Something clicked beneath her foot. Her stomach bottomed out. Realization of the Duke's plan slammed into her. The bars on the window would deter anyone from entering. Should a thief somehow get past the bars, as she had, the visible traps would lull them into a false sense of security. The invisible trap she'd just triggered was the ultimate fail-safe.
Somewhere below her, a massive bell shattered the silence. A steel grate dropped into place at the far end of the room. Acting on instinct, Ilanna leapt forward, just in time. Thick bars slammed into the spot where she'd stood a heartbeat earlier. Heart thundering, she threw herself against the bars. They held firm, unyielding and unmoving.
She was trapped!
Damn it! Her mind raced, and her eyes darted around. Think, Ilanna, think. How would she get out of this? By all appearances, she had no way out.
Her gaze fell on something in a darkened alcove beside the doorway. She shined the beamer light onto the object. Horror and terror coursed through her, and she leapt backward with a shriek. A corpse lay sprawled in the shadows. Hair and flesh had rotted away long ago, leaving only white bone and a grinning skull. Tattered shreds of a brown cloak hung on its frame, bearing the insignia of a hawk. She covered her face with her cloak to block out the pungent odor of decay.
Bloody hell! Dust and cobwebs covered the corpse; it had clearly lain there for a long time. Why leave it there? Why not move it?
Her mind flashed back to Denber's lecture on Duke Elodon Phonnis. "The Duke has publicly stated that the Black Spire is impregnable. To this day, he has never been proven wrong. This has allowed him to make a fortune installing traps, alarms, and other safety systems in the homes of the richest nobles in Praamis—even as far away as Voramis."
He takes pride in his reputation. He believes his systems to be infallible. She stared at the skeletal remains and a chill ran down her spine. The Duke had left the body there as a message. He knew the challenge his tower presented and he relished the opportunity to prove himself a match for any thief. This entire room—the only accessible room in the tower—had been constructed as a death trap.
But a man who would leave a corpse on display wouldn't be satisfied with simply executing them in the public square. He would delight in starving his victims to death, and they would die knowing they had failed to defeat him. Worst of all, he would taunt them with their failure. He would offer them an impossible way out.
Heart sinking, Ilanna searched every nook and cranny of the room, looking for anything out of place, anything that didn't belong. She discarded the notion immediately. He wouldn't make it that easy. Her years of experience had taught her to measure a man by the traps he set for thieves. A clever thief could find even the most secret of latches and levers. Duke Elodon Phonnis would make it impossible to escape. No, the way out will be somewhere just out of reach.
She squeezed her face between the bars, trying to get a clear view of the space beyond. An alchemical lamp filled the small room with soft light, illuminating a particular section of wall. There, in plain view, was a small square of solid gold.
That's it. It has to be. The lamp had been positioned precisely to shine on that spot. The gold would immediately arrest the attention of a greedy thief. It lay well out of reach, but well within eyesight. It was the perfect taunt. A pressure plate, perhaps?
Ilanna's hand toyed with the handle of her dagger. Her expert eye gauged the length of the room. At least forty or fifty paces across. If I throw it just right, it could trip the release. If she had Jarl's strength, perhaps. The gilded plate was less than a handspan across and she'd never excelled at throwing knives.
The alarm bell tolled out, filling the city of Praamis with the reverberating echo of her failure. The lever taunted her. It lay out of reach—so close, yet so far.
She bit back a curse. What can I do? A terrible image played in her mind's eye. She dangled from a hangman's noose, kicking and struggling as Duke Phonnis watched on. If I don't find a way out now, that could very well be my fate. She would join all of the other Hawks foolhardy enough to make the attempt. Denber had warned her, Master Hawk had warned her, even Master Gold had warned her. Why had she been so foolish as to think she could succeed?
She fell to her knees, shoulders slumped in defeat. A stab of sorrow flashed through her—not for her fate, but at the thought of never seeing Ethen again. She wouldn't be there to greet him if—no, when—he awoke. They would never spend time in the garden. She would never prove herself better with a sling.
