A shadow shimmered into existence. It was far away, indistinguishable.
“Naji!” I screamed. “Please! I’m not here to hurt you. I wasn’t even trying to find you, I was trying to find Kolur, but I thought of Mama instead—”
The shadow moved closer. No, not a shadow—shadows. Two of them. I fell silent. Blood, swollen with magic, thumped in my ears. I wondered what was happening in the cell. I prayed to the ancestors that Isolfr wouldn’t pull me back.
Distinctions emerged out of the shadows. One was Naji, his dark cloak swirling. The other was a woman, broad-shouldered and voluptuous, her hair a messy tangle piled on top of her head.
Ananna. I recognized her immediately.
“So,” she said as she came into focus, “this is Maia’s daughter.”
I tried to bow, but the flames held me in place. “Captain Nadir?” I whispered.
“That’s what they call me,” she said. “But your mama, she called me Ananna, and so can you. I can see her in you, you know.” She turned to Naji. “Can’t you see it? The eyes? The cheekbones, too.”
Naji made a grunt of affirmation.
“He fetched me as soon as he figured out who it was.” Ananna smiled. She was radiant in the white light, and I saw in her the whole history of my mother and the whole possibility of my name.
“Mama named me after you,” I said.
“She’d damn well better have,” Ananna said. “Only way I was letting her go.”
I smiled.
“Now.” Ananna leaned forward. “I figure you didn’t show up in my ship’s cookstove to chat about your mama.” She frowned. “Did you?”
I shook my head. My panic came back to me in a sudden onslaught. “I was trying to find Kolur. He’s—my apprentice master. We’re trying to fight Lord Foxfollow.”
“Who?” Ananna frowned. “Should I know who that is?”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Isolfr had told me that Ananna had defeated Foxfollow, and that was why I had agreed to help—
But Naji’s face had darkened, and he turned to Ananna and murmured something in her ear.
“Kaol and Emki both,” she said. “How in hell did Maia’s daughter get embroiled in all that?”
“It’s a long story. Mama doesn’t even know. She still thinks Kolur’s a fisherman.”
“A fisher—” Ananna threw up her hands. “You’re in it worse than I was. And I had this one tagging along with me.” She jerked her thumb over at Naji, who rolled his eyes. But then she looked at me again, and I could feel the magic of the Flames of Natuze tugging back and forth between us. “Do you need help? ’Cuz I can get Naji to help you, and I’ll send my fleet your way, if you need it.”
“I’m in the Mists,” I said.
“You’re what?”
Naji frowned at me. “How did you accomplish that?”
“I don’t have time to tell the whole story. We were on our way to Jandanvar—that’s how we were going to get back to our world; it’s a city that exists in both our world and the Mists—and we were caught by a nobleman who’s loyal to Lord Foxfollow, and we’ve been thrown in prison—”
“Stop.” Ananna held up one hand. “Who’s we?”
“Me and Isolfr—he’s a, ah, spirit—and a Mists nobleman named Trystan. We’ve all been thrown in prison, and Kolur and Frida, she’s a witch, they’re in Jandanvar and they’re waiting for us, and I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to cast the Flames of Natuze again. It was hard enough the first time because I couldn’t keep my attention on Kolur.” Heat streaked down my cheeks and I realize it was tears, even though it didn’t feel exactly right. “So I don’t know what to do.”
“Stop right there,” Ananna said. “I get the picture. You’re in it for sure. But why’d you need to contact this Kolur?”
“So he could come—get us, or something.”
“Mmmm. That ain’t a guarantee though. It’d be just as easy to break out of the jail yourself, don’t you think? I’ve done it plenty of times. Your mama too. It’s one of those things you pick up when you’re a pirate.”
Naji made a coughing sound.
“I can’t break out of jail,” I said. “I can’t use my magic. It’ll interact badly with the entrapment spells.”
Ananna gave me a wink. “You don’t need magic to break out of jail.”
