The Drowned Woods (51)

Fane knelt down.

“Come here,” he said.

Trefor took a step back.

“Oh, stop being a coward,” said Fane, pulling off his cloak and knotting it around his shoulders. It looked as though he had done this before. In a few moments, he had rigged up a makeshift wrap to keep Trefor on his back. Trefor whined but allowed himself to be bundled up. Mer found herself smiling at the dog, reaching out to ruffle his ears. Trefor licked her fingers.

“You go next,” said Mer.

Fane’s long legs looked a little awkward as he crouched and contorted himself to fit down inside the grate. Mer looked up, her gaze roaming over the city streets.

It was her home and not her home.

And now it was time to leave it.

Mer took a deep breath, then lowered herself into the waiting dark.





CHAPTER 15


WATER CHURNED BENEATH Caer Wyddno.

The sewers had begun as sea caves, tunnels carved out by centuries of tides. The city’s builders had repurposed the caves, ensuring that Caer Wyddno would not suffer the diseases and filth that came with people dumping their muck in the streets. Instead, it went out with the waves. The sewers had been reinforced with stonework and magic, and they were tall enough for even Fane to stand comfortably.

The moment Mer’s feet touched the water at the base of the sewer, she sensed the webwork of tunnels. They were all connected by water—like veins through a body. Mer could close her eyes and find her way by magic alone. The rest of the world fell away, leaving only the ebb and flow, the tickle of salt in her nose, and the weight of the nearby ocean. She sensed its power, its depthless strength.

Behind her, there came the sound of firesteel being struck. A hiss of flame, then Ifanna straightened. A small glass lantern swung from her fingertips, casting a merry glow across the tunnel. Several small, furry forms skittered away.

A growl emanated from Fane’s back.

“Did you just growl?” said Ifanna.

Fane turned and Ifanna saw the dog strapped to his back. “I cannot believe he stands for that.”

“He likes it,” said Fane fondly. “Or at least, he does when we’re walking uphill and his legs get tired. And I’d rather not have him chase rats or go into deep water.”

Trefor raised his snout, sniffed the humid air, then gave a small sneeze.

The sewer curved downward, carrying water toward the ocean. Mer took careful steps, mindful of the slickness and the occasional rat. Ifanna’s lamp bobbed behind her, casting a steady glow. Mer let herself fall into the old rhythms—her magic guiding her along the paths of water, avoiding those sewers that were blocked or collapsed. She moved soundlessly through the water, keeping her senses attuned to their surroundings. When a particularly large rat swam by, Mer swept out an arm and pushed Ifanna and Fane to the side of the tunnel.

The path to the western gate took about half an hour. The heavy iron grate would allow water and fish to pass through, but nothing larger.

For a moment, Mer saw only darkness—and her heart lurched. Renfrew was a capable fighter and she had aided him as best she could with the mist, but she couldn’t be sure he and the others had escaped.

Then the wavering light from Ifanna’s lantern fell across three figures.

Renfrew stood with one hand on the iron grate, fingers resting lightly against the lock. Emrick looked like a well-bred cat that had been dunked in a barrel. One of Gryf’s hands was bandaged, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He leaned against the sewer wall comfortably.

“Renfrew,” said Mer, with no small amount of relief. “Glad to see you all looking so well.”

Renfrew nodded at her. “Your fog helped.”

“How did you manage?” she asked.

“We went out through the upstairs window, onto the roof,” said Emrick. “Then we jumped onto another rooftop, then another, and finally landed in someone’s rosebushes.” True to his words, he did have several bleeding scratches.

Renfrew’s icy gaze fell to Ifanna. “Was it her?”

“If it had been, do you think I’d still be alive?” said Ifanna. “If I had sold you out, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to the aforementioned meeting place where Mer could find and kill me.”

Renfrew blinked once. “I suppose that is reasonable.”

“Of course it was her,” said Emrick. “Who else—”

“It could have been anyone,” said Mer. “One of us—or mayhap a chance encounter in the streets. Someone could have recognized myself or Renfrew and offered up that knowledge for a fistful of coins.” She infused a bit of steel into her voice. “It does not matter, not now.” She turned to Renfrew. “We weren’t supposed to leave tonight. If we go now, we’ll have less time to traverse the caves.”

“We don’t have any other choice,” said Renfrew quietly. “Can you keep the tides at bay?”

Oceans could not truly be controlled; they were wild, unrestrained. When Mer matched her will against the tides, she always came away parched, nose bleeding and head ringing. It wasn’t an experience she was eager to repeat, but she knew her duty. She pulled the heavy key out of her pocket and handed it to Renfrew. “I can try.”

He weighed the key between two fingers, eyeing the piece of metal. Something crossed his face—a flicker of emotion she couldn’t put a name to.