“Domenic,” I decided. “His town house isn’t far from here, and we need to talk to him anyway. He’s got the influence to turn the other nobles of the Council of Lords against Savony once they know the truth, and the Ardentine military will listen to him. If we get him the children, he can help us stop the war.”

“Right.” Zaira handed me back my satchel. “Let’s get these villains rounded up and go.”

It took precious time to gather all the children in the darkness and explain to them the importance of staying together, keeping quiet, and ducking under the mirrors in the hallway. Twice I had to chase down Padric, a sturdy boy of perhaps six with far more energy than anyone should have after being imprisoned in a cellar for two weeks, because he kept bolting for the door. The effort left me short of breath. Finally, we had them lined up between me and Marcello.

Zaira went first, to check if the way was clear. She paused before entering the hall, her wild curls backlit by the lamplight.

“All right, brats. Remember—heads down.”

She crouched low and made her way down the mirrored corridor. The lamps glowed on, the mirrors staring blankly back at them. At the far end, she straightened, then cracked the door and peered out. The child behind me started forward, but I stuck out an arm to hold him back.

“Not yet,” I murmured. My pulse surged quickly in my veins. If Savony’s ruffians waited outside, we’d have to fight.

After a long moment, Zaira stepped outside the warehouse and glanced around. She beckoned to us from the open doorway, the night at her back. It was safe to go.

“Stay low,” I told the children lined up behind me. Wide eyes and solemn nods came in reply.

I bent over and started down the hall. A wave of dizziness surged through me with the change of position. Not now. I ran my hand along the wall to steady myself.

The children followed, with Marcello at the rear to make sure no one got left behind. Zaira waited in the doorway, candlelight warming her back as she stared into the stark night outside, tense and poised as a gull ready to take flight. I stepped past the last mirror to meet her, straightening.

A whisper and a scuffle came behind me. Jaslyn called, “Padric, no!”

I spun, finger raised to my lips, but it was too late. Padric strained on tiptoe, trying to see into a mirror, while Jaslyn and a couple other children lunged at him to drag him down.

The runes circling the mirror flashed with blue light.

A squealing clamor tore the air. Something dark and massive crashed down from the ceiling.