“It certainly helps,” said Naji.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Ananna reached over and swiped a hand through his dark hair and Naji looked at her and his eyes glittered like he was smiling. “But this is why I say you learn to do everything without magic. That way—you’ve got your options.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I’m not a pirate. Mama didn’t teach me anything like that! I know how to sail a boat and catch fish and draw on the wind and that’s it.”
Ananna laughed. “This isn’t something you learn. It’s something you do. Just gotta think about it.” She tapped the side of her head. “Trust me. You’ll find your way out. There guards down there with you?”
I nodded. I was starting to feel tired, like my body was pulling apart. I couldn’t hold this magic much longer.
“Good. Guards are just people. That means you can fool ’em easily enough.”
“We’re in the Mists,” I said. “So they aren’t just people.”
“They’re people built of magic,” Naji said. His low, rumbling voice rolled around inside my head. It hadn’t done that before. “If you know magic, you’ll know them.”
“You’re starting to fade out,” Ananna said. “Everything okay?”
“I can’t talk any longer,” I said. My throat was dry and raspy. “I’m sorry. But thank you—thank you for your help—”
“Give Maia my regards,” Ananna said, just as the white Flames of Natuze swam across my vision and enveloped me whole.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I sucked in a long draft of cold, damp air. Someone was shouting my name.
“Ananna?” I muttered. “Captain Nadir?”
“Hanna! Look at me!”
The world was dark. After the brightness of the Flames of Natuze, I couldn’t make out anything but heavy, blurred shadows. I was still reeling from my conversation with Ananna. I had spoken to her. And she hadn’t looked down on me or told me I wasn’t worthy of her name. In fact, she gave me advice.
“Hanna!”
With a jolt, I recognized Isolfr’s voice, and I turned my head toward him. He was kneeling beside his cell door, reaching through the bars.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, but he was too far away to hear.
“Hanna?” He pressed his face against the bars and squinted at me. “Oh, thank the ancestors, her eyes are open!”
“Good,” came a voice a few cells away. Trystan.
I pushed myself up onto my arm. The dungeon spun around. The magic I’d used to activate the Flames of Natuze was still lingering inside my veins, churning with power.
“Did you speak with them?” Isolfr asked. “What did they say?”
It took me a moment to remember that Isolfr was not asking about Ananna and Naji, but about Frida and Kolur. I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face. I felt as if I’d been asleep for a long time. Days, weeks, years. But the guard’s chair was still empty, and the extinguished torches hadn’t been relit. The light in my cell was dim and hazy—the torch I’d used to cast the spell had burned and solidified into black stone.
“No,” I said.
“No?” Isolfr frowned. “But you were in the flames for so long! The spell worked. I saw it.”
“It didn’t take me to Kolur and Frida.” I looked at him through the bars. His eyes were on me, heavy with concern. His expression made my bloodstream spark in a way that had nothing to do with magic. “I spoke with Ananna though. Ananna of the Nadir.”
“Who?” said Trystan, voice rebounding off the dripping stone walls.
“Will she help us?” Isolfr asked.
I shook m
y head. Isolfr slumped back, looking defeated, but I didn’t share his pessimism. She’d told me that I just needed to be like her. I just needed to live up to my name.
Easier said than done.
“We can get ourselves out,” I said. “And then run across the border into Jandanvar. Once we’re there, Kolur and Frida can collect us, right?” I tilted my head to the left, where I assumed Trystan was imprisoned. “Do you know how far it is?”
“A day’s walk,” Trystan said.
“We’ll never make it,” Isolfr said.
“Through the woods,” Trystan added. “We’d have cover of foliage, if the two of you know how to handle such things.”
“We don’t have that much time, either,” I said. “Isolfr, you could fly us.”
“No,” said Trystan sharply. “Lord Foxfollow would expect that. He’ll have spells cast to feel if Isolfr transforms into the north wind—that effect would ripple all over the Garrowglass estate. No. Absolutely not.”