The sling!
She leapt to her feet, fumbling at the leather thong on her belt. She drew a smooth, round lead ball from the small purse she'd carried since Ethen had taught her the sling. Without hesitation, she dropped the ball into the sling's pouch, whirled it around her head, and cast.
Her heart sank as the ball skittered on the stone floor. Harder! She slipped another into the pouch, spun the thong, and released. This time, the lead ball cracked off the wall an arm's length away from the pressure plate. So close!
Taking a deep breath, Ilanna drew and cast again. The ball collided with a corner of the gilded plate, chipping away at the gold. She squinted into the torchlight. She eyed her target. It had moved, she was sure of it. Just a little more…
She hurled two more lead balls in quick succession. One struck her target, but the other flew wide. Ilanna ground her teeth in frustration. She ran her fingers over the three pellets remaining in the pouch. Come on, Ilanna. You can do this!
Her next ball flew true. The pressure plate shuddered beneath the impact. It was so close to the wall; she could almost taste her freedom. I just have to hit it once more and I'll be free!
Confidence growing, she dropped the next lead ball into the pouch and let it fly. The moment it left the sling, her heart stopped. The cast was off. The projectile collided with the alchemical lamp, shattering it. The light slowly fluttered and winked out of existence.
No! She threw herself against the bars, squinting into the darkness. Acid daggers twisted in her stomach. She couldn't see her target. Without the light, she had little hope of hitting the lever. Her prison remained securely in place. She'd failed.
The alchemical light flickered, gasping out its last moment of existence. For a single heartbeat, Ilanna saw the gilded cube, as clear as could be. She fixed the memory in her mind even as her fingers went through the motion of slipping her last ball into the sling's pouch. Her arms seemed to move of their own accord, whirling the leather thong in circles and releasing. She didn't dare watch, but couldn't look away. Dread turned her blood to ice. She listened for the clack of metal striking stone.
Instead, she heard a tink. Elation coursed through her veins. I did it! She turned, blood rushing in her ears, her mind racing. Was it enough? Had she managed to trip the release? The darkness hid it from view; she had no way to be certain. She stared at the bars, willing them to move. For a terrifying heartbeat, nothing happened. The toll of the bell faded and an ominous silence filled the room.
With the slow grinding of levers, the bars rattled up into their housings. The doorways—both forward and backward—stood clear. She gasped in shock and relief. She'd done it. I'm free!
The alarm rang out again, dashing her hopes. Well, not quite. She had to descend the tower and slip through the gardens unnoticed. All of Praamis had heard the alarm bell. She had little doubt the gardens below would be filled with guards—all searching for her. She swallowed hard, pushing her fear aside. One problem at a time. First, I have to find something to steal.
She searched the room, looking for anything that would prove she'd made it up here. All three rooms stood bare of furniture. The only thing out of place was the corpse in the alcove. Something glinted at her from the shadows. A golden hawk pin, driven into the crest of the grinning skull. That'll do!
She pried the pin free with her knife and slipped the grisly trophy into her pouch. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the window, pausing only long enough to recover her thrown glove and the
beamer.
The darkness beyond beckoned to Ilanna. She clambered up onto the windowsill and slipped through the opening. A sharp pain flared in her right shoulder and arm. Warmth soaked into her shirt and trickled down her back.
"Watcher's teeth!" Gritting her teeth, she pulled the shard of glass from her arm. She couldn’t let the pain distract her; she had enough to worry about. Her bloodstained fingers fumbled with the knots holding the satchel closed. Coils of rope spilled from the sack, sliding through the bars. Ilanna made a desperate snatch. By pure chance, her fingers closed around one end of the black cord before it plummeted hundreds of paces to the garden below. Heart thundering, Ilanna hung there, gasping for air.
With trembling fingers, she secured the rope to the iron bars using one of the complex knots Denber had taught her. It would hold as long as her weight pulled on the rope, but would come loose when she reached the ground. She would leave no trace of her passage save a few shards of shattered glass and a handful of lead balls.
