Chapter 16
I snatch up the contents of the draw, slam it shut, and tear up the stairs after my crew. Heart pounding like a bio engine, I dive behind the machine crates as the warehouse doors swing wide.
I struggle to silently gasp air through my mouth, convinced the new arrivals can hear my every ragged breath. I close my eyes, trying to hear what is happening above the pounding of my heart. Izzy tries to peer between two crates, but I pull her back quickly in case we are spotted—she screws up her face in annoyance, but doesn’t attempt another look.
It sounds like a small crowd of people enter the building. They close the doors noisily behind them and troop down the stairs. Silence follows, but we don’t dare move from our hiding place.
Fernando settles with his back to a crate and closes his eyes, breathing deeply like someone preparing for a long wait. Scud carefully unfastens his backpack and pulls something out: a knife. The thin and curiously curved blade used to murder Uncle Felix. I have no idea what he thinks he can do with it, but maybe it gives him a sense of security, because he’s turning it over and over in his hands.
Something about the knife tugs at my brain, but I can’t place it. Izzy has spotted something too, because she’s gesturing frantically from Scud’s knife to the stairs. If she thinks she can tackle the newcomers with a single knife, she is sadly mistaken. It will have to wait.
Instead, I study the gold block I’m cradling in the palm of my hand: the contents of the statue’s belly. It is square and thin; I can just hold it in one hand with my fingers around the edges; if I press my fingernail into the surface it leaves a mark—so pure gold, and worth a lot of money. One side is featureless and plain, the other is engraved with two sets of numbers.
I stare at the numbers hoping something will trigger in my brain, but nothing comes to me. Whatever the numbers mean is completely beyond me. Is this it? We travelled all this way just to discover some random numbers? Whatever I was expecting to find it isn’t this. Disappointment sets in and I place the gold square in the pocket of my flight jacket. Maybe the others will have an idea once we return to the Shonti Bloom. Something else that will have to wait.
The people down stairs, who, during my examination of the plaque, were just shuffling around and muttering incoherently, start to chant—some sort of ritual is taking place. I worm my way closer to the stairwell, curious to hear what is going on. Izzy frowns and tries to pull me back, but I fend her off with my boot and eventually she gives up and joins me. Together, we strain to listen.
A single, deep, resonant voice starts speaking. “You have completed your apprenticeship and proven yourself worthy. Do you now wish to join the guild?”
“Yes.” A younger, possibly female, voice answers.
“Do you promise to surrender all your worldly goods, monies, and estates to the guild, living only to serve the will of the mistress?”
“I do.”
“Take your Krys-knife, the symbol and tool of our trade.”
I pull myself gingerly forward, risking a peak over the edge of the stairwell. Izzy joins me.
They have their backs to me, well, five of the robbed and hooded figures do, ranged in a semicircle before the statue of Gaia. The mistress? The sixth has his head bowed. In his hands he holds Scud’s strangely curved knife, which he is offering, with both hands, to a slight figure at the center of the semicircle, the new recruit. The Krys-knife?
Of course: the knife the statue of Gaia is holding is identical to this Krys-knife, exactly like the one Scud pulled out of Uncle Felix. Could these be the murderers?
“Welcome, to the most secretive Guild of Assassins,” the leader intones, and looks up.
Cripes.
There is no hiding from the leader of the assassins. A piggish face with close-set black eyes looks up and our gazes meet. His mouth drops open as he recognizes me.
Borker.
Double cripes. “Run!” I scream, fighting down the panic threatening to overwhelm me. This is all my fault, if I hadn’t crept forward to look the others would have stayed hidden. Now we are all going to die.
I leap to my feet, grab Scud and Izzy, and thrust them towards the main doors. There is no sense heading back to the broken window—we would never all make it through. It has to be the front door or nothing.
“Help me,” Fernando calls. I double back to see him hauling a machine crate towards the stair head. Great idea. I grab the other rope handle and together we launch the crate down the stairs towards Borker and the other assassins leaping towards us. I high-five Fernando as we flee through the warehouse doors, grinning like conspirators—a sudden rush of adrenalin can do that to you. Behind us crashes and shouts echo through the building. But running feet too.
We have to get out of here, but I also need to protect my crew. “Bring the Shonti Bloom to dock 14G and wait for me there,” I instruct, “I’ll head them off.”
“But Nina,” they all protest, and I feel a glow of pride at their concern—at least, I hope that’s the reason. Of course, they could just think I’m incredibly stupid.
“I’ve got the tablet from the statue,” I yell loud enough for the whole world to hear, “you lead them off while I escape with it.”
Fernando, bless him, cottons onto my ruse and drags the others off down some steps.
I stay on the same level, waving the plaque in the air as I run. As I hope, the assassins follow me to retrieve their property, but they are much closer than I anticipated. How am I going to stay alive long enough to reach the Shonti Bloom in dock 14G?