Hidden

Chapter 10

Yun Ji-yeong was tall for a girl, though still shorter than Anne or me. She wore a white sleeveless top and grey leggings, the twin shortswords hanging off her belt. Her right hand rested on one of the hilts, and her fingers tapped it as she watched me with a considering sort of look. Now that I got a proper look at her she seemed young, twenty at the oldest. Despite the fact that she’d been chasing me for a good half hour, she wasn’t breathing hard. The sea breeze blew across both of us, tugging at my armour and rippling her hair.

I spoke first. “So I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“You’re the one who’s been making trouble for Darren and Sam.” Ji-yeong tilted her head, studying me. “You don’t look like much.”

“I suppose I don’t.” I was aware of the two shadows at my back but didn’t show it. “Yun Ji-yeong, right?”

“That’s right. Not running?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re faster than I am.”

Ji-yeong smiled. “That’s why it’s fun.”

“For you, maybe.” Scanning the futures, I couldn’t sense any immediate aggression. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Like what?”

“I’ve been kind of getting the feeling that you’re the odd one out in your trio.”

Ji-yeong frowned slightly. “Sorry?”

“Darren’s friends with Sam,” I said. “Sam’s friends with Darren. I don’t think Sam and Darren are friends with you.”

“They’ve always been like that.”

“So I’m curious. Why are you helping them?”

“I knew you’d gone down here,” Ji-yeong said. “I’ve had a lot of time to explore this castle. Darren figured you’d gone south.” Ji-yeong shrugged again. “I haven’t told him yet.”

I noticed the yet. “Why, was there something you wanted to ask?”

“Why does Crystal want that girl?”

“Do you know what Crystal did before she came here?”

Ji-yeong didn’t take the bait, but from her body language I was pretty sure the answer was no. Interesting. “Crystal used to be a Light mage, researching life extension,” I said. “She’s got a ritual that she thinks will give her immortality. She tried to get Anne once, and ever since she’s been hiding. She’s been here what, two months?”

“Three months.”

I nodded. “She can’t set foot in Britain, not safely. So she sent Darren and Sam to do her work for her.”

Ji-yeong tapped her sword hilts thoughtfully. “You know, I’m a bit surprised you don’t know all this,” I said. “Crystal was big news for a while. Don’t you get out much?”

“No,” Ji-yeong said, slight irritation showing on her face. “Sagash hardly ever lets me go out. It’s really annoying.”

“You didn’t get invited to the party?”

“Sagash made me stay and guard the castle.”

“You don’t have a flat in London or something?”

“Sagash won’t get me one.”

“Seems a bit stingy.”

“I know, right? We’re his apprentices, but he’s too cheap to spend any money on us. It’s not as though he’s poor.”

“Darren and Sam seem to have their own places.”

“Oh, they’re not theirs. That flat of Darren’s belongs to his sister. And Sam lives with his parents.”

“What about you—your family back in Korea?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you stay in touch?”

“I call once a week or so. We do video calls on Skype.”

“I guess you can’t really get an Internet connection here.”

“No, I have to gate out to London. It’s a pain, it’d be nice to do it from my room in the keep.”

“Shadow realms are a bit inconvenient that way.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. We looked at each other across the stone.

“So are you going to come along quietly?” Ji-yeong asked.

“I think I’d rather not.”

“I could kill you and drag your body back,” Ji-yeong said brightly.

“That seems like a lot of work. I’m kind of heavy.”

“Oh, two of these shadows can carry a body easily as long as they don’t fly.”

“Okay, leaving aside just how disturbing it is that you know that particular detail, who exactly would you be taking me back to? Crystal or Sagash?”

“Sagash,” Ji-yeong said. “It’s one of our jobs. We’re supposed to stop anyone getting in here without Sagash’s permission.”

“Darren and Sam managed to screw that one up pretty badly.”

“Yup,” Ji-yeong said with a smile. “Telling Sagash is going to be fun!”

“So that’s your plan?” I said. “You take me back to Sagash, tell him what happened, get Crystal and Darren and Sam into trouble and come out looking good?”