A quiet bark of pain escaped her lips when she tried to squeeze herself through the iron bars. The metal tugged at the torn flesh of her shoulder and arm. A fresh surge of blood rolled down her back. She wrestled her body through the narrow gap and clung to the bars with slick fingers. She had seconds to anchor the rope before her grip slipped. Locking her legs around the bars, she finished the final hitch of the knot and tugged it taut. Her breath caught in her throat as she tested her weight on the thin cord. It held.
Ilanna gasped, her heart hammering. One step at a time, she crawled down the rope. The descent proved easier than the ascent. With the rope coiled around her waist, she could afford to pause when the burning in her arms and legs grew too intense.
She dared not look down, but concentrated on the stone face before her and the rope sliding in her hands. Every muscle in her body ached. The makeshift harness constricted around her waist, pinching her skin and burning as it rubbed. Her forearms knotted with the effort of gripping the rope. But she'd prepared for this. With slow, cautious movements, she looped the rope around her leg and passed the line to her left hand. She hung there, hundreds of paces in the air, swaying gently in the breeze.
Twisting her neck, she stared out over Praamis. It looked beautiful at night. Thousands of lights dotted the city, glittering like candles. Ethen would love the view.
Thoughts of Ethen filled her with worry. She had to hurry if she wanted to escape before the Duke's guards discovered her. The longer she waited, the less time she'd have to slip through the gardens. Daybreak couldn't be more than an hour or two off. No time to waste!
Her heart lurched at the creak of rope. She felt herself dropping, as if the rope slowly unraveled. She risked a glance below. The ground had to be at least a hundred paces away. If the rope snapped, could she climb down the tower? Not before the rising sun revealed her clinging to the stone wall like a trapped spider.
With that thought firmly in mind, Ilanna hurried her descent. She leapt out into open space, dropping dozens of paces at a time. The rope burned her fingers and palms through her gloves, but she didn't care. Ilanna couldn't allow herself to worry. She focused on keeping a firm grip on the line. She had one thought: I have to get down, now!
She felt the snap through the rope and she plummeted. The treetops of Duke Phonnis' gardens rushed up to meet her. She crashed through the canopy, snapping twigs, bouncing off branches, and finally falling through the thick boughs. Ilanna slammed into the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Gasping for air, she tried to stagger to her feet. Shouts and cries filled the garden. Torches and alchemical lamps flickered in all directions. Her fall from the Black Spire had not gone unnoticed. At any moment, the guards would find her. She fought to move, but her legs refused to cooperate. The world whirled around her.
"Ilanna!" The familiar voice called her name again. "Ilanna, get up!" Denber's worried face hovered over her.
Ilanna groaned, her stomach heaving though nothing came out.
"Errik! Help me with her."
The Serpent materialized from the darkness beside Denber. "Damn it! She took a bad fall."
"I know, you idiot. That's why we have to get her out of here."
"But the Undertaking…"
Denber snarled. "Undertaking be damned, Errik! She can't move with that leg of hers. If she stays, the guards will find her. You know what will happen."
Errik said nothing, but seized her other arm. Together, he and Denber hustled her away through the gardens.
Ilanna wanted to ask them how they found her, but her mouth couldn't form the words. She fought to stay conscious, stumbling along between them. I…I did it! Every fiber of her being ached from her fall, but she clung to the thought. A sense of triumph flared within her. They said…it was impossible…but I did it.
With that, she slipped into the painless embrace of unconsciousness.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ilanna lay beside Ethen, his limp hand clasped in hers. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She watched the soft rise and fall of his chest. You have to get better, Ethen. You have to! The words rang hollow. Journeyman Tyman had looked worried when last he checked on Ethen. Something about the slump of his shoulders told Ilanna he'd written Ethen off. His gentle squeeze of her shoulder felt more sympathetic than reassuring. He hadn't returned in the last three days. Ethen's rasping grew louder with every tortured breath. Each heartbeat could be his last.
