“If we do that, we’ll be just as lost in the middle of the ocean,” Cecily answered. “Let’s find the river. Come on—I think it was this way.”

They swam along the mouth of the trench, and Barclay was careful not to look inside. Its darkness frightened him. They kept moving until they heard the familiar roar of the river, and then Barclay was relieved to spot more Firenekkies ahead, lighting their way.

Unfortunately, at least an hour had passed since they’d taken the wrong turn down the stream. The others were certainly wondering where they were.

“This was a bad idea,” Barclay groaned.

“At least we didn’t die,” said Cecily cheerily.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Then a light appeared in the distance, and Cecily nearly leapt beside him, waving. “That must be Viola!”

But it wasn’t Viola. It was Runa, clutching a Firenekkie lantern similar to Cecily’s. She wore a Polypop across her mouth, but even so, Barclay could see her furious frown.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘hot water’?” she asked. “Because you are all in a heap of trouble.”

NINE

The next morning, the seven apprentices gathered solemnly in the Guild House.

It had been a dreadful night, and Barclay hadn’t slept a second of it. He’d been too petrified over what judgment their teachers would dole out in the morning. In Dullshire, rulebreakers were punished with hours locked in the pillory or—for the gravest offenses—banished entirely. What if Runa fired them all as apprentices? Or worse, what if Runa fired just him?

Barclay could feel the disapproving stares of all the Guardians in the Guild House, and he guessed the other apprentices could too. Beside him, Hasu hung her head miserably. Tadg had his arms crossed. And Viola had fiddled with the baubles on her coat so much that several had popped off.

Finally, Runa and Cyril entered. It was strange to see them side by side without arguing. Probably because they were angrier at their students than they were at each other.

“What you did,” Cyril told them seriously, “was reckless, irresponsible, and immeasurably dangerous. You could’ve each been killed.”

Cyril’s gaze dragged over them one by one, and it was so dour that, despite not knowing Cyril at all, Barclay felt that he had personally and grievously offended him.

“What would I have told each of your parents?” Cyril continued. “What would the Chancellor of the University of Al Faradh say to learn his only child had snuck out for the sake of some contest?”

Shazi looked down shamefully at her lap.

“Or High Keeper Mayani of the Jungle, that her daughter could’ve drowned last night at the bottom of the Sea?”

Hasu anxiously bit her fingernails.

The daughters of a university chancellor, a High Keeper, and the Grand Keeper? Apparently Cyril only taught the children of important people.