Fifteen Four Breaths

FIFTEEN

Four Breaths

MARY

T hick snowflakes clung to my lashes as I surveyed the dark bulk of the prison. It lay on the other side of another deep inlet and the town of Maase, which clustered between the ridges and scented the breeze with wisps of hearthsmoke. The tide had made a dramatic retreat that night, leaving a series of small docks clothed only in icicles from mooring ropes down to the rocky inlet floor. There were no boats to be seen, perhaps still hidden in boathouses and huts for winter repairs.

The prison was a hulking fortress with thick exterior walls roping their way across uneven cliffs. Its three main bastions had obviously been built in different eras, with the newest rectangular, whitewashed and blending with a mantle of fine snow. Only a few windows were lit, but walls were bathed in torchlight, giving everything within them a sense of separation and foreboding.

The longboat bobbed on a particularly large wave, and I grabbed the gunnel.

Perched behind me, Illya nodded towards the shore. "Well? Are you ready?"

I nodded.

The rowers turned to their oars and, hidden by snow and darkness, we made landfall below the prison, beyond the edge of town. We could not get as close to shore—not with the tide as far out as it was—but this, we'd decided, was to my advantage.

Instead of being left to scale sheer wave-battered cliffs, I set my boots on the uneven rock and frozen mud of a barren tidal shore. I pulled off my boat cloak and handed it back to Illya, revealing breeches and a practical wrapped Mereish coat, slit at the sides for ease of movement.

"Last chance to change your mind," Illya prompted.

The rowers, all crewmembers I'd come to know well, watched me with varying degrees of uncertainty.

"Your confidence is overwhelming." I gave them a smile and squinted snow-laden lashes. "Just be at the prison dock on time."

The Usti nodded, the crew saluted or whispered farewells, and the boat shoved off.

I moved quickly and quietly, clambering up an icy ladder onto the town's most distant, darkest dock. Then I found the start of a goat path and set off.

An hour later, I was hot, exhausted, and damp from melting snow. The storm had attempted to move inland halfway through my climb and now demanded a constant hum to keep it blowing. Thankfully, the snow itself muffled my song from listening ears.

It also muffled the footfalls coming towards me. It was the high click of ice-grips that finally alerted me, their tap-crunch at odds with my own careful steps.

I skittered off the path, whipping out a curl of wind to cover my tracks, and hunched behind a boulder. I stopped humming and the storm shifted, disconsolate and already turning inland again.

Three guards followed one another down the slope, muskets slung loosely across their backs. Though they didn't speak, their demeanor wasn't that of watchmen: they simply moved like tired humans, trudging home after a long night.

We can go now , Tane prodded.

I gathered myself, pushed off the cold stone, and began to hum again. The wind grudgingly returned to me, bringing a renewed veil of snow, and I continued towards the crest of the rise and the foot of the fort's surrounding walls.

Just before I reached level terrain and the section of wall we'd marked for my crossing, I slowed and transitioned into a crawl. On my belly, I peered across an open, barely sloped shoulder of rock to the base of the wall. Not far off, a snow-capped watchpost lorded over the surrounding area.

I wouldn't just need to be in the Dark Water to pass through the wall. I'd need to be in it to cross the open space too.

I swallowed tightly and focused on my breaths—too ragged after the climb, and in anticipation of my next challenge. Every part of me protested that I couldn't afford to wait, that I should run now, sprint now. At any second, someone would see me and I'd be shot or captured.

My fingers twitched, and I clenched my eyes shut. I grounded myself in frozen earth beneath my belly, melting snow beneath my hands, and cold air in my lungs.

Then, in a gap between worry and fear, I pushed off—into the open space and into the Dark Water. A ridge of opalescent black rock rippled out beneath me, swallowing the grey and white human world. My feet thudded through puddles and cascades of the Other realm's dark water, covering the rock in a constant, glistening sheath. Fae dragonflies scattered in buzzing clouds of gold and purple, and other more distant lights ignited in the gloom.

I swept the skies. No hovering, winged dittama. Just distant beings, glistening like stars in a sky with three waning moons.

Two footsteps, one breath. Three footsteps. Two breaths.

I hit the wall—or sensed I did. I could not see it here in the Other world, but a barrier of cold assaulted me.

My third inhale. The cold faded, and I carried on another pace, my entire body quavering. Fae dragonflies converged upon me, the humming swirl of their wings the only sound in the spectral realm.

Through their brilliant aura I made out other lights, reflections of Otherborn power trapped in the human world. They were blurred and dimmed, somewhere far above.

Mages.

I let out my third breath and drew my fourth. I held that last gulp of air, cheeks puffing.

We're on the other side of the wall? You're sure? I murmured to Tane. My skull rattled with a hundred horrific images—me returning to the physical world to be wholly encased in stone, or perhaps half-encased, a leg or arm or hip crushed. My blood would stain the whitewashing, and the pain would go on and on as Tane fought to keep me alive.

I am certain , Tane reassured me. Go on .

The dragonflies scattered as I let out my fourth breath in a long, tremulous gust. The Dark Water faded. I stood a pace inside the fortress's curtain wall, wrapped in shadow.

