Threading the Needle (21 page)

Light flared through the door into the cell where Kara had been thrown as someone thrust it open a crack. Kara blinked into the harshness of the torch, raising one hand to shield her face. Her eyes were gritty with lack of sleep, her entire body coated with a tacky sheen of sweat and blood and grime. Her clothes scraped against her body with every movement, every cut and bruise inflicted by Richten and the Rats the night before aching or itching. Or was it two nights before? She couldn't tell. She'd managed not to scratch herself and make things worse by curling up into a huddle against one wall, arms around her knees, eyes wide in the pitch black of the cell. It had once been a closet or storage room deep in the heart of the building, no more than her body length on each side. Now, the floor was covered in patchy, softened straw that reeked of piss and offal and a strong undercurrent of mold.

She lifted her head from the floor as someone shuffled in. Backlit by the torch, the figure was nothing more than a shadow, reaching out to set a rounded tin on the floor two feet in front of Kara's face.

“Eat. Fletch will return tonight. You'll need your strength.”

“What will he do to us?” After Richten's tortuous questioning last night, she was too angry to be afraid. He'd toyed with them, malicious and sadistic, but he hadn't killed anyone else after Kent. The Dog had been a sacrifice to placate the rest of the Rats, although Kara had no doubts that Richten had enjoyed every minute of his death.

“Eat.”

Outside, someone barked, “Hurry up!”

The figure flinched. As it retreated, Kara caught the profile of a young girl, long hair, maybe ten years old, although it was hard to tell. One of the ruffians from the roof caught the girl's shoulder and shoved her behind him, glaring into the room before shutting the door. The
scrape of a heavy object being pushed in front of the door followed. There was no latch. Kara had checked.

She listened to the shuffling of feet out in the hall as the pinpricks of faint light seeping around the edges of the door faded. Farther away, muted laughter broke the silence. A dog barked excitedly. Someone cursed, the words too distant and muffled to make out, but the intention was clear. It was followed by a harsh slap, a cry, and then sobbing.

Kara levered herself into a seated position, back against the wall, and reached for the tin of food. Her questing fingers found a ragged chunk of bread, obviously a day or two old, and a thick soup or stew. Her stomach knotted in hunger as she brought the tin close to her face and sniffed it. She couldn't tell what it was, but as soon as she scooped some of the stew into her mouth with the bread it didn't matter. The food vanished, the last of the bread stuffed into her mouth before she'd had a chance to taste any of it. She set the tin aside, leaning her head back against the wall behind her.

“How did we get into this mess?”

She closed her eyes, a vision of Kent rising unbidden, Richten's blade jutting from his neck. She hadn't known Kent well, but the shocking abruptness of his death, the cruelty of it—

She shook herself, thrust the images from the rooftop aside, and winced as the various cuts and bruises were reawakened. She brought her fingers to her face, prodded the edges of where Richten had punched her, then touched the split in her lip. Swollen and raw, it had finally stopped bleeding.

The cuts on her arms burned as she traced them, worrying about infection, then she barked out mocking laughter. The sound was loud in the confined space and she flinched. They were all going to be killed, like Kent. Infection should be the least of her worries.

She let her hands fall into her lap and stared at the door. She'd gotten off lightly. Adder had received the worst of the treatment, to the point where Kara had been convinced they were going to kill him, too. They'd kicked him into unconsciousness, then turned their attentions to Jack, Gaven, and Dylan. Richten had wanted Kara to watch, nicking her when she'd turned away. One of the other Rats had wanted to start breaking fingers, but Richten had refused, threatening and then punching the Rat until he'd submitted. That was when Kara realized Richten
was only toying with them. He didn't dare mess with them much more than he already had, not until Fletch arrived.