“Pretty much,” Ji-yeong agreed. “You coming?”

“How about we do this a different way? The way I see it, Crystal, Darren, and Sam don’t like any of us very much right now. And it doesn’t sound as though you like them that much either.”

“Not really. I only went along with them because I didn’t have anything to do. When Sagash is busy with his research, it gets really boring. You and that girl are the most fun we’ve had for months.”

“So why don’t we work together?” I said. “The only reason I’m here is to find Anne. And you don’t care if she gets out of here, right?”

“Not really,” Ji-yeong said. “But I don’t care if she doesn’t get out of here, either. And if I go back to Sagash on my own, he’s not going to listen because it’ll just be my word against theirs. But if I bring you back then he can question you for proof, and I get the credit.”

“Slight problem with that plan,” I said. “I don’t really think I want to cooperate.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ji-yeong said. “I watched you fight Sam. You haven’t got anything that can hurt me.”

“You could still—”

“Nope,” Ji-yeong said. Steel rang as she unsheathed her two swords, sunlight glittering off metal. “Done talking. Time for me to kick your arse.”

I sighed. “Well, can’t blame me for trying.”

“Don’t worry,” Ji-yeong said. “I’ll make sure to keep you alive for afterwards.” She spun the swords from a forward to a reverse grip and back again, then advanced. I backed towards the pillars as she drew closer.

Ji-yeong was slim and fit. She wasn’t obviously muscular, but I could see the life magic woven through her body, reinforcing and strengthening. I know life magic can be used for enhancement, but I’ve never seen it used much—Anne can do it, but only the basics. For Ji-yeong, enhancement seemed to be her specialty. The spells were densely woven, complex and hard to read, but they looked like direct boosts to her physical abilities. Not only was she fitter than me, she was probably stronger and faster too.

But no matter how strong or fast, she was still an apprentice. If Ji-yeong was better than Anne with that kind of life magic, she had to be worse with others. Her two swords were less than two feet long, on the borderline between sword and knife. I was fairly sure they were focuses of some kind, but the fact that she’d drawn them suggested that she couldn’t paralyse or kill with a touch the way Anne could.

Ji-yeong caught up with me when I was still a few feet from the pillars. I stopped retreating and stood side-on, my hands low. Ji-yeong made an experimental cut at my wrist and I twitched it away; she tried twice more for face and arm and each time I swayed just out of range. The next thrust was a feint; she stepped through and spun low, whirling through a full circle to slash with the other sword at ankle height. I jumped back, retreating into the cover of the pillars.

Ji-yeong came up gracefully. “Not even going to try?”

“I think I might be a little overmatched,” I said dryly.

“Boring,” Ji-yeong said, making a face. “Thought you were going to make this fun.”

My divination was my only warning. The right sword missed my face by about three inches, and I leapt back as the other cut the air where my arm had been. Before I had the chance to catch my balance Ji-yeong was on me again, moving at full speed this time. She was stronger than me, and frighteningly quick. Her swords were a blur of metal.

But while Ji-yeong was fast, she wasn’t that good, something I’d already suspected from her choice of weapons. Wielding two swords at once looks good in the movies but doesn’t work too well in practice—it isn’t really possible to strike effectively with both sides of your body at once, and the human brain isn’t wired to operate both hands simultaneously and independently. There are a few niche cases where it can work, but most of the time you’re better off learning to use one weapon well instead of weighing yourself down with two. Ji-yeong didn’t look like she’d spent much time learning to use her swords at all. Her attacks were showy and inefficient, much of her speed wasted on unnecessary motion.

I backed away, ducking and slipping the attacks as Ji-yeong pressed me. Her movements were a blur, but I could see her strikes coming and they hit nothing but air. Surprise showed on her face, then concentration. I kept giving ground, dodging between the pillars to interfere with her swings. The more I watched the way she moved, the more sure I became that she didn’t have much experience against skilled opponents.

