It would snap it in half.
At least the emerald House Kore eagle hadn’t got involved. That particular stone creature could detect “suspicious” activity and come to life even when its own object was not in question. Enrique nearly muttered a prayer of thanks until he heard a soft caw. Air gusted over his face from the unmistakable flap of wings.
Well, then.
“Was that the eagle?” Séverin said, wincing.
He couldn’t twist his body to turn.
“No, not at all,” said Enrique.
In front of him, the eagle tilted its head to one side. Enrique pulled more strongly on Séverin’s trapped wrist. Séverin groaned.
“Forget it,” he wheezed. “I’m stuck. We need to put it to sleep.”
Enrique agreed, but now the question was how. Because Forged creatures were too dangerous to go unchecked, all artisans were legally required to add a failsafe known as somno, which put the object to sleep. But even if he found it, the somno might be further encrypted. Worse, if he let go of the jaws, they’d only crush Séverin’s wrist faster. And if they didn’t get out by the eight-minute limit, the Forged creatures would be the least of their worries.
Séverin grunted. “By all means, take your time. I love a good slow, painful death.”
Enrique let go. Steadying himself, he circled the onyx bear, ignoring the ever-closer jumping of the emerald eagle. He ran his hands along the bear’s body, the black haunches and shaggy feet. Nothing.
“Enrique,” breathed Séverin.
Séverin fell to his knees. Rivulets of blood streamed, dripping down the creature’s jaws. Enrique swore under his breath. He closed his eyes. Sight wouldn’t help him here. With so little light in the room, he would have to feel for any words. He trailed his fingers across the bear’s haunches and belly until he caught something near its ankles: chipped-away depressions in the stone; evenly spaced and close together as if it were a line of writing. The letters and words came to life beneath his touch.
Fiduciam in domum
“Trust in the House,” translated Enrique. He whispered it again, running scenarios through his head. “I… I have an idea.”
“Do enlighten me,” managed Séverin.
The bear lifted one of its heavy, jet paws, casting a shadow over Séverin’s face.
“You have to… to trust it!” cried Enrique. “Don’t fight it! Push your wrist farther!”
Séverin didn’t hesitate. He stood and pushed. But his hand remained stuck. Séverin growled. He threw himself against the creature. His shoulder popped wetly. Every second felt like a blade pressed tight against Enrique’s skin. Just then, the eagle took off in the air. It circled the room, then swooped, talons out. Enrique ducked as the jewel claws grazed his neck. He wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. Once more, claws rasped at his neck. The eagle’s talons tugged him upward, his heels lifted off the ground. Enrique shut his eyes tight.
“Mind the hair—” he started.
Abruptly, he was dropped to the ground. He opened his eyes a crack. A bare ceiling met his gaze. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of talons on a podium. He raised himself up on his elbows.
The eagle had gone statue still.
Séverin heaved and rose to a stand. He clutched his wrist. Then, yanking his arm, he swung it forward. Enrique grimaced at the wetsnickof joints popping back into place. Séverin wiped the blood on his pants and plucked out the Forged compass from the mouth of the still, onyx bear. He slid it into his jacket and smoothed back his hair.
“Well,” he said finally. “At least it wasn’t like Nisyros Island.”
“Are youserious?” croaked Enrique. He trudged after his friend to the door. “It’ll be ‘like dreaming,’ you said. As ‘easy as sleep’!”
“Nightmares are part of sleeping.”
“Is that a joke?” demanded Enrique. “You do realize your hand is mangled.”
“I am aware.”
“You almost got eaten by a bear.”
“Not a real one.”
