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by Sarah Prineas

  So they hadn’t set the fuse yet. All I needed to do was get into the room, snatch the vial, and dump it out so they couldn’t use the slowsilver for their locus stone fuse.

  Edging closer to the door, I scanned as much of the room as I could see. Had they come without minions or chimney swifts? I couldn’t see any big, burly men lurking in the shadows. Maybe they’d sent them to fight at Dusk House. All the better for me.

  I pushed the door open wider, wide enough so I could slip through. Neither Crowe nor Nimble noticed; they had their backs to me and were focused on the pyrotechnic bomb.

  “Hand me the tongs,” I heard Nimble say. The house shuddered as another gust of wind howled past the island. I couldn’t wait any longer.

  As Crowe reached into a bag he was carrying, I darted inside and faded into the shadows at the edge of the room. On cat feet, I crept toward the table and the vial of slowsilver.

  “Get on with it,” Crowe said. He put his hand in his pocket, and I heard the tick-tick-tick of his calculating device.

  As I slipped closer and got ready to spring for the slowsilver, a bony hand clamped over my mouth and a snakelike arm went around my throat.

  “Mfff!” I got out, and struggled, but the arms held me tightly.

  Crowe and Nimble whirled to look.

  “Caught a rat sneaking in,” the man holding me grunted. It was Sootle.

  I kicked at him, and he lifted me off my feet, his arm tightening around my neck. Black spots swirled in front of my eyes.

  “I thought you said he was dead,” I heard Crowe’s cold voice say.

  “He is!” Nimble shrieked. “He couldn’t have survived the explosion at my house on the island.”

  “Apparently he did,” Crowe said. “Put him down,” he ordered Sootle. “But hold him tightly. He’s slippery.”

  Sootle set me on my feet and took his hand away from my mouth, and I gasped for breath. He kept his other arm wrapped around my neck and grabbed my arm and wrenched it behind me so I couldn’t move.

  “Well, well.” Crowe stepped closer. “You do like to upset my most careful calculations, don’t you, Connwaer. But I don’t think you’re going to get away this time.” He gazed at me for a few moments, and then gave me a cold smile. “In fact, I don’t think you’re going to like this very much at all.” He glanced at Nimble. “Go down and fetch some rope from the boat. And be sure he didn’t bring anybody with him.”

  Nimble set down the tourmalifine tongs he’d been holding and went out the door.

  “Hm.” Crowe scanned the room, then looked back at me. “Where is your dragon, Connwaer? Has it abandoned you?”

  I didn’t answer. Looking past him, I saw the vial of slowsilver, still sitting on the table. All I had to do was knock it over. . . .

  I wriggled, but Sootle gripped me even more tightly.

  Crowe gave a dry laugh. “You do like to struggle, don’t you?”

  I heard footsteps on the stairs, and Nimble appeared carrying a coil of rope. “Bit of wind out there,” he reported, looking rumpled and pale.

  “It’s more than a bit of wind,” I put in.

  “Keep quiet,” Sootle hissed into my ear.

  “It’s just a storm,” Crowe said shortly. “Did he come alone?”

  “Yes, he’s alone,” Nimble said.

  “Of course he is,” Crowe said, taking the rope. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my nephew here, it’s that he’s exceptionally stupid about charging into dangerous situations all by himself.”

  I wanted to protest—I was getting a lot better at asking for help when I needed it—but this was something I had to do to protect the magics. Nobody else could do it for me.

  Crowe pointed at the box. “Finish setting the fuse,” he ordered Nimble. He motioned Sootle forward. “Bring him closer so he can see.”

  As Sootle dragged me closer, I tried kicking out at the vial of slowsilver, but missed. Sootle jerked my arm higher behind my back. “You can’t do this,” I gasped.

  “Keep still, little charboy,” Sootle hissed.

  “Oh, he’ll keep still in a few minutes,” Crowe said gloatingly. “Very, very still.”

  My heart started pounding harder. What were they going to do with me?

  “I need the locus stone,” Nimble said, from where he was crouched by the box.

  “You have to listen,” I said, as dread shuddered through me. “If this device goes off, it’ll destroy the whole city.”