Another wall, a whitewashed one footed by cobblestones, brushed the tip of my nose. I let out a strangled squeak. A stray dragonfly, clinging to my clothes, took flight and whirred dazedly up into the sky.

My knees wobbled with relief and terror. I staggered backwards against the curtain wall—cold and solid and unyielding, with dormant moss clinging here and there. Touching it only made me feel worse. I pushed off and huddled between the two barriers, contemplating lying on the ground and letting the snow fall on my face for a few minutes.

Then I heard the distant church bell and knew I had to move. Eleven bells. I needed to have Ben at the docks at twelve.

An hour in this place. Just an hour. I could do that.

I rose and put a hand on the white wall of the keep. Here, hidden from sight, I could afford a small risk.

Tane slipped from my skin, glowing softly in the night, and passed through the second wall alone. I saw the world beyond through her cautious eyes. The interior was plastered, once lovingly painted in intricate designs, now faded. A raw stone floor, a room full of barrels and crates and a staircase up a natural rise in the rock to empty, sleeping kitchens.

A pace and a half . Tane slipped back into my flesh. Let me guide us.

I hesitated. Tane and I might share a body, and occasionally she spoke through me when she wanted non- ghiseau to understand her. But letting her take control of my body was something that we had only ever done in the gravest of circumstances.

Are these circumstances not grave enough for you? she asked amusedly.

Fair.

I felt a strange rush, then I was moving without conscious effort. Again, Tane pulled us into the Dark Water. Again, I rematerialized beyond the barrier, this time possessed of a deep, knowing assurance that I wouldn't end up half inside a wall or a barrel or a shelf or a door. I was still nauseous, but even that was not so intense.

Thank you , I said, and meant it.

May we continue this way? I can direct when need be. Otherwise, I will scout ahead.

Yes, please.

I started for the stair. Tane preceded me, half-manifested and serving as my spectral vanguard.

The kitchens smelled distantly of lemon and sage and grains, fermenting in huge pots on the sleeping stove. I crept on into an empty passage, past closed doors that failed to muffle the shuffles and snores of sleeping humanity—servants and off-duty guards, I guessed, as the rooms had no exterior locks.

Another passage. A stair. We stepped into the Dark Water again for four more breaths to reorient ourselves with the mass of captive magelight and then hastened across an empty hall lined with three huge tables.

Footsteps brought me up short. I grabbed the nearest door handle. Locked.

Tane?

Her light slipped through the wood, washing my face in a dangerous glow. A glimpse of the space beyond—a staircase—then she was back in my flesh. Without falter the ghisting stepped us into the Dark Water and through the door.

I rejoined the human world just as footsteps reached us. Then, to my horror, they stopped. I heard the jangle of keys. Low murmurs. A soft laugh.

Tane abruptly extinguished her traitorous light.

Fuck , I mouthed into the shadows and took off up the stairs as quietly as I could. It was tight and circular, and I'd just managed to make the second round before the door opened and voices echoed up towards me. The scuff of my boots seemed so, so loud.

I met a small landing, again with a door, teetering on the edge of panic. Even if the door was unlocked, if I lifted the twisted iron latch the sound would betray me—already the rampant thunder of my heart and the thin wheeze of my breath were too loud. Nor was there time for Tane to scout the room beyond, not when her light would give us away.

We stepped into the Dark Water, panted my four breaths, and rematerialized beyond the door. I found myself in a long, empty passageway, completely dark. The voices still approached, distorted by the stairs and barely muffled by the ancient, iron-banded door.

I hastened down the hall, chased by the too-loud echoes of my feet.

I turned a corner and came to an abrupt halt. The chamber before me was circular and small, nestled within a small tower. There was no other door—clearly for security, because this was some kind of treasury. Or armory?

I felt the presence of magic at the same time as Tane. She manifested fully, and we turned back-to-back.

Teal ghisten light flooded the space, glinting off rows of coins hanging from pegs—coins on chains. Mereish talismans. Racks of muskets and long Usti rifles were next to shelves of pistol boxes and buckets of lead shot. I counted ten sideswords lined up on a table, neatly wound with their weapons belts. Even rows of breastplates with central ridges for deflecting bullets decorated another wall— their style out of date, though the armor was obviously well-maintained, free of rust and warmed by recent oiling.

For every weapon present, the same number were missing— empty racks, empty tables. Everything save the muskets, rifles, pistols and swords felt vaguely sorcerous. Most of them, in any case. The room was so full of strange, latent power that I struggled to identify its exact sources.

My internal clock ticked meaningfully. We couldn't linger here. But nor could I simply walk away from whatever these were.

I quickly made up my mind. I started snatching up talismans and shoving them into my pockets. My skin tingled as I touched them, both unsettling and gratifying. I grabbed a random assortment of lead balls too, marked with different colored dots and humming with the same power I felt in the talismans. I cinched a sidesword at my waist and gathered a dagger and two pistols, the latter of which went into a brace across my chest.

Feeling much better prepared—and delightfully like an overarmed renegade—I beckoned to Tane. Let's go .