He activated the anti-screamerwire arcana with a twist and set it down beside the trapdoor, then extracted another couple of vials of Lynnia’s genius from his pouch. The first contained an oily substance that would drip through cracks and coat anything it touched. The second was a catalyst that would turn that oil into a vicious acid. Careful application of the pair was an art, but fortunately it was one that he’d had plenty of practice with in his years as Halfmask. Thin wisps of caustic smoke started to rise as he worked.

“Guards coming,” Kit whispered from behind him. “Must be shift change.”

“Shit.” Gyre looked up and saw two figures approaching from the edge of the roof. Nowhere to hide—

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”

Kit faded into the shadows, a dark shape that was hard to track even with nighteye. Gyre hunkered down, oil bottle still in hand, watching the pair get closer. It was a man and woman, with spears and pointed helmets. Either they didn’t have nighteye themselves, or they’d already neutralized it, because they ought to have seen him by now—

Silent as a specter, Kit rose behind the woman. Something fast and messy happened at her throat, and she collapsed with only a faint gurgle. At the sound of her body hitting the tiles, the man turned quizzically, and Kit surged forward to meet him, driving a dagger up under his jaw. He twitched spastically for a moment, spear clattering away, before she let him drop.

“Better,” Kit said, shaking blood off her hand. She bent to wipe it on the Auxie’s uniform. “You going to be able to get that open?”

Gyre coughed to cover his momentary hesitation. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”

He turned back to his task, shaking his head. It’s not like I haven’t killed Auxies. They were part of the Order and the Republic, after all, just as much as the centarchs or the duxes. But there was something about the utter casualness of Kit’s violence that gave him pause. Don’t get soft, he chided himself. You’ve done far worse things to get to the Tomb. And, if he did find the power he wanted, no doubt there would be worse yet to come.

With a final hiss, the acid burned through. Gyre jammed a handle mounted on a corkscrew-shaped tine into the wood and gave it a few twists. When Kit rejoined him, crouching at his side, he opened the door.

There was a ladder leading down into a junction of two hallways. Everything was dark and still. Gyre listened for a moment but heard no sign of movement.