  Crowe had taken the box made of tourmalifine wires from his bag. Inside it, small and dark as a soft-edged bit of night, was Nevery’s locus stone. Crowe paused, and his cold eyes examined me. “What is he talking about, Nimble?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Nimble said in his whiny voice. “He’s a nosy gutterboy who doesn’t know the first thing about magic. Now, I need that stone.”

  Crowe nodded. Carefully he opened the tourmalifine box, and Nimble reached in with the tourmalifine tongs. He picked up the stone and brought it to the bigger wooden box.

  The box was packed with blackpowder that looked blacker than ink in the dim room. Just like in the other pyrotechnic devices, there was a pile of tourmalifine, shining green crystals in the middle of the inky black. Set around the tourmalifine were three empty saucers.

  Holding the tongs tightly, Nimble set Nevery’s locus stone into its little nest of tourmalifine crystals. Then he put the tongs on the floor.

  As he picked up the vial of slowsilver, his hands shook. He’d never make a good thief or lockpick.

  “Get on with it,” Crowe snapped.

  Slowly Nimble poured slowsilver into each of the waiting saucers. The slowsilver swirled and sparked. “There,” he said in his whiny voice. “The fuse is set.”

  Crowe handed him the wooden lid, and Nimble put it carefully on the box; then Crowe turned to me. “Now, Connwaer, I want you to kneel beside the box.”

  “No,” I said, and tried squirming out of Sootle’s grip, my shoulder shooting fire as he wrenched my arm back again.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Crowe said, holding up a chiding finger. “If you struggle, you’ll bump the box, and set off the explosion.” He smiled. “You don’t want to do that, do you?”

  No, I didn’t. I had no choice. With Sootle still gripping me by the shoulders, I knelt beside the box. It came up to the middle of my chest.

  “Lean over the box,” Crowe ordered.

  I did as he said, very careful not to bump it. Sootle’s hand clamped down on the back of my neck, keeping me in place. Crowe grabbed one of my hands and, using the rope Nimble had brought up from the boat, lashed my wrist to the iron handle on one side of the box. Then he did the same on the other side.

  “All right,” he said, and Sootle’s hand let me go.

  And there I was, tied to the pyrotechnic device. When it exploded, I would explode with it, and the magics would rip through the city until there was nothing left of it.

  I heard Nimble gathering his things, and Sootle thump down the staircase, followed by Nimble’s lighter hurrying footsteps. When they opened the door, I heard the howl of the wind and then a shrieking crash as it slammed into a building in the Twilight. Ignoring the noise, Crowe stood in the middle of the room, watching me. “This has such a satisfying rightness about it,” he said, with a thin sliver of a smile.

  “I could bump it right now,” I said. The box, I meant. Blow myself up, and take Crowe with me.

  “You could,” Crowe said calmly, almost as if we were having an ordinary conversation. “But I don’t think you will. Because I know you, Nephew, and I know you’re always looking for a way out. Up to now, you’ve found it. But this time I think your luck has run out.”

  Drats, he was right about that. For me and the magics.

  Crowe bent so he was looking straight into my eyes. “Now, Connwaer,” he said. His hand went into his pocket, and I heard the tick-tick of the clicker device. “You don’t have much time before the device explodes, and you’ll want to cling to ever
y second. You cannot do anything except stay very, very still.”

  With that, he left.

  CHAPTER

  30

  I stayed very, very still. The edge of the box dug into my chest. My arms felt stretched tight, and the ropes tying me to the handles bit into my wrists. I took shallow breaths so my breathing wouldn’t shake the box. Overhead, I felt the magics roiling together as they reacted to the other explosions. The air felt thick and heavy like the moment right before lightning and thunder strike at the same time. As soon as Heartsease exploded, the magics would whirl out of control. They would take the whole city with them, and I wouldn’t be there to settle them again. Even if I was there, it might be too late.

  Inside the box, the slowsilver had to be snailing out of the saucers toward the pile of tourmalifine crystals, drawn by the magic in Nevery’s locus stone.

  How much time did I have left? A quarter of an hour? A few minutes?

  I rested my forehead against the wooden lid of the box. It was too late for anything. “Don’t come, Nevery,” I whispered. If he came now, he’d only arrive in time to be caught in the explosion. A crazy laugh trembled in my throat. Oh, wouldn’t Nevery be annoyed when I blew up Heartsease again?

