“I hope. Do you remember how we rescued Avry last year?”

“Yes, but Loren—”

“I’ve a substitute for your leg holders.”

Flea glanced at Huxley. “Won’t he be too noticeable?”

“He’s staying here. Don’t worry. I’ve a plan.”

“And the distraction?”

“With all that noise, I’m hoping we don’t need one.”

“Lots of hoping going on here, Kerrick.”

“We’ve had flimsier plans.”

Flea grinned. “True. Lead on before they stop.”

They returned to the window and finished pulling off the boards, exposing the stumps of the bars that had been left when they’d used Quain’s lightning juice to cut through them. Kerrick then concentrated on the ivy growing on the fence, encouraging it to weave into a ladder and elongate. It resisted, but he pushed through its reluctance. The effort sapped him and he needed a boost of energy from Flea. Once he recovered, Kerrick dropped the ivy ladder into the cell and then wiggled through the tight opening.

“Stay here,” he instructed Flea. “The prisoners can climb up the ladder. You need to help them out and direct them to Huxley.”

“Okay.”

Kerrick descended. At the bottom he stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. Even with the ivy hanging next to him, he felt the strong tug from the forest and combined with the energy he needed to maintain a normal appearance, he had to be careful not to drain all his strength.

Now accustomed to the dim light, he glanced around. No surprise this cell was empty. But men and women stared at him from its neighbors.

“Who—”

He put a finger to his lips. “I’m here to help you escape.” Kerrick kept his voice low. “It’s very important that you keep quiet and follow my instructions. All right?”

They nodded. Kerrick pulled out his lock picks and went to work. He unlocked the closest cell and showed them the ladder. While they took turns, he unlocked the other cells and searched for Belen. Three to five people shared each cell. No Belen. Grief and frustration mixed into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach.

He asked the others about Belen. “He’s a big guy, black hair, looks like a bear,” Kerrick whispered.

Most didn’t answer, but one woman said, “He’s down below. He fought the guards and gave them such a hard time, they locked him in the pit. Poor guy hasn’t had any food or water in days.”

After all the cells had been opened, Kerrick found the hatch to the pit. It’d been bolted to the floor and secured with a thick lock that shone—brand-new. He cursed under his breath. Inserting his tension wrench and diamond pick, Kerrick wished for Quain’s lightning juice. This wouldn’t be easy. He worked on the lock until his fingers cramped. His energy dipped.

“They’re all out,” Flea said. “Fifteen total.”