Shortly after that, as if Richten had realized he'd done everything he could, he'd ordered them brought below. They'd been separated almost instantly once below roof level and into the maze of corridors and rooms. Kara had lost all sense of direction and caught only glimpses of the Rats' living conditions: rooms with cots and hammocks strung haphazardly everywhere, like a crew in the underbelly of a ship; Rats roughhousing in what looked like a banquet hall, half of the floor caved in; a kitchen area that was surprisingly clean and orderly, with an older girl overseeing those cutting up carcasses and vegetables. All of it lit with sporadic torches, the halls and rooms more shadowed than not, walls cracked, plaster pocked and smeared with more and more dirt and grime the deeper into the building they went. The stench grew thicker as well, cut only by the rising smell of dampness and river water.

The last of their group that she'd seen had been Dylan, her fellow Wielder crying out as they shoved him around a corner, twisting his already wrenched knee.

She began knocking her head against the wall behind her. “We have to get out of here. But how? How?”

Dylan and Adder were likely in no condition to resist, much less flee. Gaven and Jack weren't much better. She had no idea what had happened to the rest. They hadn't been paraded onto the rooftop with them, so there was hope that they'd escaped. But would Allan and the rest figure out what had happened to them in time to help? Probably not.

Which left her.

“Think, Kara, think.”

No weapons. Nothing to bargain with. No way to plan and coordinate with the others. She had nothing.

Her head snapped up. “The ley.”

They weren't in Tinker any more. And while the ley system in Erenthrall was in chaos, in parts of the city it was still there.

She reached out, a gesture that had once been habit, and cried out in triumph when she felt the ley respond, stronger than she expected. She sat forward, halfway to her feet, before she realized she didn't know what she could do with it yet. She sank back down and tested it.

A strong line ran beneath the building. It cut diagonally beneath the
water, deep, in what must once have been one of the main lines of the city. Its flow was steady, skirting the edge of the distortion. Kara guessed it was one of the only lines that hadn't been interrupted by the destruction of the Nexus and the resulting quickening. It brushed up against Tinker, angled southwest. Its other end headed northeast, in the direction of the Temerite enclave.

Kara traced out its pathway, then let herself sink into its comforting embrace as she considered her options. She could call it upward, as she'd done when trying to heal the massive distortion over Erenthrall, but could she control it? That was the mentors' job. When there wasn't already an established line, those from the University used the Tapestry to create channels that the Primes and the Wielders could route the ley through for whatever purpose they needed. She'd used well-established tunnels beneath the Nexus to control the ley when healing the distortion after the Shattering. She had no such tunnels here. She'd be calling the ley up through the earth. A Prime might have been able to handle the ley without a University mentor's help, but Kara was no Prime. She'd barely even begun her training. If she tried to call the ley up now, she might end up killing herself and the rest of her group along with the Rats.

She settled back down again, back against the wall. She needed to be patient. The Rats would never expect an attack from the ley. An opportunity would arise. She just had to wait.

And if not, she could always call the ley at the end, burn herself and the Rats to less than ash, like those who had been too close and too exposed to the Nexus when it shattered.

Outside her door, the tread of multiple feet approached. She tensed as they drew nearer, jumped when something thudded to the floor outside. A heartbeat later, her door slammed inward and two Rats poured into the room, more outside. The two in the room snatched up her arms and hauled her to her feet, thrusting her out into the corridor. One of them stumbled on the tin tray her food had been in, the metal clattering.

Kara was brought to an abrupt halt before Richten.

“Fletch is back, and he wants to see you.”

He grabbed her upper arm and propelled her along at his side, the rest of the Rats before and after them whooping and hollering. She wondered if she'd been collected first, or if the others had already been taken to see Fletch.

She got her answer when they emerged onto the roof, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and copper on the horizon. Adder, Gaven, and Jack were kneeling, a Rat Kara assumed to be Fletch standing over them. She didn't see Dylan. Had they killed him already? Or was he still below?

Fletch turned and saw her, and something flickered through his eyes. “Bring her here.”

Richten hauled her forward, twisting her arm. She hissed in pain as she was forced to her knees beside Jack, the tracker not looking at her. One side of his face had swollen up so much he couldn't see out of that eye, the skin a purplish-yellow. The other two didn't look much better.

Fletch shifted toward her, his motions casual. She almost missed the knife he held in one hand. The Rats gathered around them, their anticipation high.

