through stone with the magic power of the demons, so who knew what she was capable of?
The tunnel had wound steeply down at first but was flat now. Tash sensed she was close, the image in her head of Frost asleep changing as if the tunnel was showing her what really was ahead. In the new vision, Frost was asleep on a blanket on the ground, some sort of cage behind her, and—
The stone before Tash opened up.
It’s worked! She’s there!
Tash took a step back; she needed to compose herself.
Right. Take it slow. Check there’s no one else nearby.
She slowly leaned forward to peer through her hole.
It opened into a stone chamber of sorts, lit by the same glow as all the demon tunnels, but here it was purple rather than red. There was one small, low entrance on Tash’s right, and at the far left was a cage with thick bars and a massive lock. There were no soldiers. The only person there was Frost, lying asleep on her blanket, just as she had been in Tash’s vision. And stacked high inside the cage . . .
Bottles. Bottles with a purple glow.
Shits! This is their smoke store!
Tash took another step back.
Right. Keep calm. Think this through. This changes things. If I can get past her, I could get to the bottles and release the smoke.
Tash imagined the hole in the stone expanding, and it im-mediately did so. She stepped slowly forward, checked right—no soldiers—and moved slowly and silently toward the cage.
Frost lay in front of it, a thin blanket over her bony shoul-ders. Her face was relaxed, though she was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Close up, she seemed older than Tash had thought—perhaps a bit older than Princess Catherine; she only looked young at a distance because she was so small and scrawny. She was lying close to the cage door, which had a huge padlock on it, and there wasn’t a key left handily on a hook nearby.
I bet the commander has the key.
Tash stood still, uncertain what to do.
Even without opening the cage I could try to smash all the bottles from the outside.
Or, if I take a bit of smoke first, I could get strong enough to force the bars open! That’d be easier. And helpful if any of those soldiers poke their noses in.
She’d taken smoke only once before, in Rossarb Castle, when she’d thrown a spear farther than anyone else. The feeling of strength it had given her was amazing, but also strange and somehow unnatural. However, a small amount now would do no harm.
Tash lifted her right foot over Frost and put it on one of the cage’s horizontal bars. She steadied herself and bent forward, stretching her arm as far as she could into the cage. Her fingertips grazed the nearest bottle.
Just a bit farther!
Tash stretched and touched the bottle again. It wobbled alarmingly.
She pulled her arm back. She couldn’t reach from here.
Carefully, she tried again and managed to get her fingers round the neck of a bottle. But she’d forgotten that the smoke was heavy, and her hands were sweaty with nerves and the heat. The bottle began to slip.
Shits!
Tash lowered the bottle gently to the ground inside the cage and tried again with a better grip on it. She pulled the bottle to her, but it wouldn’t fit through the bars.
This isn’t funny.
She tried again, turning the bottle, but it was still just a bit too wide. And now the bottle was slipping out of her fingers again. She tried to lower it gently, but this time it touched the ground with a gentle chime.
Tash froze.
Frost turned in her sleep. And rolled into Tash’s left leg.
In an instant Frost was sitting up, a cry that sounded like a bell coming from her lips. Tash fell on her, pushing her back to the ground and clamping one hand over her mouth, grabbing her knife with the other, and holding it to Frost’s throat.
Tash shot a glance at the entrance, bracing herself for soldiers to come running in. But no one appeared. It was silent again.
Tash turned back to Frost, who wasn’t resisting her, but merely staring at her and scowling. Her eyes were brilliant silver—more startling even than March’s.
Who’s March?
A cutesy, little-girl voice filled Tash’s head, almost making her drop her knife.
Never you mind who March is. My name is Tash and I have a knife at your throat.