twilight; he never had before, anyway.

  I beached the boat on a stretch of mud near a Twilight warehouse that loomed like a cliff face out of the dark, then climbed up to a rutted path. With Pip flying behind me, I skiffed along until I got to Ten Crane Street that ran along the river.

  From down the street, shouts and a flare of light.

  Curse it, they’d gotten ahead of me again!

  I whirled and headed back the way I’d come. All right, all right. The back alleys. It’d take longer, but I could get to Dusk House that way. I started down another alley and heard running footsteps coming, so I headed in the other direction. ’Round another corner and across a wider street; I tripped on a pothole and went sprawling. Pip sprawled in a puddle beside me. Scrambling to my feet, I paused to grab up panting Pip, and raced away again.

  Rounding a corner, I caught a quick-look behind me at the chasers. Swifts again, with that same hooded figure as before. A wizard. Nimble?

  My legs quivered with tiredness as I pelted down one alley and up another. Rest. I needed a rest. I slipped into a narrow gap between two falling-down houses and ducked behind a pile of trash to catch my breath. Pip climbed up to my shoulder and clung there, its tail limp, its head drooping.

  “Tired?” I whispered to it.

  Krrrr, Pip breathed.

  At the end of the alley, a flare of light. “He’s down this way!” Nimble’s whiny voice shouted.

  Curse it! I jumped to my feet. It was almost like they were tracking me!

  Wait. How could I have been so stupid? They were tracking me. Nimble had his locus stone—he was working with Crowe, so he must have lied about it being stolen—and he must have a scrying globe, too. He was using the anstriker spell.

  I stumble-ran through the gap between the houses and right into the arms of two swifts.

  “Finalelenon!” I shouted, the needle-prickler spell, and they shrieked as tiny spell-sparks stung them all over. I jerked myself out of their hands and ran.

  Right, so Crowe would have his minions and swifts spread like a net all over the city, searching for me, tracking me. Time to do something he wouldn’t expect.

  I headed for the mudflats.

  I stumbled up to the mudlarks’ shack. A wind had started blowing and a couple of drops of rain pattered down. Thunder grumbled in the lands beyond the Sunrise.

  Way behind me, at the head of the path along the mudflats, was a glimmer of lights. Followers. They were coming.

  Bang-bang-bang on the door, and I leaned my head against the doorframe, gasping for breath. Come on.

  The door creaked open.

  “Lothfalas,” I panted, and Pip breathed out a glowing cloud of sparks that hovered over our heads. The light showed the mudlark Den in his warm coat and, peering over his shoulder, the girl Jo. In the shadows behind them, I saw the gleaming eyes of the mudlark-kids, sitting up in their blankets.

  “What d’you want?” Den grunted.

  I caught my breath. “I need your help.”

  “Helped you once already,” Den said. “Now take yourself off.” He started to close the door.

  Jo pushed past him. “No—wait,” she said. She looked from my face to Pip on my shoulder. “I know who you really are. You did magic there, with the light. You’re that wizard boy. We heard a story about you.” She nudged Den. “Remember?”

  Den shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Jo went on. “You’re the one who was a gutterkid, like us, and blew up that other wizard’s house and almost got hanged for it, and stole a magical jewel from the Underlord. That’s you, right?”

  Not exactly, but it was too much to explain. “Right,” I said. I glanced back toward the city. The followers were closer, their lights bobbing up and down as they ran along the path. The rain pattered down harder.

  “Yeah, I remember,” Den said. “The gutterboy-wizard. They coming for you?” Den wiped raindrops off his face.

  Oh, he wasn’t going to like this. “It’s Crowe. He’s come back to Wellmet.”

  “Crowe?” Den repeated. Beside him, Jo went pale. “And you led him here?” Den turned to speak to the other mudlarks. “Get up. We’re leaving.” Behind him, the kids were gathering their rags and blankets.

  “Sorry,” I said. Drats, I should have thought of this. “I’ll lead them away if I can.” I talked faster. “But I need you to take a message for me. Will you help me?”

  Den opened his mouth—to say no, sure as sure—but Jo interrupted. Maybe she was the boss, after all. “He’s a gutterkid like us, Den, even if he is a wizard,” she said. “And it’s Crowe he’s talking about. Crowe’s bad.” She spoke to me. “We don’t want him back here, sending his minions to beat us up if we don’t give him most of our takings. We’ll help. We’d better hurry.” She pointed at the mudflats path. “They’re getting close.”

  “All right,” Den said to me. “What d’you need?”

  In the distance I heard a shout. The lights moved closer. Torches.