On the other hand, if you have enough unfair advantages, you don’t need experience. I could dodge Ji-yeong’s attacks, but none of my magic items could hurt her. My stun focus wouldn’t touch her reinforced body, and the dispel would be an annoyance at best. Glitterdust could blind her, but with her lifesight she didn’t need eyes to know where I was.

Well, if magic wasn’t going to work, I’d have to do this the regular way.

I still hadn’t made any attacks of my own. With no threats to make her careful, Ji-yeong was getting more aggressive, taking less trouble to guard herself. A shock went up my arm as one of her swords grazed me, my armour taking the blow. I stepped back around one of the pillars, my right hand going to the sheath at my belt, turning sideways so my body hid the movement. Ji-yeong followed, slightly off-balance from the angle.

This time as she stepped in so did I. Her arm hit my shoulder and I caught it; Ji-yeong was just starting to pull back as my right hand came up in a flash of steel. The knife cut deep, severing tendons, and her hand spasmed open, sword clattering to the stone as she broke away.

Ji-yeong caught her balance and we stared at each other. Blood welled from the ugly wound at her wrist, running down her now-useless fingers and dripping to the bricks. Without taking my eyes off her I stepped to the side and bent to pick up her discarded sword, then flicked the blood from my knife and returned it to its sheath.

As I did, I noticed the blood had stopped dripping from Ji-yeong’s fingers. Green light glowed about her wrist; the gash narrowed and closed, skin and vein and tendon reknitting. In only a few seconds her arm was whole again. She flexed her fingers experimentally, then shook off the blood and switched her remaining sword back to her right hand.

I hate fighting life mages.

“Nice trick,” Ji-yeong said flatly.

I lunged. Ji-yeong’s sword parried mine with a clang, slashing back at me as I leant away from the riposte. She was fighting at full strength now, and from her stance it was clear she’d finally started taking me seriously.

Our swords clashed again and again, footsteps stuttering on the stone. The sea breeze whirled around us, carrying away the smell of blood and sweat. Now that our weapons were matched, my longer reach let me slash Ji-yeong across the forearm and knee. Blood welled up, but the gashes in her skin healed almost as fast as I could inflict them. I moved in . . . and this time Ji-yeong came in to meet me, sword thrusting low. My precognition showed me a brief agonising vision of the sword ramming through my armour and into my stomach, and I threw myself desperately to one side, aborting my attack. The blow clipped me, spinning me off balance, and I hit the ground hard, rolling and coming back to my feet before Ji-yeong could follow up.

“You’re good,” Ji-yeong said. She wasn’t even out of breath. “You did beat Darren, didn’t you?”

This isn’t working. Ji-yeong could heal herself; I couldn’t. None of her attacks had gotten through my armour, yet I was more hurt than she was.

But even life magic has limits. If I could hurt Ji-yeong badly enough I could take her out of the fight, force her to shut her body down to heal. A sword or knife wasn’t going to cut it. I needed really excessive force.

Ji-yeong attacked again, slashing and stabbing. I gave ground, nicking her once or twice, but this time she didn’t even slow down. The fight had moved away from the pillars and Ji-yeong used her speed to put herself between them and me, forcing me towards the cliff. I let Ji-yeong drive me back towards the edge.

Five steps to the edge, four. My arms ached from the strikes, and sweat dripped into my eyes. Three steps, two steps, and I held my ground, aware of the sheer drop behind me. Ji-yeong didn’t let up, striking again and again, trying to push me back over the edge. Her blade slipped past my guard and I had to block with my forearm, the impact sending a shock up the bone.

My next parry was at an awkward angle, and with a ring of metal the sword spun from my hand. I jumped left as the sword clanged to the stone, only a foot or two from the edge. Ji-yeong moved to block my path to the sword as I circled around.

Now Ji-yeong was the one with her back to the drop. The classic move at this point would be to kick her off and send her falling to the stone below, but that was clearly exactly what she was expecting and she was holding herself low and braced, making herself a difficult target. Staying low, Ji-yeong edged towards where the sword lay, one inch at a time. Her foot came up against the blade with a click, but she didn’t take her eyes off me. I didn’t move. Ji-yeong crouched down, reaching for the sword with her left hand. Her fingers closed around the hilt.

