“Sounds like we made it to the vault all right,” Gin whispers. “That sounds like a group of guards.”
“How many do you suppose there are?”
Gin shrugs, then holds up her hand.
“Five?” I mouth.
She nods.
That isn’t bad. We could take on five, if we do it right. We backtrack a bit so we can make a plan. “Maybe we can lure them out one at a time,” I suggest.
Gin agrees.
How should I do it? I remember how the guard was whistling right before I knocked him out. Maybe if I whistle, one of the others will come out looking for him. And even better, he wouldn’t be prepared for a fight.
I put my hands up to my mouth to project the sound, then let out a quick, shrill whistle.
Some of the noise in the room goes quiet. It’s working. I do it again. Then we wait, braced for battle.
Nothing happens.
“Try again,” Gin whispers.
Once more, I whistle. Now there are no sounds coming from the room at all. And yet, no guards appear, either. My eyebrows furrow. What’s going on?
Gin makes a high, screeching whistle, like she’s trying to call someone over.
That doesn’t work, either.
“Maybe we should go in,” Gin suggests.
I don’t like that. “It could be a trap.”
“We can’t stand here whistling all day, either.”
She’s right. We have enemies behind us; enemies in front of us. But victory lies only in one direction. The only way is forward. “Let’s go, then.”
We sneak up to the bend and peek around, but we can’t see anything. Some of the noise from before returns, the scraping and mumbling. I’m not sure what I’m hearing now. I have no idea what to expect.
As we come around the corner, there’s a shout. We both startle, ready to fight, and search for our attacker. But it’s not a group of Blackcoats or estate guards. It takes a while to understand what we’re looking at. Then it sinks in. I put my fists down.
It’s a series of cages. Jail cells, crammed full of Ophir prisoners. Faces peer out at us. Men and women and even a few children in shackles.
One of them cries out when they spot us.
It’s Silva. The barmaid from the pub who told us about the secret passageway. Gin and I rush over to her.
“They found out I was skimming from the top,” she says, when she sees us. “Hauled me off here with all the others. Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alive. Over there.” She points to a hook on the far wall. A large brass key on a heavy ring hangs from it. “Get us out of here.”
I grab the key and unlock the cell door, then go to work freeing her from the chains that bind her ankle to the floor.
“Did you come up from the tunnel from the beach?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Long story. No. But we’re still trying to find the vault. That’s how we ended up here.”
