It took Janu several attempts to pass the message back through the hole they had made that it was safe to enter. Every time he stuck his hand back through the waterfall he worried the force of it would send him flying and make him lose his grip on the rope. It almost did, but he managed to regain control. He only had time for a quick ‘all clear; use rope’ signal when he finally shoved his arm far enough before being pushed back out. At least, he hoped it was far enough. And he wished he could have warned them about the waterfall.

Not wanting to be kicked in the face by whoever came next, he started climbing hand over hand down the rope. He would have preferred to loop the end about his back and slide down with his feet against the wall like they usually did, but two things stopped him. First, in the heat of the moment he hadn’t thought to double-tie the rope. Second, as the roar of water just behind his head reminded him, he’d likely stick his head into the waterfall and get swept away without thinking.

He was halfway to the floor when the pitch of the waterfall changed. He fastened his grip on the rope just in time – Heketas came shooting out of the hole, his momentum jerking Janu back into the water. It slammed into him, knocking his legs away from the rope. A second later he reemerged, spluttering, hands burning where they had begun to slip.

When he looked up, Heketas’ feet were about three inches from his face.

Biting back some unkind words, Janu said, ‘Watch out below you.’

Heketas just shivered and gave a hiss of pain. If he’d slid down that far, he had probably scraped his hands raw.

Janu kept going down, his shoulders burning, palms chafing at the bite of the wet rope. He had to be fast. Too slow and he would either run out of strength or the next person would land on Heketas’ head. Or Heketas himself would – if only they didn’t need his knowledge of the palace. So far he had proved himself more liability than help.

As soon as his feet touched the stream below, Janu swung aside and jumped onto the narrow ledge beside it, then moved along to make space for Heketas. He took the scale out from under his tongue and pocketed it, relishing the ability to relax his jaw muscles again.

Darkness gripped the room – he could only make out details by the dim firelight coming through the grate and whatever moonlight refracted through the waterfall. It wasn’t much, but made the top of the waterfall seem luminous. A shadow obstructed it for a moment as someone else flew through the hole. The rope jerked again, but Heketas was heavy enough and far enough down that the motion didn’t fling him into the water like it had for Janu.

When Heketas joined him on the ledge, he made more pained noises and examined his hands. Pink watery blood covered them. The skin of his palms was tattered, with red patches where the rope had worn it away.

‘Do you think we’ll need the rope again?’ Janu asked him.

‘I bloody hope not.’ He made a few experimental clenches of his hands, wincing. ‘Didn’t know that drop was there. We never went up the stream.’

If Heketas had known how deep this level was, and where the grate was, it surely wouldn’t have taken much common sense to put the two together and realise it had to descend. But Janu didn’t mention that. Or the lack of his swimming abilities. That was done and gone. They had to focus on the way ahead, now.

Janu walked over to the next grate and knelt to examine it. It was exactly the same as the first, made of stone with no screws or any way to open it. Divya would have to cut through this one, too. At least the stream continued flat as far as he could see after it, but how many more grates would they have to get through? And how long until someone noticed the other was open? Below the waterline, it shouldn’t be too obvious, but the lake water was clear enough that he couldn’t count on that to save them.

Five minutes later, everyone had made it to the bottom of the waterfall. Divya, being the best swimmer of all of them, came last and headed for the second grate at once. Janu didn’t need to say anything – she just set to work cutting. This time, he could see the water coursing up to her hand from the stream and forming into a thin jet by her fingers. Water witches must have many such tricks up their sleeves, known only to them.

While they waited, Galnai unwrapped the bundle of weapons and handed them out. Ilarion visibly relaxed when she handed him his sword belt. Heketas examined his own sword for damage and wiped it carefully on his trousers – perhaps not realising that his trousers were soaked and until then, his sword was perfectly dry. It had the imperial stamp on it, so must have been awarded during his service. Heketas had kept in it better condition than himself.

Just as Divya was moving onto the last side, a deep bass note reverberated through the floor above them. Janu froze, his heart thudding in his chest. Distant trumpets sounded at the edge of his hearing.

‘Is that the alarm?’ Galnai asked, looking at Heketas.

Heketas shook his head. A spark of awe flickered in his eyes, but his face had grown pale. ‘Not unless they’re planning to send the whole dragon guard down here.’

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‘What do you mean?’ Janu fumbled at his belt pouches for the second glass disc. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s the summons for the dragon guard. I’ve never heard it before, but some of the older guards talked about it. It sounded during the war, whenever they wanted to rally the guard for an attack.’ He stared up at the top of the waterfall. ‘Gods, but I’d love to see it. The whole guard in the sky at once. More dragons in one place than anywhere, surely.’

Ilarion grimaced, but said nothing and stepped over to join Janu. He managed to get the disc out and cradled it in his hand, squinting to get a clear picture. This glass should be linked to the one he had pasted to the wall outside, but it was poor magic, and he couldn’t make out much beyond variations in light and shade that could have just been the glass itself. He held it against the pale stone wall above Divya for a better picture.

Details resolved in the glass, first the pale surface of the lake reflecting moonlight, then the dark line of the distant shore. Serpents still rose and fell in their trance, their eyes glinting.

‘I can’t see anything new,’ Janu said. ‘We should have had one of your draklings carry the other glass around for a better view.’