I charged, left hand slipping into my pocket. Ji-yeong straightened in a flash, coming side-on to make herself a difficult target, but I didn’t slow down. If someone knows you’re coming and has time to brace themselves, then pushing or kicking them off a ledge is really hard.

Tackling them off, though . . . that’s easy. As long as you don’t mind coming along for the ride.

I slammed into Ji-yeong at full speed. Her sword flashed up and pain flared along my face, but I was heavier than her and my momentum carried us both over the edge. When you fall your first reaction is to grab something and Ji-yeong’s arms went reflexively for me, but her fingers were locked around her swords and the blades scraped off my armour. We fell apart, accelerating, and with my left hand I snapped the item I’d drawn from my pocket.

Life rings look like small hoops of metal and glass, woven in a twisted circle. As the ring broke the spell within it activated, expanding to engulf me in a bubble of air magic. The spell lightened my body, steadying my motion, and suddenly I wasn’t accelerating anymore, just sinking at a steady rate of ten feet per second. I started carrying life rings after an incident a couple of years ago involving a burning building; when you have to make a quick exit from somewhere high up, it’s useful to be able to fall like a feather.

Ji-yeong didn’t have a life ring. She fell like a rock.

A human body hitting a hard surface makes a very distinctive sound, a kind of snap-thud. The impact drives the breath from the lungs so there’s no shout or cry. I landed a few seconds later, touching down gently; the life ring’s magic lingered a moment longer, then dissolved into the air. One of Ji-yeong’s swords had bounced towards the wall. I picked it up, testing the edge to make sure it hadn’t been dulled or chipped, then walked over.

Ji-yeong had fallen forty feet onto flat stone: crippling if not fatal for a normal human. Life mages are tougher, but even so they’ve got their limits. Ji-yeong was lying flat, legs twisted in a way that suggested multiple broken bones, struggling to breathe. In my mage’s sight, trails of green energy twined frantically around her body and limbs: I couldn’t make out the details but I knew what they were doing. I leant over and placed the point of the sword under Ji-yeong’s chin.

Ji-yeong’s eyes came open, hazy with pain. “I know you can regenerate from that,” I told her. “Try anything and I’ll drive this sword through your jaw and into your brain. Clear?”

Ji-yeong had to try a few times before she managed to speak. “Okay,” she said in a raspy voice. She had to keep her head still to stop the point of the blade from breaking the skin.

I straightened up, moving the sword away. “Where’s Anne?”

“Windmill,” Ji-yeong said with difficulty. “Crystal.”

“That was where she was then. What about now?”

“Don’t know . . . Crystal . . . moving her. Sam’s shadows.”

“Through a gateway?”

“Doesn’t have gate stones . . . Foot.”

“To where?”

“Keep.”

That had been more than half an hour ago. Even on foot, Crystal would be back at the keep by now. “How much does Sagash know?”

“He doesn’t.”

I dipped the sword towards her. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re telling me none of this showed up on the sensors?”

“Crystal messed with them.” Ji-yeong’s words were clearer now; she’d already begun to recover. “I looked. There wasn’t any proof, that was why . . .”

Why you wanted to take me back instead. Yeah, you might not want to remind me of that little detail. “Where’s Sagash?”

“His lab. He went in after he got back from the party.”

“What’s he working on?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t tell us about research. Stays in there for days. Doesn’t tell us why.”

Ji-yeong was watching me closely, holding very still. I couldn’t sense any deception, and from the futures it looked as though she was going to cooperate, at least for now. Blood was dripping from my chin; that last slash had scored along my cheek. I brushed it off, leaving a messy red streak along my hand. “Crystal found us. How?”

“A focus. Time magic. She didn’t—”

“Where in the keep is she taking Anne?”

“I don’t know—”

“Bullshit. Maybe Crystal didn’t trust you with her plans, but you’re smart and bored and you just told me you had nothing better to do than figure out what they were up to. Give me your best guess.”

Ji-yeong hesitated. I twitched the sword again. “All right,” she said. “Wait. The sub-basement.”

