TEN

Goosey, goosey, gander

Whither dost thou wander?

Upstairs and downstairs,

And up and over yonder.

Wren didn’t know how much time had passed while they talked to Mary and Cole. After a while Mary drew Wren over to the far side of the room, where a beautiful wooden bureau stood under a round mirror. “It seems that many Magicians in the city don’t know about Boggen’s horrible research,” she said, taking her burned finger and scraping at the edges of a brick in the wall, “but the Outsiders do. They’ve known for several years that Boggen was testing tainted stardust on his prisoners and have worked to thwart his plans. You must do what you can to help them.” She leaned toward the wall, patiently wiggling the brick out of its place. Wren waited, staring straight in front of her. Despite the invisibility mixture, the mirror revealed Wren’s reflection, down to the look of surprise on her face. She hadn’t known that the magic didn’t extend to mirrors. That could have ended badly.

“Wren,” Mary said as she eased the brick farther out, sending bits of dirt crumbling to the floor. “I’d rather you were back home safe in the Crooked House, but perhaps fate would have it this way for a reason. Nod is full of injustice. Innocent people are suffering. The Wren I know cares about that.”

“I do care about it,” Wren said, and the words came out all wobbly. “I just don’t know if I can do anything.” Her throat felt tight, as though it would tear if she forced the words out. She wanted to tell Mary. Mary might understand. She wanted to scream: I can’t do it! I can’t work the stardust anymore! But if she let that out of the box inside her, who knew what else would come out as well? Instead she worked her mouth wordlessly, watching tears wash paths through the invisibility tincture on her face.

“I believe in you, Wren,” Mary said. “I always have.” Her voice grew soft, and there was a humble note in it that Wren had never heard before. “I’m not able to show it very well. I have probably been too gruff with you. There,” she said as the brick came all the way out. A few moments later a voice whispered through the hole.

“Mary,” it said. “Courage and Peace.”

“Courage and Peace to you as well, Auspex,” Mary said, as though it was a formal greeting. “I have someone to introduce you to.”

But they never got to the introductions. The prison door slammed open, and Wren gave a loud cry of surprise. Mary shoved Wren away from the mirror and then covered her mouth as if it had been she who’d cried out.

“Why, William! You do frighten a woman so. What with your grand entrances and all.” Mary fanned her face with one hand as though overcome with shock and stealthily shoved the brick back in its spot with the others.

William stood in the entryway, his lean form now covered with a strange mix of metal and leather that made him look little like the researcher he was. “Captains!” he whined at the two soldiers hovering in the door behind him. “What is the meaning of this? A code came through that the prisoners had escaped.”

“Crew Member Flint’s keys were stolen.” The fierce captain’s face crumpled worriedly. “And with the report of the broken window, we sounded the alarm. We know your orders were that no one engage with the prisoners.”

“My orders”—William slapped the guard across the face—“my orders are that you not summon me for crew members’ mistakes. Or do you not run a tight ship?” He scoured the room with his gaze. Wren stared at the floor, hoping any tear tracks that might reveal her face would be dismissed as nothing more than a trick of the light. “Are the other prisoners in their cells?”

The two guards shared uneasy glances.

“Go see,” William said in a deadly quiet voice. “Leave. Leave now.”

The two guards scurried out, and William sauntered into the room, plopping down into a seat at the head of the table.

Mary turned back to the mirror, primping her hair as if that was what she had been doing all along. Wren gaped at her. She had never in all her time with the Fiddlers seen Mary primp. Mary puckered her lips as though she had just applied lipstick, but all the while she was working hard to finish putting the brick back into place.

“Go. You and Jack. Get out of here,” she whispered to Wren while William tried to persuade Cole to join him at the table. “Find Auspex in the cell next door. Help the Outsiders. We’ll try to make contact somehow.” With practiced ease, Mary leaned forward, wiping a finger on one lip as if to fix a blemish, and used her skirt to dust the dirt off the loose brick. Then she turned around and glided over to join Cole, who stood planted in front of the fireplace in such a way as to hide the telltale fabric of Jack’s sleeve.