  “Will you take a message to the wizard Nevery, on Heartsease island?”

  “To a wizard?” Den stared at me. Raindrops pattered down around us. Jo nudged him, and he shrugged. “Got to get them settled first.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the other mudlarks. “But once that’s done I’ll find this Nevery. What message?”

  I steadied Pip on my shoulder and got ready to run. “Tell him it’s Crowe who’s stealing the locus stones.”

  “Crowe stealing the stones,” Den repeated. “Right. What else?”

  “Tell Nevery that Nimble’s one of them, and if he doesn’t hear from me soon he should use the anstriker spell to find me, and to look for Crowe.” What else? “Tell him Crowe’s using a house in the Sunrise, along the river.”

  Jo pulled at Den’s sleeve. “Come on.”

  I took a few steps away, then turned back. “Tell Nevery to be careful,” I added. “And I’ll help you later if I can.”

  “Sure you will,” Den said. “Come on,” he said to the mudlarks, who had crept outside. They faded away into the rainy darkness beyond the shack.

  I led the minions and swifts on a chase through the marshes and mud. Then, too tired to run any more, I hid.

  CHAPTER

  19

  I crouched behind a clump of rattly dry grasses at the edge of the mudflats, panting, my heart pounding. Pip huddled at my feet. The minions and swifts surrounded us.

  “Come on out, wizard boy,” one of the chimney swifts growled.

  Not likely. The circle closed in. Trying to make a last run for it, I jumped up, shouting the dazzler spell, but somebody seized me from behind and clamped a hand over my mouth, and then the swift Drury was there, gripping my muddy legs, lifting me off the ground. I squirmed and thrashed. Pip launched itself at Drury’s face, hissing and clawing, but he ducked his head and held me tight. Then one of the minions, his eyes streaming from the dazzler spell, grabbed Pip by the scruff of its neck and stuffed it into a sack. Sootle brought another sack, one damp with the rain, and he and Drury shoved me into it. I shouted part of the needle-prickler spell and somebody thumped me, a punch right in my stomach that took my breath away.

  “Quickly,” I heard Nimble’s voice say. “He’s waiting by the river.”

  He. Crowe, he meant. I tried squirm-worming my way out of the bag, but somebody picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, and off we went, squelching along the mudflat path.

  As we went bump-bump-bumping along, I caught my breath and, as loud as I could, shouted the needle-prickler spell. A couple of paces away, I heard Nimble shriek and drop the bag that Pip was in. It landed with a squelchy thud on the ground.

  Then—thump—and ow, another breathtaking punch. “Stay quiet in there,” growled the minion carrying me. “No more spells.”

  He jogged along for couple of long minutes, went over some rough ground, then paused.

  “In here,” one of the chimney swifts said. �
�Hurry.”

  The minion tossed me and I bounced off what felt like a wall and crashed onto the ground. Catching my breath, I pulled the damp sack off my head. The surface under me felt bumpy and cold. Light from the torches flickered off wire mesh. I reached out with my hands and touched more wires.

  Had they put me into a cage?

  I shook my head. Something was wrong. Usually I could feel the steady strength of Arhionvar and the warmth of the old Wellmet magic, but they had disappeared. I couldn’t feel my locus magicalicus, either. My head felt echoing and empty. “Pip!” I shouted.

  “Quiet,” a swift said, and thumped the cage. Other minions and swifts were moving, dark shadows beyond the light of the torch.

  “Get the cloth,” Sootle said. Rain dripped from the ends of his stringy black hair. Drury nodded and went down the bank to what looked like a rowboat beached on the muddy shore; he returned with a folded canvas and rope. With the rain still pelting down, they wrapped the cage in the canvas.

  Inside the cage was dark, and the sound of the raindrops was a muffled pattery-pat on the cloth over my head. The cage was box-shaped, made of metal mesh, big enough that I could lie down in it if I curled up, and a little taller than I was. I used my damp sweater-sleeve to wipe the rain off my face. Without the magics, I felt cold and alone. Shivering, I crouched at the bottom of the cage.

  I wasn’t dead, at least. If they wanted me dead, they’d have done it already. So they wanted me for something else.

  After a moment I heard the sound of footsteps and low voices, talking.

  “Put it in,” I heard Crowe’s cold voice say. A prickle of icy dread ran over my skin. So he was here, too.

  A swift said something, and Crowe answered. “Yes, the other house. Hurry.”

  The cage lifted and jounced along and was set down, right-side-up. The ground rocked. The rowboat, then. It rocked again, people stepping into the boat, and the slither of ropes as they tied the cage down, then a push and we were out in the river.