  Then I heard a thump from downstairs.

  I held my breath.

  Another thump, and a rush of heavy footsteps on the stairs, and somebody threw the study door open.

  Nevery strode into the room, Pip clinging to his shoulder. Seeing me lashed to the box, he froze. “The fuse is set?”

  “It’s going to go off any second,” I said. “You’d better get out of here.”

  Nevery snorted. “I don’t think so, boy.” Swiftly, he went to the shelves beside the table and found a penknife. Kneeling beside the box, he sawed at the rope tying my wrist to the handle. “I saw Crowe and his people getting into a boat outside,” Nevery muttered to me. “But I didn’t expect to find you here, my lad.”

  “You should have,” I muttered.

  “Hah,” Nevery answered, and kept working on the ropes.

  Pip dropped off Nevery’s shoulder to the floor. The dragon edged closer to the box and sniffed at it.

  “Don’t bump the box,” I whispered.

  “Shh,” Nevery said, and sawed through the last strand of rope. “Now the other hand.” He got to his feet and made a wide circle around the box, then cut me free of the other handle.

  I sat back and took a deep, trembling breath. Pip swarmed up me to cling to my shoulder, panting.

  “Now, get out,” Nevery ordered.

  What? “But I have to defuse the device,” I said, getting shakily to my feet.

  “No.” Nevery pointed at the door. “It is my locus stone. I will do it.”

  But I was the one who’d stolen his stone! “No, Nevery!”

  “Do as you’re told for once, boy,” he growled.

  As an answer, I reached out and lifted the lid off the box.

  Inside the box, silver-bright snails were flowing all over the blackpowder, coming closer and closer to the tourmalifine as they were drawn to the locus stone. Nevery stepped up beside me to see. We only had a second, maybe two.

  We both started reaching for the stone. My hand trembled; Nevery’s was steady. “You do it,” I whispered.

  Nevery didn’t answer. Quick hands, steady hands, he reached into the box and plucked his locus stone from its nest of tourmalifine crystals.

  At the same moment, attracted by the slowsilver, and by the magic in the stone, Pip leaped off my shoulder and into the box.

  “Pip, no!” I shouted.

  And then the world exploded.

  CHAPTER

  31

  The roar of the explosion slammed into me and flung me out into the night. I tumbled through the darkness, and Pip flew next to me, tossed like a leaf in the wind. I saw Nevery, too, spinning away, surrounded by sparks and flames.

  “Nevery!” I shouted, and reached out for him, but he was gone.

  All around me, Heartsease burst apart, bricks and chunks of wood and rooftiles and arrows of glass zinging past me and spiraling out into the night. A chimney sailed past, still trailing smoke, followed by the wooden table from Nevery’s study, tumbling end over end. There went all the books from my room, flapping their pages like wings. And all around me, the magics whirled out of control, sweeping in wider and wider circles, sending wind and sparks lashing around the island.

  Farther off, a rowboat plunged away, riding the whirlwind, and I saw Nimble, Sootle, and Crowe crouched, clinging to the sides of the boat.

  Pip flashed past again, and I reached out and snatched the little dragon from the wind’s grasp and pulled it to me.

  “Tallennar!” I shouted, but I couldn’t hear my own voice; the wind roared too loudly in my ears. A slate from the new roof grazed my ribs; a shard of glass cut a line of pain along one hand; I ducked as Nevery’s favorite chair blundered past. I shoved Pip under my sweater for protection and looked wildly around for Nevery. He was tumbling farther and farther away.

  I had my locus stone. No, I had two because I had Brumbee’s stone in my pocket. And I had the power of a pyrotechnic explosion, and I could use it to demand the magics’ attention. I had to do this before it was too late.

  The magics rushed ’round the island again, making a towering vortex of sparks and thunderclouds and lightning, gathering up all the splinters and bricks and ruin of Heartsease, spinning and wobbling like they were going to fly apart and shatter into a million pieces.

  Gripping Brumbee’s locus magicalicus, and clutching Pip, I shouted, as loud as I could in the dragon language, “STOP.”