“—haven’t eaten any of Boggen’s feast?” William was saying with a frown. “Now, now, I thought good Alchemists had better manners than that.”

Wren crept quietly toward the open door.

“And I never expected good manners from a traitor,” Mary was saying in a frosty voice. “You’ve hijacked your fellow Alchemists. Allied with Boggen. Imprisoned us. Threatened us”—she wrinkled her nose in distaste—“and you expect us to help you after treating us in such a fashion.” She folded her arms primly across her chest. “I’ve quite lost my appetite. But please, enjoy the welcome of our table. You obviously feel free.”

William reached for a piece of fruit and began peeling it with a slim knife he took from his belt. “Perhaps you could play the part of a princess in the Crooked House, but not here, Mary.” He gave Mary an indulgent smile, and two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. Wren would have bet anything it wasn’t embarrassment but anger that fueled her.

“On Nod, a princess’s charms run thin.” He let his boots drop to the floor with a thud. “Cole. You must see my wisdom. Help me with my research, or you will join my other test subjects. Those are your choices.”

Wren froze, her back pressed up against the wall. She was so close to William she could have reached out and grabbed his leather-clad arm.

“We’ve made our choice,” Cole said in an even voice. “And it hasn’t changed. I would rather die with the prisoners than help you.”

“We’ll see if you feel the same when you reach Boggen’s stronghold. I think you will not find Boggen’s other researchers to be such”—he paused, holding up his knife as if to examine its sharpness—“welcoming hosts.” He gave both of the Fiddlers a wicked-looking grin and moved toward the door. He was looking at Cole when he said this, so he didn’t see the tiny shadow in front of him, the quick flicker of movement that told Wren Jack was on the move. William stumbled, appearing to trip over his own feet. He caught his balance and scowled at the floor.

Wren held her breath. How could Jack be so stupid? To risk exposing them all for a laugh?

She reached out a hand, grabbing in Jack’s direction and making contact. His hand found hers, and she squeezed hard, tugging him toward the open door.

“The stonework there is a bit tricky.” Mary’s too-polite voice was behind them now. “Do take care, William.”

Wren slipped through the open door and pulled Jack around the corner, where they flattened themselves against the wall. William’s guards were out here as well, several of them lingering in the hallway where Jack had picked their pockets. Others were rushing back toward the room with the broken window.

Wren could hear Mary’s firm voice and William’s whiny reply, and then he was there, too, his form blocking out the lights. He slammed the door to Cole and Mary’s prison behind him, the sound of the lock turning soon drowned out by his voice as he called for his guards. “Prepare these two for transport to the stronghold,” he said, ordering the others to join him in the control room.

Wren hardly dared to breathe while the patrols slipped by. A single movement could give them away. All it would take was one observant guard to see a shadow where no shadow should be and their whole plan would be ruined. Luck must have been with them, because the guards were nearly gone, and Jack, for once, didn’t try to pull any stupid pranks. Soon, they were alone in the hallway.

“Did you see him trip?” Jack said with obvious delight. “I would’ve given anything to see him fall flat on his face.”

“You about gave our freedom for it,” Wren said. “The last thing we need is for anything to go wrong. You wait here. Don’t move. I’m serious.”

From the sound of Jack’s soft laughter, Wren wasn’t sure that he cared if she was serious or not, but at least he seemed to be staying put. She slipped over to Auspex’s door, found the right key, turned the lock as silently as possible, and darted into the room, easing the door shut behind her.

Auspex’s quarters weren’t nearly so fine—a plain bed, a small writing desk, a tiny window. The man who must be Auspex was over at the wall, talking to Mary, Wren supposed.

“Hold on,” he said. “Someone’s in here now.”

Wren could hear the low tones of Mary’s voice, the rushed way she spoke. And Auspex himself was nodding, faster and faster. “Yes. Yes. I agree. Very well, Mary. Until we meet again.”

And then Auspex swiveled toward the door. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a gray shirt and pants, with a long leather coat over all. With his pointed beard and thick eyebrows, he looked to Wren like a pirate from a fairy tale.

“Wren?” he asked the wall opposite her.