Then Fletch said softly, “I know you.” He laughed, the sound loud, the Rats quieting in surprise. Their leader threw up his arms and shouted as he slowly spun, looking at them all. “I know her!”

Adder and Gaven stared at her. She met both of their gazes in consternation.

The leader of the Rats had completed his spin. In a move too fast for Kara to see, he stepped forward, his free hand wrapping around her throat. He hauled her upright, the muscles in his arm rigid as he squeezed. Her hands seized his wrist of their own volition as she choked. It felt as if her windpipe were being crushed.

Fletch dragged her close, until they were eye-to-eye. “I know you from before. You worked in Tallow for a while.” His grip on her throat tightened. “You're exactly what we've been looking for. A Wielder.

“And you're going to do exactly what I say.”

F
L
ETCH TIGHTENED HIS GRIP
on her throat, then released her. Kara dropped to her knees and gagged, aware that Adder had lurched toward her but had been brought up short by the Rats. She heard him being beaten as she leaned forward onto one hand, the other not quite touching her throat as she heaved in huge gulps of air. Her windpipe felt bruised, the muscles in her neck throbbing from the abuse, but as her lungs filled the ache receded. She hung her head and lowered her other hand to the roof for support, reduced to coughing as she regained control. The Rats roared, the sound pulsing with her blood. To her other side, Fletch barked orders, and Adder's beating stopped. The Rats began to chant, scrambling into motion, and then Fletch turned back to her. She didn't raise her head, but she could feel his eyes on her.

“Watch her, Richten. And have Vole bring up the other one, with the busted knee. We'll take them all.”

“Why?”

“Because we may need them to force her to help.”

Kara choked on phlegm, spat it out onto the rough rooftop, then sat back, wiping the tendril of drool from her lips with the back of her arm. The Rats were snatching up weapons, another group bounding toward the metal contraption they used as a bridge.

Richten lunged forward, grabbed an arm, and wrenched her to her feet. “Get up.” Two other Rats did the same to Adder, but Gaven and Jack were forced to support him. He couldn't keep his feet. Blood and drool dropped from a cracked lip and his breath came in a ragged wheeze. Yet when he caught Kara's attention, she realized he was
overplaying his injuries. He tried to communicate something, but she couldn't figure out what.

Richten thrust her toward the others. “Stay with them. Move or I'll kill you, no matter what Fletch wants.”

They were herded toward the bridge, Rats with spears and knives on either side, prodding them with shoves and glancing blows. A large group ran across to the far building, making the makeshift span bounce with each step. As she reached the edge, Kara glanced down toward the black water she knew ran far below, hidden in the shadows. She contemplated throwing herself over, but as soon as they reached the bridge, Richten called a halt and ordered their hands tied. They tied another rope around their waists. Even if she jumped now, the rope would pull her up short, and they'd haul her back to the roof again.

When they jabbed the butt of a spear into her back, she went, resigned. They untied her on the far side. The rest of her group followed, even Dylan, brought by one Rat, his arm flung over a shoulder. He limped unsteadily, his face sheened with effort.

With the Rats swarming around her, she scanned the surrounding rooftops, searching for Allan, for any of the others, while praying that they'd managed to escape both the Rats and the Tunnelers and had left the rest of them behind.

“I haven't seen anyone.” Gaven still had Adder's arm over his shoulder, although the Dog was standing up straighter now.

“I doubt Allan knows where we are.” Adder's voice was barely audible. “And even if he did know, he should leave us and head back to the Hollow.”

“Why?”

“Because he's a Dog.”

Kara wanted to point out that Allan had abandoned the Dogs long before the Shattering, but the Rat carrying Dylan finished crossing and approached. He shoved the Wielder toward them. “You carry him.” Kara caught him, managed to get one of his arms over her neck, and heaved him up again.

“Where are they taking us?” Dylan asked.

“I don't know. But keep quiet, no matter what happens. They know I'm a Wielder, but they don't know about you. How bad is your leg?”

“I can put some weight on it, maybe walk on my own a ways. But I can't run.”