  I didn’t really expect the magics to listen, but slowly, like an avalanche coming to rest, the magics’ wild whirling slowed, steadied. I could feel all of their power and attention fixed on me. They were upset and wild; they needed somebody to help them, or they would destroy the city.

  “Stop,” I told the magics again, and they spun down to a frozen silence. My feet thumped to the ground and I wobbled for a second and then found myself standing on the smooth-swept cobblestones of Heartsease island. The house was gone, and so was the black tree and all its birds. Beyond the island was only darkness. Above me, the magics waited, pressing down on me. So heavy.

  I took a steadying breath. Pip crawled out from under my sweater and perched on my shoulder. I gripped Brumbee’s locus magicalicus.

  I gazed up into the tangled magics. The last time I’d tried this, the magics had almost taken me away. But I had to do it. The magics loomed like a towering storm, alive with thunder and lightning ready to strike. Slowly I spoke the words that would settle them again. It was like untangling one of Benet’s snarls of wool—black strands all woven together, but once I got one strand unsnarled, another one would swirl into a new wild tangle. I shouted the spell louder, but my voice sounded tiny, disappearing in the huge rushing roar of the magics’ winds. The magics grew heavier and heavier, bearing down on me. I pushed back, and the effort had me panting and seeing double and stumbling over the spellwords. On my shoulder, Pip drooped. The tendrils of magic wrapped around me, tighter and tighter. It was like trying to keep a huge boulder from falling off the edge of a cliff. It was about to go over, and take me with it. I fell to my knees.

  I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.

  “Nevery!” I gasped. He was out there somewhere, caught up in the roiling magic overhead. “Magics,” I ordered. “I need Nevery.” I said it again, with all my strength, in the magic language. The magics knew him and his locus stone—they had to be able to bring him back.

  A rushing sound, and “I am here, boy,” Nevery’s gravelly voice said from behind me. I jerked around and there he was, his hair and beard tangled, his feet settling onto the ground as if the magics had just set him there with a giant, invisible hand. “This is most interesting,” he said, looking around.

  “I need your help!” I panted.

  “Ah.” He bent and helped me to my feet. I swa
yed, and he put his hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

  “Ready?” I asked, catching my breath.

  “Yes, boy,” Nevery said calmly, and held up his locus magicalicus.

  I took a deep breath and spoke to the magics again, and Nevery spoke with me. Our voices boomed out together, and this time the magics listened. I untangled one bit of the magic and Nevery held it while I unsnarled another bit, and after a long, tiring time we had Arhionvar looming over the Sunrise and the old Wellmet magic spread like a warm blanket over the Twilight. There was a feeling like a deep sigh after a storm, and the magics clicked into place. There, settled. The city would be all right, at least for now.

  And then, just as quickly as he’d come, Nevery was gone from my side—the magics whirled him off, and he disappeared into the blackness.

  “No!” I shouted.

  They always wanted something in return, the magics. They’d taken my first locus stone, and they’d taken Heartsease, and they’d taken me, once. But they could not have Nevery.

  “Give Nevery back!” I ordered the magics. “You can have Crowe instead. And Nimble and Sootle, too. But you have to give Nevery back!”

  It was as if Arhionvar turned its huge, stony, uncaring back on me, ignoring my demand.

  “Give him back!” I shouted. My voice sounded desperate and full of tears.

  On its side of the river, the old Wellmet magic twinkled softly. Then, like the tide coming in, it washed up against Arhionvar’s strength. I held my breath. “Please, magics,” I whispered. “I helped you. Now I need your help.”

  Silence for a long, dark moment.

  Then a stone fell out of the sky and landed next to my foot. I flinched aside, then glanced at it. A brick.

  Wait. A brick?

  I blinked, and across the cobblestones from me, with a deafening whumph, the black-branched tree slammed out of the sky and back into the courtyard, its roots plunging into the ground. The cobblestones flowed out in a wave around the tree, knocking me to my knees again.

  Bricks rained down all around me, piling themselves into walls. Wood arrowed out of the sky and arranged itself as floors. The chimney dropped into place, and the roof landed like a jaunty hat on top of it all. Windows slotted themselves into the walls, their glass flying in tinkling shards, then melting back into the frames. Books flew in the doorways and onto the shelves, and then the doors themselves bumped into place.