“Where?”

“The northeast corner. There’s a backup—Sagash used it, for experiments, before he moved up to the second floor. It’s got the most defences.”

“What kind?”

“Shadows. Fixed attack wards. And barriers, and locks.”

And Crystal and Darren and Sam behind them. I felt a sinking feeling. I couldn’t get through that.

I looked down at Ji-yeong. I don’t know what she saw in my face, but it made her flinch. Her cuts had all stopped bleeding and she was breathing smoothly again, but she couldn’t move, not yet. “Who else is in the keep?”

“I don’t know about anyone else. I swear.”

“Are we going to have any more trouble?”

Ji-yeong hesitated. “No?” she said at last. She sounded as though she was hoping very hard that was the right answer.

I looked down at Ji-yeong a second longer, then turned and ran, heading towards the stairs up and the long winding path that would take me back up to the castle.

I kept running until I found an empty building, then hid in the shadows and path-walked, sending my future self racing back the way I’d come.

Nothing. The windmill was empty. I couldn’t find any trace of Crystal or Anne, and Darren and Sam were gone as well. The skies above the castle were clear. Everything I could find confirmed what Ji-yeong had already told me: They were back in the keep.

Fear and worry nagged at me but I pushed them back, trying to focus. Crystal had Anne. What was she going to do with her?

She’d want to use her in her ritual, the same one that Vitus Aubuchon had been midway through when we’d stopped him the last time. I didn’t know what details Crystal might have added or changed, but I was absolutely sure that it would end with Anne’s death.

How fast would Crystal do it?

I had the ugly suspicion that it would be soon. So far, Crystal had kept this whole scheme a secret from Sagash. Doing all this right under Sagash’s nose in his own shadow realm could not have been easy. No matter how good Crystal was at double-dealing, she’d want to finish this quickly, before Sagash caught her out.

And that meant I didn’t have long. Hours, maybe.

What was I going to do?

I paced, walking back and forth in the shadows. My bruises from the fight still ached, and pain pulsed from the shallow gash along my face. I could fight my way into the keep, try to break Anne out. It was the classical heroic thing to do, and it was pretty much guaranteed to fail. If I was strong enough to take them all on by myself, Anne wouldn’t have been captured in the first place.

I could sneak in. Bypass the shadows, find Anne . . . except that finding Anne would also mean finding Crystal. All that would achieve would be to start a fight in the heart of Sagash’s fortress. And again, inevitably, I’d lose.

I made a sound of frustration, putting a hand to my forehead. No matter how I weighed the odds, I couldn’t see how I could win this. On one side was me, and maybe Anne if I could find her. On the other side was Crystal, Sagash, Sagash’s apprentices, Sagash’s constructs, and God only knew what else. This was his place of power, where he was strongest.

I could try to call in help from the Council. This was exactly the proof that Sonder had been looking for, and if I could get the message out that Crystal was here, then the Keepers would force their way into this castle if they had to burn down the whole shadow realm to do it. But to get a message out, and convince the Keepers I was telling the truth, and have them get in here . . . even if I could do it, it would take too long. By the time the Keepers arrived Crystal would be gone, and Anne would be dead. If I wanted to help her I’d have to do it myself.

But how?

Maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. I couldn’t beat Sagash and Crystal with brute force, but that’s not what I’m good at anyway. What did I have going for me?

Knowledge. I knew that Crystal had been behind all this from the beginning. She must have been watching Anne, using her pawns to operate at a distance, staying hidden away in Sagash’s shadow realm where she was safe. The last time Crystal had done this, she’d abducted targets from the Light apprentice program, and she’d drawn the Council’s anger. She’d learnt from her mistakes; this time she’d waited until Anne was out of the program and alone.

But she hadn’t done it with Sagash’s help. If Sagash had bent his full power towards capturing Anne, he could have done it faster and better. Crystal would have known that, yet she’d kept it secret from him.