I pressed my face against the cell bars. They were cold and damp, like everything else in this place. For the first time I felt as if these lands deserved the name the Mists.
A hopeless silence settled around the dungeon.
“Or . . . ,” Trystan said. “Or—I might know a way. To get us there quickly.”
Isolfr shifted in the shadows. “What is it?” He hadn’t protested Trystan’s warnings about the threat of him turning into the north wind, and I didn’t blame him. Not when we were in the world where Foxfollow gained his strength.
“Lord Gallowglass keeps moon horses. I’ve got a touch with the creatures, and they don’t harbor loyalties to their owner. I might be able to convince one to fly us into Jandanvar.”
“A moon horse?” The name sounded familiar, and at first I couldn’t place it—but then I remembered a flash of silver in the stable back at the inn in Amkal City.
“The winged horses of Argent Island. Lord Gallowglass collects them, the poor things. They’re always happy to rebel when they can.”
“You’re both ignoring the obvious,” Isolfr said. “Even with the moon horses, we still have to get ourselves out of the dungeon. Without magic. You’re skipping over the hardest part.”
“Ananna said we should trick the guards,” I told him. “She said that if guards are people, then they can be tricked.” I paused, remembering her smile as she’d spoken to me, indulgent like Mama’s when I was first learning how to tie ropes on board Papa’s boat. “And that the guards here are people made of magic, so we can know them well.”
Trystan snorted in his cage. “Not the highest kind of magic,” he said. “Not if they’re just guards.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Isolfr said. “It doesn’t matter what sort of magic they are. We won’t be able to trick them—”
A door clanged open at the top of the stairs.
Isolfr went pale and silent and dropped away from his bars. I could just see him in the shadows, two eyes sometimes glinting with white light.
I stayed where I was, despite the pounding in my heart. I needed to watch the guards. I needed to study them, figure out their weaknesses. I needed to be like Ananna.
Footsteps, the jangle of keys. It was frightening how easily those sounds became routine. The guards’ distorted silhouettes danced across the walls, announcing their entrance; a few seconds later, the guards themselves appeared. They were different from the men the other day. Two of them again, one balancing three trays of food on his arms.
“Morning, morning!” the free-handed guard shouted. “Wake up. Another day in the dungeon. Lord Foxfollow will be arriving later this afternoon, and Lord Gallowglass wants you well-rested.”
A tray of gray porridge slid through my cell door. It was lumpy and unappealing, but I lost my appetite, small as it was, at the mention of Lord Foxfollow’s name.
He would be here today.
I did not have time to formulate a clever plan, like one Ananna would have invented.
I pulled my tray over and stared down at the congealing, unappetizing porridge, fighting back tears. The guard finished distributing breakfast and sat down in the guard’s chair. The other one leaned up against the wall, fingering the hilt of his sword. They looked bored.
I took a raggedy breath. All wasn’t lost yet—Foxfollow would be here this afternoon, and the guards had made it clear it was morning. I still had time. And so I studied them, looking for clues, for weak points, for anything.
I noticed that they both had keys glinting at their sides, but I didn’t know what to do with that observation. I knew I couldn’t use magic to draw the keys to myself; the dungeon would stop me before I retrieved them. Same with casting a spell on the guards, something to make them pliable and weak.
Ananna was right. I couldn’t use magic. I’d have to use my wits.
I stirred my porridge around, trying to decide what to do. If I had something I could use as a weapon, I could lure the guards into my cell, then grab the keys, free the others, and run. But I needed a weapon.
Nothing on the tray would work. Not that I would have expected it to. The guards weren’t that stupid.
I pretended to eat, spooning the porridge up to my mouth, one eye on the guards. They were too wrapped up in their conversation, their voices a dull murmur, to pay me any mind. One of them chuckled.
I set my spoon down, glanced around my cell.
And then I saw it.
The torch.
The torch, transformed by the Flames of Natuze into shiny black stone. I had a weapon in my cell.
