A knot sits thick in my throat. I can only imagine the emotions coursing through Jeran, but even in the darkness, I can tell that he is trembling all over. He keeps his eyes fixed on Aramin, his gaze darting slightly about as if he is studying the chains and wondering whether there is any way we can break them free.

The thought crowds my mind too. But I know it will be impossible. The crowds today are too thick, and the focus on these prisoners too strong. Everyone is here to watch them perform. Too many eyes.

But what if you could cut through the guards, past those cell doors and their chains?

No. I can’t fly. My wings are too far damaged, and without reliance on my flight, it will be too hard to force our way in, cause a commotion, and then try to get them out of the city without attracting the attention of every guard in the city. The Premier will know—he will probably send Talin to face us. Ghosts will be released from their pens around the city’s military complexes and the lab.

I shake my head in silent frustration as two of the guards rotate out. Beside me, Jeran glances at me and seems to guess what I’m struggling with. His hands flicker in the dim light.

“Smaller shifts,” he signs to me, pointing down at the moving soldiers below. “More frequent.”

I nod grimly. There is a pattern to the soldiers they’ve positioned. And when I glance up to the corners of the ceiling, I notice curved rims of mirrors strategically placed. They are designed so that there is no inch of this floor unseen by the guards, no matter where the soldiers stand. They can see a reflection of every curve against this wall. We’ll have to knock them out if we’re to set foot outside this vent.

I do my best to sign this to Jeran. He shakes his head, frowning a few times, but eventually gets the gist of my efforts when he looks at the mirrors.

We settle back to study the soldiers again. No matter how we look at them, we both reach the same conclusion. There is nothing we can do to get them out right now. We are as helpless as if we were standing on opposite shores of an ocean.

Eventually one of the guards stops trying to talk to them and turns his back. Jeran moves slightly against the opening in the vent. One of the buttons at his collar gleams in the light.

A moment later, Aramin’s eyes slide up the wall opposite him. His gaze travels to the soldiers standing outside, then go up to fixate on the slits in the ceiling vent, right where Jeran’s button must have glinted.

At first, the Firstblade doesn’t seem to see us.

But even as Aramin’s gaze breaks away, he comes back again and again to look up in our direction. Jeran does the same each time, shifting just enough for a tiny bit of movement to be seen from outside the vent.