She wouldn’t have done that without a reason . . . and I had a suspicion of what that reason might be. The technique Crystal and Vitus Aubuchon had worked out had never been designed for sharing. Crystal might have some sort of research agreement with Sagash, but she wanted to keep the rewards to herself.

Sagash probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.

Maybe I didn’t need to break Anne out. Maybe I just needed to break in.

I walked out of the shadows to the doorway, where the sunlight painted a yellow-gold box on the stone, then knelt on the floor and started going through my pockets. I could probably find an entry to the keep with just my divination given time, but time was something I didn’t have—I needed to get in, and fast. What did I have that would help?

I was still carrying Ji-yeong’s shortsword. It looked like a low-power dispelling focus, probably designed to cut through energy shields like Darren’s and Sam’s. It hadn’t been much use against my armour, but it should work fairly well against the shadows. I set it to one side.

My dispelling and stun focuses I set aside without a second glance. Glitterdust, ditto. Two forcewalls, two condensers, a healing salve . . . I should patch up that slash, the bleeding would be annoying. I unscrewed the jar and smeared the paste along my cheek where Ji-yeong’s blade had cut me; it stung and itched. I closed the jar and went back to searching.

Combat knife, microlight, picks, my phone, Darren’s phone. I went to the pocket with my other one-shots. Signaller. Flash flare. Three gate stones. Pouch filled with . . . dispersion dust? Why do I even carry this stuff? Trail pouch. Probes. Alabaster cat—how did that get there? That’s right, I’d stuck it in my pocket while talking to Luna a few days ago. Designed to summon cats, but it worked on dogs . . .

. . . would it work on other canines too?

I stared down at the little alabaster figurine, looking into the future to see what would happen if I used it. Minutes stretched out. Nothing . . . There! A flash of excitement went through me and I focused on the figurine, channelling my magic through it.

Calling an intelligent creature is harder than calling an animal. A summoning focus doesn’t have the power to compel; the most it can do is send an invitation. I kept the flow of magic to a thread, a gentle suggestion, and waited.

Five minutes passed, ten. I stayed sitting on the stone floor. After a while, I closed my eyes.

The flicker of space magic came from my left, then to the right. A pause, then it came again, alternating between directions. The switches were irregular, unpredictable. I knew I was being watched and didn’t move, letting my observer get a good look. At last I spoke. “I’d like to make a deal.”

No answer. I opened my eyes to see the blink fox half hidden behind one of the pieces of machinery. Hidden in the shadows, its reddish coat looked grey, and its pointed muzzle was tilted down to the stone. Amber eyes reflected the daylight back at me, sharp and watchful.

I moved around to face it, keeping my motions slow and careful. The fox tracked my movements, unblinking. “I know you can understand me,” I said. “I’m guessing you’re wondering if this is some sort of trap and I’m here to catch you. I’m not. I’m a mage from the outside world, from London . . . come to think of it, you might not know where London is. Never mind. Point is, I’m trying to get out of here, along with my friend, and I could use some help.”

The fox didn’t respond. “I’m guessing you aren’t especially thrilled to be here,” I said. “Sagash’s apprentices want to catch you . . . or recatch you? Whichever, I’m sure there’s a reason you’re not hanging out with them. And I doubt this castle is all that nice a place to live. It’s kind of lonely and I imagine you get a bit sick of pigeons. If I get back outside, I could take you with me. Once you got through to the other side of the portal, you could blink off and go wherever you liked. Not like anyone could catch you, once you had space to run.”

No answer. “So?” I said. “Interested?”

The fox looked at me.

“Is that a yes or a no? Help me out here.”

Silence.

“Okay, I know you can’t talk, but could you give me some kind of feedback? Bark once for yes, twice for no, that kind of thing?”

The fox gave me a look.

“Fine, no barking. All right, let’s try this another way . . . I’m guessing you’re at least a little interested in getting out of this shadow realm. If you’re not, then just walk off.”

The fox turned its head towards the shadows, paused a moment, then turned back to me again.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Will you help me out?”

No response.