She winced at a fresh wave of pain. She'd spent the last week confined to rest on Tyman's orders. Her fall from the Black Spire had left her with cracked ribs, a dislocated hip, and more bruises than she could count. Ilanna didn't mind—even relieving herself proved difficult and she hadn't wanted to leave Ethen's side.
The door opened and closed. A hand rested on her shoulder.
Ilanna didn't turn. "Already?"
"Yes." Denber spoke in a soft voice. "I know you don't want to leave him, but…"
Ilanna craned her neck. "We can't keep the Masters waiting."
He nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. Grasping his outstretched hand, she pulled herself upright. Sharp pain flared in her side; it paled in comparison to the searing agony in her heart, one no poultice or potion could heal. She pushed a dark curl from Ethen's pale face and a lump rose in her throat.
I'll be back. Squeezing his hand, she struggled to her feet. Denber held out the crutches, and she waved them away.
"Ilanna, you know your hip—"
"Is fine, Denber. It's had a week to heal." She straightened, hiding a grimace. "See? Good as new."
He eyed her. "Are you sure? You're not just being stubborn?"
Ilanna nodded. "I'm sure, Denber." She laid a hand on his arm and gave him a weak smile. "But thank you."
Denber leaned the crutches against the wall and offered his arm. She accepted, more glad for the support than she wanted him to know. Despite her protests, she had to rest halfway down the tunnel.
"Take your time."
She glared up at Denber. His eyes held no trace of mockery, only sympathy. He carried as much of her weight as she allowed, though she refused to lean on him. She gritted her teeth against the waves of pain radiating from her hip. With grim determination, she placed one foot in front of the other. Before long, her whole body ached from the effort. She cursed herself for her stubbornness. The journey to the Menagerie seemed interminable. Relief flooded her as she limped down the last tunnel. Werrin and Willem stood waiting for her. The Hawks swung the ponderous double doors open at her approach.
Stepping into the high-vaulted central chamber felt like entering a whole new world. The Menagerie had always been such a drab, somber place, devoid of life or warmth. Now, hundreds of candles and torches flickered in ornate sconces, filling the room with a soft golden light. The colored banners of each House hung from the wall.
She stumbled toward the heart of the room, grimacing at the effort of hiding her limp. Her fellow apprentices waited in silence. Errik, in his robes of gre
en. Kit, Rai, and Edgar, wearing dark robes trimmed with orange. The tyro she had known as Eight, clad in pure white. The tyro, One, with robes of red-trimmed black.
Relief coursed through her. At least Sabat isn’t here. She didn't think she could be in the same room as the Bloodbear without killing him. After what he did to Ethen…
A knife twisted in her heart as she took her place between Errik and Kit. Her eyes darted to the double doors. Hope surged within her chest. Perhaps Ethen would stride through the doors, black robes and charming smile, to take his place beside her. Her hope died stillborn; no one entered the Menagerie. Ethen lay in her bed in House Hawk. He won't be coming.
Head held high, she faced the assembled Guild members. They lined the walls, deep hoods hiding their features from view. The House Masters stood at the fore, gilded candlesticks in their hands. The flickering light played tricks with their features.
Master Gold's voice boomed through the Menagerie. "Masters! Journeymen! Members of the Night Guild. Rejoice!"
The crowd thundered. "Hail, apprentices!"
Passing his candle to a hooded figure, Master Gold strode forward to stand before the circle of light. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tonight, we bear witness to the achievements of these apprentices. Tonight, we honor their years of work and sacrifice, and give them opportunity to join us as full-fledged Guild Members. What say ye?"
The shout rang out again. "Hail, apprentices!"
Master Gold turned to face the Night Guild. "For ten years, these you see before you have served the Houses of the Night Guild faithfully. They honored their Masters, obeyed the commands given, and learned the skills imparted to them." His deep voice echoed in the high-vaulted chamber, growing in pitch and intensity as he spoke. "Each has embarked upon an Undertaking to prove himself worthy of service to the Watcher in the Dark. Let us examine them and see how they have chosen to honor our god."
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