What the chasms was I even thinking?

I clutch my hair with both hands, sitting hunched at the edge of my bed. Waiting.

Our plan is simple, but it's the best we could come up with, given the circumstances. We'll probably get hurt in the process and thrown right back in here...though our families will be the ones to pay the real price.

But we can't not do anything. No matter how much I toss and turn, torturing myself over our choices, that's the conclusion I keep coming back to. Besides, it's not just my decision. Even Oz found a way to express his vote when he finally got back from the Puppeteer's experiments with the Sentinel. He couldn't flow into the signal for "yes" fast enough.

The first phase drags by in silence, most of our eyes on the bathroom door.

"Ozmanthas has been gone for almost a quarter of an hour," says Saffryn. "If we were right, he should be back soon. Everyone have their packs ready?"

There's a general murmuring ascent as we get up from our beds, hauling our makeshift packs out of our trunks. If we fail in absolutely everything else, at least we'll be ready to flee. If we can get the Sentinel, we'll fly straight to Morovin's capital and hold the whole city hostage until the Puppeteer steps down. If we can't get the Sentinel but manage to take our guards with us—or somehow stay a step ahead of their tracking ability—we might be able to rally a resistance from without. Perhaps even claim the other Sentinal for ourselves, and then use that to hold Morovin.

I go into the bathroom to get a drink of water, eyeing the open drain of the shower where we've removed the grating. A moment later, Oz spills upward and out of it, pooling across the stone.

"He's back!" I call to the others. My heart rate doubles as he flows into a spiral shape—the signal that we can move forward to the next stage of the plan. He's been outside the bounds of the stalstone—and no one sensed him, stopped him, or overtook him. The Puppeteer is asleep.

Once he's out of the bathroom, I take a deep breath to steady my shaking hands. Then I reach into the rags between my legs, drenching my fingers in blood before withdrawing them and smearing it like a wound across my forehead.

Out in the main chamber, the others have the packs all set just out of sight behind their beds, ready to grab. Thrall quickly takes his place by the wall over near the door.

"Everyone ready?" Asks Saffryn, using the same hushed tones as the rest of us. When we all nod our ascent, she takes a deep breath.

"No Nik! Don't!" She shrieks. I dash across the chamber towards Thrall, coming to a sudden stop just before I reach the wall and just as he brings one meaty fist crashing into it in a reverberating thwack. I let myself fall backward, sprawling across the floor with my eyes closed, mouth agape.

The others all begin to shout and shriek, Thrall kneeling by my side as Howla shoots across the room to batter at the door.

"Nik's hurt!" She screams. "We need a healer! Help, damn you! Hurry!"

"Her head—" says Saffryn, feigning horror just as Howla jumps back and the door scrapes open.

"What happened?" Demands a guard with a heavy Morovani accent, while another hurries over to scoop me up in their arms. Though my eyes are mostly closed, I can see just enough from beneath my lashes to be almost certain that the speaking guard is human. The other one, however, is Pash.

My insides twist. She should be able to sense I'm not really hurt. But if that's true, she doesn't show it in the way she cradles me carefully to her chest. I send silent prayers to the Firstborn, begging for Pash to play along even as I thank them that we were right.

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It had been obvious enough that the Puppeteer probably still needed sleep like any other person. It followed that during that time, they wouldn't be able to control anyone at all—even their drugged beast-eaters. It had been Saffryn's guess that loyal, human Morovani guards would stand in as replacements for those beast-eaters who weren't of that nations themselves. For whatever reason, most of them seemed to come from everywhere else in the Mirelands but there, Pash being one of the few exceptions.

And Thrall, with his wolf's nose, had been able to scent the difference even through the heavy door.

"The enclosed space and everything happening—it was driving her crazy. She said she didn't want to be a weapon. So she—" there's a muffled, sobbing hiccup as Saffryn trails off. I'm impressed. She's good at this.

Pash has almost got me over the threshold when the other one curses, throwing out an arm.

"You can't take her out of the stalstone, idiot," he hisses.

"But we've got to get her to a physician. They'll kill us if we let her die—"

"So we bring one here."

"She could die before they get here," says Rhetrien, rushing over. "Let me save her. You can toss us both right back in the instant I'm done, but I can't do it from within the stalstone."

There's a brief moment of silence, and then—

"Fine."

The other guard makes some kind of gesture, then Pash and I are moving. The next instant, I'm over the threshold and the Web is opening up before me.

Got you.

I shove my awareness outward, enveloping the Ember of every human guard in the hall, but two beast-eaters remain—Pash and one other whose name I don't know.

As one, I level the human guards' weapons—fighting every moment to maintain control of all of them at once. Perhaps a pulse-command? No, two.

ATTACK THE BEAST-EATERS, EXCEPT THRALL.

DON'T STOP UNTIL YOU KNOCK THEM OUT.

It works. The command takes over, controlling the human guards for me. They advance in a rush, swords clattering against Pash's armored back as she whirls around to shield me. Her muscles go rigid around my body, but even under the onslaught she sets me down carefully—making sure my legs are steady beneath me before releasing my weight.

"You don't need to fight me," she pants, blocking an attack from the left as she unsheathes her sword with her right in time to block another. "I'm on your side. I'll help you."

"You're Morovani," I spit at her back. "And why didn't you try to help before?"

"I didn't have the chance." She knocks one of the human guards across the side of the head with the pommel of her sword, sending them sprawling, unconscious, to the ground. "And the traitors are extremists, we're not all—" she ducks, narrowly missing a blow to the face as she kicks another guard's feet out from under them—"like that." She sends them into darkness with another pommel-blow to the head.

"If we don't take her with us, we'll have to kill her," says Saffryn from behind me as Thrall helps her into her walking chair.

I sputter, twisting around to look at her—but the steel in her eyes is unyielding.

"Fine," I say, turning back to Pash, who stands facing away from us now, breathing hard. The remaining human guards are occupied by the other beast-eater. "Prove it. Help us capture the Puppeteer."

"I can prove it," says Pash, hefting her sword once more. In the next instant, she's come up behind the other beast-eater, knocking them out with a strike to the back of the head. Immediately, the other human guards turn on her.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and gather the energy for another pulse. One I'm not sure will work.

GO TO SLEEP, I command, exhaling as the power rushes out of me. They do, falling to the floor in a slack-jawed stupor. I waver a bit on my feet, my energy dwindling rapidly now.

Puka canters over through the open door, the rest of my khajra close on his heels. A few of the others stare at the unconscious guards as they gather around, while some pairs of eyes land on me. Avoiding all of them, I look to Pash. "I can sense where the Puppeteer is, but not the best way to get to them. This place is like a maze."

She shakes her head. "You don't want to go straight to them, trust me. They're too well-guarded in their sleep, and by loyal beast-eaters. They'll be signaled and awoken before we ever get to them, and they'll take us all over again.

I grit my teeth. I want to argue—but I know she's probably right. A cool hand settles on my shoulder, and I twist around to look at Rhetrien. "This is why our plan was adaptable. We knew what our options might come down to."

"So we destroy the beast-eater drug, at least. Free whoever we can. Then we get to the Sentinal and get out of range of their power." I look around to the others, no one argues.

"That I can help you with," says Pash, smiling grimly.