“What’s the problem—you don’t think you’re getting offered enough? Well, while we’re here there’s not much I can give you, but . . . I could give you a place to stay, if that’s what you’re looking for. Might even be able to help you find some others like you. You’re not the only blink fox out there.”

Again the fox didn’t move, not obviously, but something about its posture looked a little more alert. “So what do you say?” I asked.

There was a pause, then the fox trotted forward, emerging from the shadows and into the light. It moved with the trotting, doglike-catlike gait of city foxes, agile and quick. Now that I could see it clearly I was surprised at how big it was. Orange-red fur covered its back and sides, becoming dusty towards the haunches; the ears, legs, and tail were black with reddish patches, and splashes of white covered its throat, undermuzzle, and tail tip. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could make out a few traces of blood in the white fur of its throat. It sat, tail curled around its feet, and watched me.

“So, I’m Alex Verus,” I said. “Want to shake paws?”

The fox gave me a look.

“Just offering. Okay. I need to get into the central keep.”

The fox gave a sharp exhale-sneeze and gave its head a quick shake.

“I know it’s not exactly a safe plan. I’m kind of short on options.”

The fox looked in the direction of the front gate.

“Wouldn’t work, there’s a squad of shadows guarding it. Besides, I’m not just looking out for myself. I need to get my friend out too.”

Head tilt.

“She’s a human mage, female. You saw her a couple of days ago. She’s Sagash’s enemy as well.”

Tail flick, another look towards the gates.

“No, I’m not leaving her behind. I promised I’d help get you out, remember? Same goes for her. I don’t leave people behind if I can help it.”

The fox tilted its head, seemed to be thinking about it, then twitched its ears.

“So like I said, I need to get into the keep. Can you get me in?”

The fox seemed to consider for a moment, then blinked.

“Is that a yes?”

Blink.

“One for yes, two for no, right?”

Blink blink.

“Wait, what?”

The fox let its tongue pant out. It looked like it was grinning.

“A blink fox who’s a troll. Great.” I stood up, wincing a little at the stiffness in my muscles. The fox watched but didn’t jump back. “You ready to go?”

I set out southwest towards the keep. The fox trotted behind at a distance.

I spent most of the trip thinking about Richard.

It had been more than ten years since I’d seen Richard in the flesh, but it felt like less. Last year I’d made a couple of ill-advised trips to Elsewhere, viewing the past through Rachel’s eyes. It had been there that I’d learnt why Richard had vanished all those years ago—he’d used a blood sacrifice to open a gateway to another world. Leaving Rachel in charge of his estate, he’d disappeared . . . until now.

Why had he come back? I didn’t even know enough to make an educated guess. I’d never really understood Richard—what he wanted, what kind of person he was, what his ambitions were. The ease with which he’d been able to find the two of us had shaken me. If he’d wanted us dead or captured, he could have done it without lifting a finger.

But he hadn’t. He’d offered us a chance to join him, and walked away. Why?

No matter how I thought about it, the only answer that made any sense was that he’d meant it. He really had been offering us the opportunity to join his team. And when we’d said no, he’d let us go . . . leaving the door open for the future.

His last words had been next time. Richard could be a lot of things, but one thing I’d never known him to be was inefficient. If he did something, it was for a reason. And that meant that he thought next time, I might say yes.

The thought of that was so terrifying that I almost didn’t want to get out of the castle. Crystal was dangerous, Sagash was deadly, but both of them put together didn’t scare me even half as much as Richard did. Crystal was a known quantity—she was a plotter and I wasn’t going to underestimate her, but I’d beaten her once before. And while Sagash might be pretty terrifying in his inhuman way, he didn’t have much reason to notice me. Richard did.

And then there was the lurking fear underneath: that Richard’s offer had been our only way out. That by saying no, I’d guaranteed that neither of us would get out alive. The plan I had in mind was very dicey. If it didn’t work, then my choice to turn Richard down might end up being the biggest mistake I’d ever made . . . and one of the last.

Well, at least if I get killed doing this I won’t have to deal with Richard afterwards. That’s a plus.

I’d make a really bad suicide counsellor.

I shook it off and kept walking. One way or another, this would be over soon.