THE HOURS that followed in silence were agony. The two of them didn’t speak again. Hunter couldn’t bring himself to give the boy any more comfort even though he knew he should, and Uri clearly needed it. Hunter was too heartsick, too angry, and too worried for Dax to muster up the strength and put it all aside. Uri eventually curled up on the bed and fell asleep while Hunter sat on the floor and stared at the walls.
He must have fallen asleep himself for a time, because his eyes sprung open when he heard the latch on the door.
Quinnar, Zinnuvial, and Corrad moved into the room as Hunter crawled to his feet. The three of them looked haggard, exhausted. Even Corrad, for all his conceit and bullishness, seemed defeated. He leaned against the doorjamb, blocking most of the light from the hall outside, looking sulky and hostile. Quinnar stepped into the center of the room, thumbs tucked into the front of his belt. He didn’t waste any time on pretense, and Hunter could see on his face the news was not good. He had the look of a man who’d lost everything.
“We’ve received word from our sources inside. Dax has been captured. They knew he was coming.”
The room seemed to shrink as a raw stillness filled the space between them like a toxic cloud. He forced himself not to look in the direction of the bed, at Uri. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not that Uri was asleep and hadn’t heard the news.
“I knew you’d want to know,” Quinnar added as he turned to leave. Corrad and Zinnuvial moved to follow him.
“But he’s alive,” Hunter prodded.
Quinnar nodded, hand on the latch. “For now. His public execution is being arranged. For as early as tomorrow.”
“The imposter made an unscheduled appearance on the balcony,” Zinnuvial said. “Likely to send a message to us that the mission had failed and that she was still alive.”
“What are you going to do?”
“My hands are tied, Hunter. There isn’t anything we can do,” Quinnar said.
No. That wasn’t acceptable. “Someone has to go in there and rescue him.”
“That is not possible.”
“You’re just going to sit with your thumb up your ass while he’s executed?”
Anger flashed behind Quinnar’s eyes as he took a hard step closer to Hunter. “I will not risk more people. Not even for him. Our losses this day have been too great already.” His lower lip trembled as he spoke. This decision to leave Dax to his fate was shredding away at his insides.
Hunter understood. But he wasn’t about to accept it. He closed his eyes and pulled in a breath. “Then I’ll do it.”
The words spilled out of his mouth before he was consciously aware of it. His heart rate quickened. He knew he was being impulsive and stupid. But why wouldn’t he volunteer? How many times had Dax saved his life? Hunter owed him at least that.
But from a dark corner of his mind, Hunter knew he wasn’t being fully honest with himself. That wasn’t the real reason. He needed an answer. He needed to look Dax in the eye and ask why he came to him last night.
From the doorway, Corrad made a low grunt of a laugh.
“You?” Quinnar replied with genuine surprise.
He rested his thumb and forefinger on his hipbones and stared at the floorboards a moment. What the fuck was he doing? “Tell me how to get in there. And I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Zinnuvial shook her head. “You’ll be captured or dead before you step one foot into the castle yard.”
Corrad shrugged. “Let the dolt try. All the better, I say. He gets himself killed, problem solved.”
Quinnar threw him a stern glare to silence him. “Zinnuvial is right. You wouldn’t make it past the outer walls. Every inch of the perimeter will be watched. Dax was skilled at such matters, and we can see what happened to him.”
Only because someone was tipped off, Hunter thought. “How did Dax get in?”
“Scaled the south wall,” Zinnuvial said.
Hunter couldn’t hide his surprise. “He climbed it?”
Zinnuvial nodded.
They were right about that, at least. He’d never be able to do that. Not without a grappling hook and rope anyway—and that would be rather conspicuous. “Well, no place is impenetrable. There has to be another way in.”
The three of them seemed to stiffen, and Hunter felt some cryptic communication pass between them. Corrad raised his eyebrows at Zinnuvial. “Tell him,” he prodded with a sinister grin.
Quinnar looked annoyed. “We’ve been over this. A thousand times.”
Hunter felt the spark of hope renew in his gut. “I’m right, aren’t I. You know of a way in.”
Zinnuvial sighed, clearly reluctant. “There may be. It has not been tried.”
“I’m listening,” Hunter replied.
Quinnar shook his head. “This will only serve to get you killed.”
“I’ll decide for myself, thank you,” Hunter said. “Tell me.”
Zinnuvial put her hands on her hips and looked at the floor. “Water from the river is diverted through a conduit underneath the castle. It’s their source for clean water and for removing waste. Some have speculated a person could swim through it to get inside.”
“The conduit entrance is far west at the outskirts of city,” Quinnar added. “It’s there to prevent soiled water from the city contaminating their supply. We’ve calculated the distance, Hunter. It’s too far for one person to traverse underwater.”
“No other access points along the way?”
“None that we’ve found,” Quinnar replied.
“If there are any, they are a safely guarded secret,” Zinnuvial added. “The designers must have anticipated the potential threat.”
Corrad leaned in with a grin. “And there is no guarantee there aren’t any metal grates blocking access along the way or if the conduit is even wide enough throughout. It might narrow or break up into smaller pipes. No one knows.”
Hunter wasn’t small, certainly. But with all the cooking, cleaning, and bathing happening within the walls, the water needs of the castle would be extensive. It stood to reason that the conduit in would be big enough to sustain those needs.
“Even if the trajectory was clear and unobstructed, you’d never be able to hold your breath long enough,” Quinnar said.
Hunter paced the small room, a hard stone sitting low in his stomach. The very notion of this was terrifying. It roused his greatest fear—getting trapped in some dark and tiny space. Happening underwater was an additional bonus horror. This would send him into a panic attack for sure. But he wasn’t about to let Dax go to the gallows without attempting to spring him first, and this sounded like the only way to get in undetected. Dax had saved his skin how many times now? It was high time he returned the favor.
The others were right, though. Thinking he could hold his breath that long was foolhardy and suicidal. He had a decent lung capacity, but certainly not anything Olympian. And he wasn’t exactly the epitome of grace in the water. But there had to be a way to make it through that distance.
Something caught his eye on the shelf loaded with supplies. Sitting atop a crate was an empty leather wineskin. Hunter picked it up, pulled off the stopper, and blew into it. The bladder swelled up and Hunter quickly pushed in the cork stopper to keep it inflated.
Watertight also meant airtight.
“How many of these can you get me?” he asked. “Large ones.”
The three stared back at him.
“How many?” he asked again. “I have an idea.”