“Oh.” Well, then. That was better. Rector made a show of thinking about it, harder than he needed to. “I don’t hear anybody. Do you?”

“No.”

“Me neither. There’s two ways up and down that thing. Should we split up?”

“No!” Houjin said abruptly. “Why double our odds of getting caught? We pick one side, and go up together. If we pick wrong, you know the story—you’re here ’cause Otis’s men sent you inside, and I hate Yaozu because … because he poisoned my father, or whatever else you feel like saying on the fly. If we pick right, we sneak up without anybody bothering us. And we should hurry, before Caplan’s people return from the Station.”

“Right, right. Good point.” Rector shifted his position, and his knee popped. “You got your big sharp iron thing?”

“Yes. You got that ax?”

“Yeah. I like it better than the pick.”

“Then let’s go do this.”

And before Rector had a chance to change his mind, Houjin left their cover and made for the tower’s rear entrance.

The darkness there was unnervingly deep. The sun was still up, but shadowed, and nightfall would be on its way soon enough. The boys didn’t light their lanterns, but left them slung over their backs, affixed to the straps on the bags with all their supplies.

The back door looked as black as the entrance to a train tunnel. It was even curved in an intimidating arch, and was fixed with a gate—same as the one out front. But this gate had fallen away; one of its hinges had rusted through, and it leaned sharply toward the ground. Beyond it, there was nothing but midnight, and the faint suggestion that somewhere higher up, there might be a tiny bit of light to guide them.

Rector and Houjin swallowed hard as they stared into the inscrutable void.

Rector had never seen Houjin balk before, not like this. But it wouldn’t be good to chicken out even worse than a younger boy, so he steeled himself and straightened his shoulders. “I’m oldest, so I’ll go first.”

Huey said, “Fine with me,” like he didn’t care, but he sounded relieved.

Steeling himself, teasing himself with the thought of sap waiting at the top, Rector led the way up the short hill and around the curved walkway.

And then inside.

Because he could not see, he held out his hands, still wearing the scraped-up gloves he’d gotten from Fang and had not yet replaced. He stretched his fingers as wide as they’d go and swayed his arms slowly. He was desperately afraid that he would hit something, and, likewise, desperately afraid that he wouldn’t.