Ilarion shook his head. ‘They can’t follow complex instructions. That would be beyond them.’

Trumpets sounded again, but with different notes this time.

‘That must be the call for departure,’ said Heketas, then muscled in next to Janu and Ilarion. ‘Let me look at that.’

Janu suppressed a flash of annoyance. ‘There’s nothing—’

Just then a dark shape passed onto the top of the glass disc, followed by another and another. Ilarion touched two fingers to the rim of the glass and muttered some words under his breath in something akin to the canter’s tongue. The picture in the glass brightened until it was like daylight, and the view shifted closer to the shapes in the sky.

They were dragons. Dozens of them, in every colour and size, bedecked in gold and silk that shimmered in the moonlight. Their riders bore bristling packs of javelins and held long, pennant-hung lances. Unlike their mounts, they wore exquisite armour over their silks and thick woollen cloaks over that.

The thieves watched, breathless, as the dragon guard wheeled and flew from left to right, gaining speed until they had left the scope of the lens entirely. Like a spider, the thought of them being somewhere out of sight made Janu’s skin crawl. It might not matter what they stole here if a company of claws and teeth was waiting for them when they emerged. But they had left, for now it seemed.

‘Where are they going?’ Janu asked. Not towards them, at least, but if war was the last time they had been called like this, what had prompted it now?

Heketas ran a hand over his chin, leaving bloody streaks. ‘That’s east, if they don’t turn again. Maybe southeast.’

From the way Ilarion tensed, Janu could guess at his thoughts. That way lay Kimah-Kur and the heart of the dragons’ territory.

‘We need to warn them,’ Ilarion said at last.

Heketas frowned. ‘Warn who?’

Janu shook his head. ‘We’re not getting out the same way we came in. How are you going to get a message to them?’

‘I can try.’ Ilarion eyed the waterfall. His hand drifted to the buckle of his sword belt.

Divya spoke up before he could start undoing it. ‘Don’t bother. Is this a message to your dragons? If you tell me how to send it, I can do so for you – it is no matter. If a drakfish can climb rapids, so can I.’

‘Dragons?’ Mouth agape, Heketas seemed more like a fish in that moment than Divya. ‘You have your own dragons?’

‘We don’t have anything.’ Ilarion’s words were sharp. ‘But we’re working for the dragons, yes. For their freedom.’

Too many gears were grinding in slow confusion in Heketas’ head for him to reply.

Ilarion turned to Divya, who had two more bars to cut through. ‘I have a whistle you’ll need to blow above the surface. Don’t worry about anyone hearing you – it’s pitched for drakling ears. Dragons can hear it if they’re close enough, but I doubt it will be enough to turn the guard around.’ As he talked, Divya nodded. ‘Wait for a drakling to appear, then say to it, "Tell Ushuene-amaak: We think the empire is sending its dragon guard to fight you in Kimah-Kur. We saw them leave the night of the full moon." Then tell it to go.’

Divya made an impressed grunt. ‘Draklings can understand all that?’

‘Understand? No, not exactly. They just know to relay the words.’

Janu hooked his thumbs through his belt and tapped his toes against the floor, chin against his chest. His nerves jittered and tingled along his spine. Over the long course of his thievery, he had learned to listen to that feeling, and it had never been as strong as it was now.

‘Divya,’ he asked, ‘if you can get out, could you get the rest of us out as well?’

She nodded. ‘We’re not trapped here, if that’s what you’re worrying over. We can leave when you have what you came for.’

He twisted his belt in his grip, avoiding the others’ gazes. He poured his thoughts out quickly so no one could interrupt. ‘I think we should leave now. It’s too dangerous. If the empire knows enough to send their guard out to Kimah-Kur, they might know enough to come after us. It’s just a matter of finding us, and that’s just a matter of time, so the sooner we leave, the better.’

‘Are you mad?’ Ilarion took half a step forwards, his brow furrowed, his hand on the pommel of his sword. ‘Now is the perfect time to continue. It’s highly unlikely they know we’re here, so if nothing else, whatever has taken them to Kimah-Kur will work as a distraction in our favour. And whatever that reason is, I should imagine it means the dragons need our help now more than ever. If we take the source of Critobulus’ power away from him, they’ll have the advantage. We can’t deprive them of that. Not at an hour so critical.’

Janu closed his eyes. Fraidun wouldn’t have even suggested they leave. He would have dived right in all the faster. And yes, that sort of thinking would have got him killed or jailed on several occasions, but he always wanted to help. In his heart, Janu could already feel a shadow of the guilt that would eat away at him if he walked now. It wasn’t about money anymore. It was about doing the right thing and – the one piece Fraidun lacked – being in the right place at the right time to do that right thing.

‘Ilarion’s right, Janu.’ Galnai kept her voice quiet but firm, and it just cut across the noise of the waterfall. ‘We can’t back out now.’

Opening his eyes, he saw the conviction on her face. Galnai, who never cared. Galnai, pragmatic to a fault. Galnai, ready to keep going with their mission no matter what it might cost them.

Stone scraped behind him and he turned to see Divya lowering the grate into the stream. She spared a glance back over her shoulder. ‘The way ahead is clear. You still want me to send that message?’

Janu let out a great rush of breath, then nodded. ‘Send it. We’ll keep moving. Let’s find this horn and get out of here.’