“Over here,” Wren said, and then realized that wouldn’t do much good. “By the desk.”

He turned in her direction and gave her a half bow. “Courage and Honor, Wren.”

“Um, right. My friend’s outside, and we probably don’t have much time.” Wren meant that Jack was probably about to do something that would get them all caught, but Auspex interpreted it differently.

“Of course,” he said, grabbing a sheaf of papers from the desk drawer and stuffing it into one pocket. Then he moved to the wall opposite and carefully removed another loose brick, pulling something out of the depths and tucking it in his vest pocket.

Wren watched him gather his things, thinking that Boggen really needed to do something about his loose bricks, and then Auspex was ready.

“Very well.” He turned to Wren with a smile. “Lead the way.”

As he turned, she noticed something hanging around his neck, a talisman she had seen before, though she couldn’t recall where. “That symbol,” she said, describing the circular weave of bronze. “What does it mean?”

“This?” Auspex touched the symbol, which showed a bird in flight above a sword. “This represents the Outsider way of life: peace and courage, the two things we most prize.”

“So if someone wears one of those, they’re an Outsider, too?”

“Of course,” Auspex said, listening at the door for a moment and then opening it a crack.

Wren followed him, racking her brain for where she had seen the symbol before. She thought it was from some time back in the Crooked House, but why there? Or had Vulcan been wearing one? She opened her mouth to ask Auspex if he knew Vulcan, but closed it again immediately. Questions for the Outsiders would have to wait. They had taken only two steps outside the prison door when Wren saw that they were in trouble. Jack hadn’t been up to mischief. Wren could see him exactly where she had left him, his gaunt form leaning up against the wall, twiddling his thumbs. Which was exactly the problem. His invisibility mixture was wearing off.

“Wren!” he said, and a look of horror crossed his face. Wren looked down and saw the outline of her own arm.

“We’ve got to move fast.” She grabbed Jack’s elbow and propelled him down the hallway in front of her. Auspex followed behind, somehow moving silently despite their breakneck pace. They were almost back to the room they’d broken in through when Wren realized they had another problem. That room was apparently the control room. She could hear William’s grating voice as they rounded the corner.

Jack came to an abrupt halt. “We’ve got to go back,” he cried, but it was too late. The guard captain from earlier was patrolling the halls and had spotted them. The captain reached for the glowing stardust-tipped spear that was strapped to her back. Before she could raise something that looked like a whistle to her lips, Auspex was on her. He leaped past Jack and Wren, moving quickly and silently, and with one small movement locked the captain’s shoulders in a grip that soon had her melting to the floor, unconscious.

“Or we could do that,” Jack said, exchanging a stunned glance with Wren.

“She will wake after we are gone,” Auspex said. “Though we must find a different exit, yes? Perhaps the roof?”

“I saw stairs earlier,” Jack said, but before they could get out of sight, another patrolman was upon them.

“You two, go!” Auspex ordered, darting toward the guard. “If courage and honor favor us, we will meet again.”

Wren was about to argue, but Jack grabbed her this time, half hauling her toward the stairs. “Are you crazy?” he said. “You think we can do anything to help that guy? He’s practically a ninja.” The stairs wound up and up, tightening in on themselves in a dizzying circle. “I thought Magicians would be different. Like they’d be throwing stardust around as weapons or something.”

As Wren sprinted up the stairs two at a time, she realized that Jack was right on two accounts. First, it would have been foolish to stay and defend someone who was clearly capable of defending himself. They would probably only slow him down.

Second, and perhaps more troubling, was the fact that only one person in that hallway had tried to use stardust, and then only on a spear tip. Anyone looking on might have thought the rest of them couldn’t work the stardust at all. Not burned-out Jack. Not the mysterious Outsider. And certainly not her. She wondered if Simon and the falcons were still out on the roof somewhere. Was he okay, or had he run into trouble, too? Wren worked her legs harder, passing Jack as she pushed the door open to the rooftop and then came to a dead halt.

There were gas lamps blazing on the rooftop, and they showed everything in stark relief. The spindly spires of the city, Jack’s grainy silhouette next to her, and the pair of guards who stood blocking their way.