“Given the patrols, I can see why you’d believe he’s here,” Stran began. “But there’s no structure other than the tower, and as you can tell from the ruins, no one—”
Kreya cut him off. “He’s beneath it.”
Jentt nodded. “You can dig yourself quite a large basement in twenty-five years.”
“It would explain how he’s kept himself and his soldiers out of sight,” Kreya said. She deliberately did not look at Marso. It wasn’t his fault she’d brought him here before he was ready. But they couldn’t have waited, not if the worst was true. “Here’s what I’m thinking: stealth and speed to enter the tower. Stran, you hide Marso inside the tower and keep watch—”
Marso’s eyes widened. “I can’t go in there. I’d scream for certain. Give you away.”
She considered that for a moment. They couldn’t leave him unguarded on the plain, but they also needed Stran to be lookout—it would be all too easy for the patrols to block their escape route without Stran to keep the way clear. “If you can’t handle it...”
Zera rolled her eyes. “Obviously he can’t handle it. I still say gagging him is the right move. Can’t scream in mortal terror if there’s a thing shoved in your mouth.”
“That’s inhumane,” Stran said. “We don’t gag friends.”
Kreya weighed the options. She too didn’t like the idea of gagging a teammate any more than Stran did. But Zera was in the right here, and she knew that. No matter how much like their old selves they’d all felt in the valley, she had to acknowledgethat time had passed and they had all changed, most obviously Marso. Opening her coat, she extracted one of the rag dolls. “Marso, if you can’t control yourself, my friend here can silence you. Would that be acceptable?” To the construct she said, “If he begins to scream, can you stuff yourself in his mouth without hurting him? Make sure he can still breathe.”
Marso reached out a shaky finger and touched the cheek of the doll. He then nodded, and Kreya placed the construct on his shoulder. It wrapped its arm around the back of his neck to hold on.
“All right then,” Kreya said. “Stran, you’re on guard with Marso. Keep yourselves hidden. Any patrol comes, eliminate them.”
“What about the archer?” Jentt asked. “It could sound an alarm and draw more patrols to the tower than Stran could handle at once.”
“Take the archer out now,” Zera suggested.
Kreya shook her head. “A patrol could notice its absence.” She drew the other two rag dolls out of her coat. Addressing them, she said, “Once we’re inside, sneak to the top of the tower. If the archer grows suspicious and tries to sound an alarm, bind his wrists so he cannot use his bow and fill his mouth so he cannot cry out. Do you understand? If there’s danger, silence and still him.”
Both constructs nodded eagerly.
“Jentt, Zera, and I will descend—”
“I donotlike that idea,” Zera objected.
Truthfully, she didn’t like it either. The team functioned best with Zera supporting the fighters. Putting Zera on the front line risked the effectiveness of the whole team. But there weren’t too many options, given the situation and all the unknowns.“We don’t know what we’ll face down there,” Kreya said. “You’re the only one who knows exactly what firepower we have and how to use it. We need you.”
Zera glared at her but nodded.
To Stran, Kreya said, “If we come out and say ‘bury it’... be ready to pull down the tower. Destroy it down to the stones.”
“But that’s not Plan A,” Jentt clarified. His eyes were fixed on Kreya’s, as if trying to read her intent. “Plan A is still reconnaissance, then regroup and determine how to safely proceed.”
She knew what he was asking: was she planning to risk herself?All of this is a risk,she thought. “If there’s an opportunity, we take it. But we take no unnecessary chances.”
“Agreed,” Jentt said.
The others agreed as well, even the rag dolls.
Kreya darted across the bare, open land between the tall grasses and the tower. She knew that with Zera’s combined speed and stealth talismans, she was barely a streak to the human eye. A whiff of cloud that could be confused for the haze of heat.
They slipped through the broken door into the shadowed interior. Last time she had been here with Zera, they’d run too quickly to explore. Now, as the two rag dolls scurried up the stairs to monitor the archer, Kreya examined the atrium.
This was the room where Eklor had issued his orders to his troops, where he’d planned his attacks. The walls had been covered in maps. There had been only one chair, a thronelike wooden seat. She crossed to where she remembered its being. Only a pile of charred sticks remained.
“See,” Stran said in a whisper. “There’s nothing here.”
“Except memories,” Kreya said.
“And this trapdoor into—and this is just a guess, but I’m going to assume it’s accurate—a pit of horrors.” Zera waved lazily at a strip of burlap that lay across the floor.
