A pulse of magic and he was a mole once more. Eira pressed herself against the building and waved her hands through the air. A blanket of illusion covered her as two of the queen’s knights strolled by. One held a torch, and Eira worried the jarring difference of moonlight and firelight would expose her illusion. But they must’ve been too blinded by the halo of light to notice.
Ducot waited a good five minutes that felt like an hour before shifting back into his morphi form. “What did you do?”
“An illusion. It’s a Waterrunner skill.”
“So you can make yourself invisible?”
“I can do almost anything with it.” Eira tried to frame it in terms of Meru’s magics. “Think of it likedurroe watt—if you’re familiar with Lightspinning.”
“If I’m familiar.” Ducot snorted softly. “You say it as if I didn’t have fear of Lightspinners and the Faithful instilled in me from a young age.”
“Fear?”
“No time to talk now.” He turned back to the street, a little too eager to walk away from her question. “We only have an hour before the meeting begins.”
“Right, let’s keep moving.”
“Try and keep up, Waterrunner.” Ducot started off once more with a smirk on his lips and a little bit faster than before. Eira couldn’t suppress the feeling that he was testing her. And she was going to rise to the challenge.
They came across two more patrols on their way through the city before halting at a bridge that crossed from their side of Risen—the Archives’ side—over to the side the castle was on. Ducot hesitated and Eira stayed silent, trying to still her ragged breaths. She wasn’t used to running so much and her shoes definitely weren’t made for it. They were biting into her heels with every step now. But at least she’d worn a looser skirt to the soiree tonight.
“Now,” Ducot said without warning and dashed across the bridge. Eira followed closely behind, illusioning a blur of fog around them that she slowly dissipated on an unfelt breeze long after they were on the other side.
Eira hadn’t been in this area of town yet. While the architecture was mostly the same, the first floors and building fronts seemed to be used for more official purposes. The towering facades had square columns that rose between dark windows like bars. The glass glinted in the moonlight like eyes staring down at them and, for the first time, Eira had the distinct feeling she was being watched.
They finally came to a stop in an alleyway near one of the buildings. Ducot shifted back into his morphi form, looking up and around. Eira could feel tiny pulses of magic rippling through the air, originating from him.
“There’s some kind of ladder here, right?” He pointed above his head.
“Yes… It looks like some kind of escape access?” Eira guessed.
“Will it lead to a second-floor window with a pane of glass missing?”
Eira scanned the building. “Yes, back by the street. But—”
“Then this is it.”
“We’ll have to walk along the narrowest ridge to get to it,” Eira pointed out, hoping she didn’t offend him by saying something he already knew.
“Afraid?” Ducot grinned.
“Worried for you is all.” She grinned back. “Want me to get the ladder down?”
“If you don’t mind.”
There was a latch on the side of the ladder that looked to be holding up the rusted, iron access. She drew her hand across her chest, sending a whip of water to smack against it. As soon as the latch was undone, the ladder fell freely, grinding against itself. Eira reached out her other hand, stopping it with a cube of ice just before the metal slammed into the stone below and woke up half the city. Ice hadn’t been the best choice either, as it still sang on impact.
Ducot cringed. “Thanks for alerting them to our location,” he said after the sound of ringing metal had finished its long, horrible resonance.
“They might not think it’s anything.” Eira wondered who “they” were. Though she had her suspicions.
“Surethey won’t.” Ducot rolled his milky eyes and started up the ladder. Eira followed behind him. When they were both poised on the small platform at the top, Ducot turned toward the ladder. His magic pulsed around it. Eira blinked and the ladder was up and locked once more.
“How did you do that?” she whispered.
“The shift is making what is what could be,” he reminded her. “Though, I can’t be certain that latch will work. It’s not like I ever saw it in the first place.” Ducot knelt down by the edge of the iron ledge. Eira could feel his magic pulsing out once more. It was some kind of echolocation—she presumed—that allowed him to sense the world around him. “I’m going to tackle this as a mole; it’ll be easier for me that way. Will you be all right?”
“Now you’re worrying about me? How sweet!”
