“Please.” I gesture to where Nong lies on the floor. Kudera and Morun fuss over him. I wince a little at Kudera’s dramatics and hope the guard doesn’t notice. “He needs water. Fresh air. Something.”

The guard scowls and turns away. I shout after him, but he does return a moment later with a cup of water. He takes the keys from the wall and unlocks the door leading into the cells. As he passes, my arm darts out. I seize the collar of his uniform and slam him headfirst into the bars of my cell. He cries out, dazed, so I do it again before he can recover.

Groaning, he slumps to the floor. To my frustration, the keys fall just out of reach. I strain against the bars, nails scraping over stone, but I can’t reach them.

“Sisters,” I mutter. I search the guard for a weapon, a dagger, anything that will extend my reach by a few finger lengths.

All he has is a belt. With a grunt, I heave his dead weight closer so I can reach the buckle. The shamanborn watch in taut silence, hands wringing and eyes shining with uncertain hope.

I glance at the window, where the wild energy of the distant fire rises on the wind. I curse loudly. I’m wasting so much time.

At last, my fingers grasp the belt buckle. I begin to work it free when the pool of spilled water suddenly wobbles and lifts. I gasp, startling back. Kudera has her hands braced against the bars. She’s focused intently on the water, which transforms into a long, thin stream. The liquid glides through the air and loops around the fallen keys like a length of rope. I release my breath as the water carries the keys the short distance into Kudera’s waiting hand.

The grin she gives me is magnificent. Quickly she opens first her door and then mine. I shove the unconscious guard into my cell and lock him inside.

“Where to?” Kudera asks, Maiya at her elbow. Nong lifts Morun onto his back, and all four await my instructions.

“We’re to meet a friend at the docks,” I say as we head into the front of the guardhouse. Off to the side there’s a mini armory, where I locate a set of dual swords. They’re plain and unadorned, soldier’s weapons.

“Do you know how to use those?” Kudera asks. She selects a short dagger for herself and shoves it into the waist of her pants.

“Well enough,” I say.

Cracking open the door, I peer outside. The street is deserted. Everyone’s gone to either help with the fire or watch the spectacle. I gesture for them to follow as I dart outside, crossing the street into a darkened alley. The southwest sky glows orange as the queen’s ships burn.