“Exciting.”
“It’s the easiest way in.” Screamerwire was ugly stuff, as thin and easy to break as a cobweb. True to its name, if it was torn, it would shriek loud enough to deafen anyone nearby. Fortunately for would-be thieves, it was rare and fantastically expensive. But Raskos can afford the best. “That’s step two, though.”
“Right,” Kit said, glancing around the chimney at the gap between two buildings. “That first step is a long one.”
“It’s all here,” Gyre said, finishing his checks. “Your eyes ready?”
“Clear as day,” Kit said, pupils huge with the effect of nighteye.
“Keep the neutralizer handy. We don’t know what it’ll look like inside.” Gyre picked up the grapple ball, carefully touching only the metal stick, and shouldered the coil of wire-thin alchemical line. “Let’s go.”
*
Getting into Raskos’ private storehouse was never going to be easy. They’d seen at least two dozen uniformed Auxie guards, on top of the various alchemical and arcana protections. But Raskos’ paranoia worked to their benefit, too. Only a handful of senior officers were allowed inside the building, which meant that if Gyre’s crew got that far unnoticed, they’d be relatively safe.
There were four guards on the roof, walking the edges in two pairs. They carried no lights—presumably they were using nighteye as well—and Gyre had watched them from behind the chimneys until he was sure he had the timing down. Given the size of the building, he had a couple of minutes to slip across, but no longer.
Now he ran for the edge of the roof, Kit following closely behind. The grapple was a simple piece of alchemy—a ball of squishy, gooey stuff that would stick hard to anything it touched, except for a specially treated metal stick. Holding the stick by the free end, Gyre took a running start and whipped the thing around, sending the gooey ball sailing out into the darkness. The alchemical line trailed behind it.
The ball landed on the opposite roof with a soft splat. Gyre gave the line a quick tug to confirm it was stuck fast. He spilled a few drops of glue from a tiny container onto the roof tile at his feet, pressed the near end of the line into it, and stood back. The length of alchemical wire now stretched between the two warehouses, straight and taut.
“You’re sure you can do this?” he said to Kit. “There’s a lot of Auxies down there who are going to be very surprised when you fall on their heads.”
Kit snorted. “Watch and learn, Halfmask.” She stepped out onto the line with one foot, then another, balancing easily.
“Just don’t step on the grapple at the far end,” Gyre said, smiling. “We’d have to cut your foot off to get you out.”
Kit didn’t dignify that with a response. She stepped forward again, a steady walk, the line shifting slightly under her feet. Then she twisted, bending over, and for a heart-stopping moment Gyre thought she was going to fall. Instead, she turned the motion into a tumble, one hand pressing against the line, then the other, executing a perfect cartwheel on a wire-thin bridge over forty meters of darkness.
Plaguing Doomseeker, Gyre thought, but not without a hint of admiration. And, he had to admit, a certain appreciation for the lithe, elegant lines of her body in her well-fitted thief’s gear.
When she’d reached the other side, he started across, doing his best to ignore the buzzing sensation at the pit of his stomach. Wire walking wasn’t his favorite trick, and he certainly wasn’t trying any cartwheels, but he made it.
“Okay,” Gyre whispered. “Low and careful to the trapdoor.”
There wasn’t much cover on the roof, just a few banks of connected chimneys, and Gyre hurried from one to the next as quickly as he could. Kit, padding behind him, was as silent as a cat and just as quick. The trapdoor was a massive thing, iron-banded wood in an iron frame, with no handle on this side.
He activated the anti-screamerwire arcana with a twist and set it down beside the trapdoor, then extracted another couple of vials of Lynnia’s genius from his pouch. The first contained an oily substance that would drip through cracks and coat anything it touched. The second was a catalyst that would turn that oil into a vicious acid. Careful application of the pair was an art, but fortunately it was one that he’d had plenty of practice with in his years as Halfmask. Thin wisps of caustic smoke started to rise as he worked.
“Guards coming,” Kit whispered from behind him. “Must be shift change.”
“Shit.” Gyre looked up and saw two figures approaching from the edge of the roof. Nowhere to hide—
“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”
Kit faded into the shadows, a dark shape that was hard to track even with nighteye. Gyre hunkered down, oil bottle still in hand, watching the pair get closer. It was a man and woman, with spears and pointed helmets. Either they didn’t have nighteye themselves, or they’d already neutralized it, because they ought to have seen him by now—
Silent as a specter, Kit rose behind the woman. Something fast and messy happened at her throat, and she collapsed with only a faint gurgle. At the sound of her body hitting the tiles, the man turned quizzically, and Kit surged forward to meet him, driving a dagger up under his jaw. He twitched spastically for a moment, spear clattering away, before she let him drop.
“Better,” Kit said, shaking blood off her hand. She bent to wipe it on the Auxie’s uniform. “You going to be able to get that open?”
Gyre coughed to cover his momentary hesitation. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”
He turned back to his task, shaking his head. It’s not like I haven’t killed Auxies. They were part of the Order and the Republic, after all, just as much as the centarchs or the duxes. But there was something about the utter casualness of Kit’s violence that gave him pause. Don’t get soft, he chided himself. You’ve done far worse things to get to the Tomb. And, if he did find the power he wanted, no doubt there would be worse yet to come.
With a final hiss, the acid burned through. Gyre jammed a handle mounted on a corkscrew-shaped tine into the wood and gave it a few twists. When Kit rejoined him, crouching at his side, he opened the door.
There was a ladder leading down into a junction of two hallways. Everything was dark and still. Gyre listened for a moment but heard no sign of movement.
“I’ll get the bodies,” Kit said. Gyre started a little at the thought, but it only made sense. Hopefully there’s no one watching inside. Leaving them out here makes it more likely someone will trip over them and sound the alarm. His scar itched, and when he went to scratch it, his finger tapped irritably against his mask.
Gyre climbed down, waiting at the bottom of the ladder until Kit returned carrying the dead Auxie woman. She lowered the corpse carefully by the arms until Gyre was able to catch it around the waist. Blood still oozed from the broad gash across the woman’s throat, and her blank gaze made Gyre shudder. Don’t. Get. Soft.
Kit let the other Auxie’s body down, and Gyre piled the two corpses against the wall. Kit herself jumped to the ground, eschewing the ladder and landing with catlike grace. With his nighteye, Gyre could see the darker stains spattered across her black clothing.
“From this point, we’re going in blind,” Gyre said. “Any ideas on how to actually find this stasis web?”