And she knew this much: the key to Sophie’s safety lay somewhere on the edge of the Sparkling Sea, in the knowledge of a magical creature known as a Spyden. Claire didn’t know too much about them (she hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions, in case it caught the attention of her friend Nett’s endless curiosity), only that they could spin answers from the air and patch any problem. And that they lived somewhere near Needle Pointe, the only permanent community of Spinners, located on the other side of Constellation Range, where the Rhona River emptied into the Sparkling Sea. In this small bay, the Spinners’ sails could catch the hint of stories on the wind and easily move their narrowboats inland.

With the spyglass, Invis-Ability, and a little bit of luck, Claire had managed to scoot undetected onto a cargo raft of a Spinner fleet. And luckier still, the raft had contained crates of the autumn’s harvest. She’d tucked herself in under the carrots until this afternoon, when the river picked up the scent of salt and gulls shrieked overhead, and she knew: they had reached the sea.

At first, Claire had been grateful for the heavy blanket of clouds from the brewing storm. It had made the afternoon gray enough for her Invis-Ability to be effective. She’d slipped off the raft and into the main harbor, a small forest of bobbing ships’ masts. She’d selected the largest ship, the Thread Cutter, and had scrambled to this highest point, where she now needed to …

Well.

Claire’s semi-visible fingers gripped the arrow harder, and she tried to swallow her heart back down to where it belonged. She must choose: either test the arrow—or leave the crow’s nest and find someplace safe to hide until she was ready.

But instead of making up her mind, Claire reached for the spyglass.

She just needed one more look at where to aim. She knew from experience that a Lode Arrow could take her miles high and miles across in only a few short seconds if she shot it properly. But she had only used one once before, not on purpose, and that arrow had been crafted by the commander of the Wraith Watch, a man with many years of Gemmer experience. This arrow, however, Claire had crafted herself, using the lessons she’d learned at Stonehaven. It wasn’t really sharp, but her fingers had tingled as they always did when she created something using her own Gemmer magic.

Holding the spyglass to her eye, Claire braced for the eddy of colors that would immediately bring on a headache. She shifted slightly, and there it was, drilled into a cliff face, thousands of feet above the water: a single black hole. The mouth of a cave marked on one of Aquila Malchain’s maps as Spyden’s Lair.

A raindrop plopped on her head.

Uh-oh.