They hurried past it, hoods raised and heads down. When a troop of Ibalet soldiers passed, clad in silk and armor, Sorasa ushered Corayne into a basement dwelling cramped beneath a structure of apartments that looked more like a child’s blocks. It was dim and smoky; Corayne’s eyes stung as they adjusted to the light.
Once she could see, she realized they stood in a dirt-walled root cellar, the ceiling so low Dom had to stoop. Doors and archways branched off from all sides, leading into cramped darkness.
“I take it you know what you’re doing,” Corayne said. Dried herbs and bushels of plants hung from the ceiling, perfuming the air. Footsteps thumped from the dwelling above them.
The assassin kept one eye on a crack in the door. A single beam of sunlight split her face.
“Somewhat,” she replied. “This is a bit of a way station for the underbelly of Almasad. Thieves, pickpockets, the occasional assassin. And, now, fugitives of Queen Erida.”
“My aunt will not abide this.” Dom braced the side of his head against the roof. “I am a prince of Iona. To hunt me so openly is to court war with my enclave.”
Corayne tried not to roll her eyes. She investigated the cellar, turning over the plants with disinterest.
The assassin didn’t move from the door, her voice flat. “Your enclave refused to fight for the sake of the entire Ward, but they would fight for your life? Somehow I doubt that.”
“Just because you have no concept of honor or duty does not mean others do not,” Dom answered hotly. Sorasa replied with a withering glare, sunlight illuminating one copper eye.
A twist of lavender crumbled between Corayne’s fingers, filling the cellar with its heady, floral scent. She breathed it deeply, hoping for some calming effect. It didn’t work.
“I don’t know where we go from here,” Corayne said, shouldering between them. “The Spindle will be close to the Jaws, but that’s days into the desert. And no ship will take us by sea, not with our faces plastered all over the port.”
“Let’s figure out where we’re going before we figure out how to get there,” Sorasa replied. Without a sound, she slipped out the door, leaving motes of dust swirling in her wake.
“Good riddance,” Dom muttered. He drew up a crate and sat, straightening out his neck.
“You’d still be wandering up and down the Ward looking for me, if not for Sorasa,” Corayne said, brushing lavender off her hands. “You can at least pretend not to hate her.”
The immortal heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned back against the wall. “I do my best not to lie.”
Before Corayne could laugh or snap, Sorasa returned with Valtik and Andry in tow. The squire was flushed, his hood drawn up, his body coiled with tension. Somewhere, the witch had picked up a colorful scarf, patterned with scales, and wrapped it around her hair.
“Did you see?” Andry demanded, pointing back to the street with a shaking finger. “That’s us out there. Already.”
“We saw the posters, Squire,” Sorasa said, holding the door ajar for Charlie and Sigil, who trooped in with a little less concern. “That’s why we’re hiding instead of enjoying the sunshine.”
Corayne went to the old witch and took her by the hand. Her flesh felt so light, her skin thin as paper. “Valtik, what do the bones tell?” she said, pushing all her worry into her eyes. Valtik stared back, her gaze that same vivid blue. “I know they tell you something. Anything.”
“Don’t bother,” Dom said. “The witch has a way of being useless precisely when we need her most.”
Sorasa shut the door tight, plunging them all into shadow. “Something you two have in common?”
To Corayne’s relief, Dom ignored the jab and Valtik quirked a grin. Her free hand strayed to her belt, loosing the pouch of bones with a single pull of a string. They spilled around her feet, yellow and white, scrubbed clean of blood and muscle.
“Let’s see, shall we?” Valtik said, watching as they fell into place, seemingly at random. The others looked on, hunting for a pattern only Valtik could see. She didn’t stare long. Whatever she saw in the bones was clear as day. “We’re in the right land.” She turned her cornflower eyes back on Corayne. They bored into her. “But we must find a mirror—mirrors on the sand.”
“Why do we tolerate this Jydi nonsense?” Sigil hissed. Her bronze face had gone red in the heat, but it was nothing compared to Charlie, who was already sunburned. “And how long are we going to cower here?” The bounty hunter also needed to crouch, lest she crack her head on the roof. “It’s only a matter of time before one of your own comes along and sells us out.”