I scuttled backward a few finger widths at a time, dragging the tray with me. One of the guards glanced over at my cell but didn’t say anything, and a heartbeat later he turned back to the other guard. They both laughed.
My spine hit up against the wall. I was wrapped in the dungeon’s dark shadows, and the light of those few torches burned a world away. I ate another bite of porridge, just in case. The guards didn’t look at me. I crawled over to the torch.
It lay on the floor, blending into the dungeon’s dark stone. I turned my back to the guards so I could pick it up, shielding my actions with my body. The transformed torch was heavier than the original had been. The stone was smooth and cool, as if it had been polished like a gem. I tried to imagine using it, slamming the torch down on the back of the guard’s head, but I couldn’t. My mind went blank at the thought.
But I knew I had to try.
Trembling, I folded the torch up in the skirts of my dress. Then I crawled back over to my bowl of porridge and ate another couple of bites. I might as well have been eating sand. The porridge felt like sand in my stomach, too, heavy and sludgy and weighing me down.
The guards weren’t look at me.
I was dizzy with fear.
I hurled my spoon against the floor so it made a great clatter, and then I screamed.
I screamed, and I grabbed at my side and slumped over, howling and shrieking. I didn’t dare look at the guards directly, but I heard the jangle of their keys.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, girl?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know!” I wailed. “It just started hurting!” I squeezed my eyes shut.
Footsteps on the stone. I rolled over the floor, digging my hands into my side. “For the love of the ancestors, help me!” I lifted my head, hair already stringy with sweat—it came from fear, not pain, but the guards wouldn’t know that.
They stood in front of my cell door gaping at me. A smear of silver flashed behind them. Isolfr.
“Was it poisoned?” I shrieked.
“Was what poisoned?” asked one of the guards.
“The porridge!” I rolled over onto my back. “You tricked me! What about the others!”
“The others are fine,” the guard said. “Stop screaming.”
“She looks pretty bad,” the other said. “You know it wouldn’t do to have her die before his lordship arrives.”
I screamed again, louder this time.
Th
e first guard didn’t answer.
“I’m going in,” the second said. “What’s she going to do? She can’t use magic down here.”
“She can’t use some magic,” the first said. “Lord Gallowglass has never been exactly thorough—”
“You’re being a coward. It’s just a girl.”
I moaned and shrieked and clutched at my side. The keys jangled in the lock and my heart raced and sweat prickled through my clothes. I twisted around on the floor so I could draw my other hand across my body and easily grab hold of the torch.
“Now, tell me what’s the matter.” The guard’s footsteps stopped. I rolled over, gazed up at him. My vision was hazy. He crouched down, put a hand on my forehead. “Elex, she’s soaked in sweat. Go fetch the physician to tend to her. You know we can’t bring them dead.”
I screamed again, rolled over onto my side. The first guard hung back in the doorway, frowning. If he would leave, I’d only have to attack one—
The kind one. The one who’d come in to check on me. I reminded myself he only did it because he couldn’t bring me dead to Lord Foxfollow.
“Fine,” the first said.
“You don’t want Foxfollow angry with you,” the second said.
“I said I would go.” He whirled around and stomped out of the dungeon.
“We’ll see what’s wrong,” the guard said in a low, comforting voice. “Don’t you worry.”
His kindness was clanging and harsh. I hated myself, and I hated the reason behind that kindness. I knew, too, that I couldn’t waste any more time. The echoes of the first guard’s footsteps had faded. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone.
I tightened my fingers around the torch.
I took one last look at the guard, measuring how far I needed to swing to hit the back of his head.
And then I attacked.
It happened so fast that it felt like a dream. I swung the torch out and for a moment it was whistling through the air and then it stopped, and a sickening jolt ran up my arms. There was a crack like ice breaking. The guard didn’t even cry out, just slumped over on top of me.
Revulsion racked through my body. I threw the torch away in disgust, and it rolled out of my open cell and over to Isolfr, who was staring at me through the bars.