“We cannot take any chances. The Swords of Light and Queen Lumeria’s Knights are trying with all their might to thwart us.”
“They shall not—” The rest of the sentence was cut off by the door closing.
“We need to get up there, the meeting is starting soon,” Ducot whispered in her ear. Her suspicions had been right. Ducot had been sent to stake out a Pillar meeting.
“You tell me when you think it’s time for us to make our move,” Eira said.
“I hear another coming, then we should go for it. Can you use one of your illusions again?”
“I can make a sudden, dense fog,” she offered.
“Better than nothing.” He shrugged. They waited as another person passed overhead and then Ducot went for the sewer hatch.
Eira rolled her hands, weaving together her magic with rainwater in the sewer. It rose up like a tamed serpent of fog, dancing before her, slithering through the sewer grate. Ducot paused as the mist rolled over his skin, glancing back at her. Whatever he thought of the sensation of her magic, he kept to himself.
Pushing the grate open, he hoisted himself through, pausing and listening. Then he reached a hand down for her. “Come on,” Ducot whispered. Eira took his help getting up.
They had emerged into a courtyard wedged between four buildings. More windows stared down, accusatory. But unlike the dark windows of the queen’s assistants, these windows had small, glowing motes hovering through them, illuminating people. Eira grabbed Ducot’s hand and yanked him against the wall by the doorway, underneath the awning overhead.
“Wha—”
“There are people in the windows over us,” she whispered into his ear.
“Tell me when they’ve passed.”
Eira watched as the two men—perhaps the men she’d heard from the sewers—strolled along the windowed hall. She clutched Ducot’s hand tightly and held her breath, praying they wouldn’t look down. Just as they were nearing the final window, talking could be heard in the distance.
“We have to move,” he hissed.
“Now.” Eira adjusted her illusion, thickening the fog slightly as Ducot tugged her toward the back side of the courtyard. He pulled her into a statue’s alcove, clutching her close. Just as they darted into concealment, two more people arrived at the other side of a barred gate that separated this courtyard from another beyond.
“Damn sewers,” the woman mumbled as she unlocked the gate. “Always like this after rain.”
“At least it can help conceal our faces should any knight see us,” the man who was with her offered.
“And it filters the infernal moonlight of Raspian.”
Raspian. She’d heard that name before, hadn’t she? Eira remembered a firelit night with Ferro. He had referred to the moonlight as “infernal,” too. Eira had little doubt he was one of the Pillars before, but now she was certain.
The two people entered the doorway, and Eira slowly relaxed her illusion, trying to make the fog look as though it were dissipating on the wind.
“I’m glad the Specters sent you.” Ducot eased his hold on her. The sentiment sounded like a confession. “I shouldn’t have offered to do this alone… It’s good to have an ally with working eyes now and then.”
“Your magic? The pulses?” Eira asked.
“It can be distorted by walls and glass. And my hearing does little for me in a situation like this.” He shook his head. “I got proud. Deneya must’ve known it and sent you after me.”
The thought alleviated some of her guilt for lying to him. If she’d proved her use, when it inevitably came out that she’d lied about being sent, he’d forgive her. Right? “Without me you’d just turn into a mole.”
“True. Maybe I should take back what I said. You’re a liability.” His face tightened into his lopsided grin.
“Thanks,” Eira said dryly. “Now what?”
“We have to get inside. See a way in?”
Eira scanned the area. Her eyes snagged on a low, rectangular window—access to some kind of basement. “I think so, hold on.” Glancing up and around, and seeing no one above, Eira ventured out of the safety of the alcove and over to the window. She focused on the other side of the glass, collecting water in the air and condensing it into ice that pushed against the latch.
The window swung open effortlessly.
