“By order of the New Ionian guard, you are to open this door immediately!” a booming voice called.
It was followed by a quieter, more dignified voice. “Daphne Fallow, don’t embarrass yourself any further,” said Chancellor Fallow. “You have until the count of five, and then you won’t like what happens next.”
“I’ll hold them off as long as I can,” Buford said quietly. “The quickest way out of here is the maintenance door. Two lefts, then a right. You’ll come out facing the back exit from there.”
“Understood,” said Zada.
“Five,” intoned Chancellor Fallow.
“But what about you?” Zada said.
“I’ll be fine. My family will protect me. And Legislator Bassey is doing what she can to reform this place,” said Buford in a low voice. “We’re planting seeds of change where we can. In the meantime—”
“We need to go,” said Daphne, glancing at the door.
“Four.”
“Just take care of yourself. We’ll do what we can for the city,” Buford said. He pointed down the hall. “Two lefts and a right.”
“Thank you,” Zada told him.
“Three.”
Zada and Daphne took off running again.
“Two.”
They’d just passed through the first door when the sizzle of a dematerializer announced the end of the countdown. They could hear the doors swing open, the artificial candle apparently melted away.
Then Buford was saying in a loud, clear voice, “They went that way! To the right!”
And then Zada and Daphne were racing through the next door, lungs burning, legs burning. The pounding of guard boots grew fainter. The guards had followed Buford’s misdirection.
“There’ll be more guards outside,” Daphne warned.
Zada nodded grimly. They had come to the last fork. They flung open the door and slipped out into the alley, the searing sunlight nearly whiting out their eyes.
“You two,” said Sister Patience. “Get in the back, now.”
“Where’re we going?” asked Daphne.
“To our ship, and then out of the city,” Sister Justice told her. “Now quickly—”
The large wheeled crate hooked up to the solar-powered cart was stacked to the brim with pieces of intricately made lace, nearly overflowing. Zada and Daphne clambered onto the crate, and Sister Justice proceeded to pile scraps on top of them until Sister Patience said, “That’ll have to be enough. Girls, try not to breathe too much.”
The wheels began to turn. Zada lay on the rough wood, draped in white and cream and ivory like a giant veil, Daphne still maintaining a firm grip on her hand. All around her, the familiar sounds of the city filtered in—passersby talking, the rumble of hyper-carriages, and the beeping of horses. A high, thin alarm began to sound. Zada immediately recognized it as the city guard’s siren. Her hand not holding the triple cello and bow tightened around Daphne’s.
“It’s all right, just stay calm,” said Sister Justice, seemingly to Sister Patience, but she had pitched her voice to be heard over the din.
Zada concentrated on breathing shallowly, staying very still, and not utterly crushing Daphne’s hand in hers. She knew the sisters were right. If anyone found them back here, it wouldn’t just be Counseling and Extrication for Zada and Daphne. Their apprehension would also make the nuns a target—not just Sister Patience and Sister Justice, but also possibly the entire order. There was nothing to do but fight the urge to scream, to move, to run.
The cart rolled forward a few inches, then paused. Several more inches, and then it halted again. They were stuck in traffic, and Zada had a good idea of the cause. The city guardwas stopping vehicles for questioning.
Zada bit the inside of her lip. It was hot under all of that fabric. A bead of sweat formed at the small of her back.
The cart crawled onward. Zada couldn’t track where they were anymore. There was a crack in the wood at the bottom of the crate, and she focused her eyes there, trying to watch for landmarks, but the roads all looked the same. The siren wailed on and on, growing closer with each reverberation.
“Good morning, sisters,” said someone from just up ahead. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