Fletch and Richten crossed after speaking to the Rats who remained on the roof of their lair. As soon as the two leaders were safely on the far side, hand signals were passed and the bridge was withdrawn. Scouts raced out ahead of them, scrambling down into the holes and crevices in the roof they stood on, half of which Kara hadn't even noticed. A second wave was sent out ahead, and then they were moving.

They descended through the main entrance, down three floors, then through a maze of corridors and rooms. Rats raced out ahead at intervals, others rejoining them to report back before being sent out again, Fletch and Richten never halting. Kara watched them carefully, as did Adder. The group that guarded them fluctuated between twelve and twenty, one or two of them trotting ahead or falling behind on occasion, checking doorways or niches of shadow. The boisterous shouting they'd seen on the rooftops had died away into an efficient, eerie silence, broken only by curt commands from Fletch or Richten, hissed warnings, scuffing feet, and the clatter of weapons.

At one point, they passed from one building to another, three floors above ground, over another bridge. Part of one building had collapsed inward, and they skirted the debris-laden interior. At another collapse, they ascended two floors up, then down again on the far side, the entire western face of the building gone, rubble puddled like a mudslide in the street below. The next window showed that they had moved closer to the distortion, its curved edge reaching up over their heads. The Tiana's waters flowed beside them, but ahead, it poured through a block of shorter buildings, their rooftops a bridge.

Kara glanced over her shoulder, searching the buildings behind. She saw nothing but the Rats. She shrugged Dylan into a new position and mentally bolstered herself at the same time. She couldn't count on anyone rescuing them. They'd have to find their own way out.

She focused on Fletch and Richten and where they were headed, at the same time reaching for the ley again, feeling for its conduits as they passed from the rooftops over the river back into buildings. Now they were steadily descending, the Rats more on edge. The buildings changed architecture as they entered a new district. The ley lines became more erratic as they neared the distortion. She could feel it, like a vibration on the air. Fletch had said he needed a Wielder. But why? What would he—?

Kara halted in her tracks.

“Keep moving,” one of the Rats behind them snapped.

Kara shot a look toward Adder. He nodded. He already knew. He'd been trying to tell her back on the rooftop of the Rats' lair.

“I said, keep moving!” The Rat jammed the butt of his spear into her back and Kara stumbled forward.

“What is it?” Dylan's words were broken by gasps of exertion.

“I know what they need a Wielder for. They want something from the distortion. They must have seen that some of the shards were healed.”

“But that wasn't you. Not until two nights ago anyway.”

“It doesn't matter.” She scanned to see if any of the Rats had been close enough to hear them, but none of them were paying attention.

“What do they want?”

“I don't know. But it looks like we're about to find out.”

Ahead, Fletch and Richten emerged into a back alley, cut left down the narrow passage, and then right into the rear entrance of a large stone building. The back rooms were full of tables, desks, and shelves piled high with books. Most looked as if they were in the process of being transcribed, old tomes spread open on tiny easels, fresh paper in stacks to one side. A few had been stopped in the middle of being copied, text and illuminations only partially filling a new page. Kara was given only a brief glimpse, then they were passing through a set of large doors into the main part of the building. Shelves upon shelves of books were revealed in the Rats' torchlight, the stacks brushing Kara's shoulder on one side. They barely fit three abreast in the main corridor; those branching off to either side were narrower. All of the tomes were old, bound with string with covers in leather or wood. The room smelled of dust and death. Then another set of doors, and they entered the main part of the library.

The cramped inner stacks opened up into aisles, the shelving taller, ceilings higher. The books were newer as well, bindings made with glue, the paper thinner, covers a heavier stock. A few leatherbound editions were mixed in. But the Rats paid no attention to the books, stepping over heaps that had been disgorged during the quakes and lay scattered about the aisles. When they reached the center of the library—a circular open area filled with tables and chairs for study and a large central desk for the librarians—Fletch and Richten slowed. Nearly half of the Rats were ordered out through the foyer, scampering
over the cracked marble floor and through the huge doors that rested partially open. Dust and litter glittered in the amber light that leaked through the entrance, thrown by the distortion.

“No one should be out there.” Kara's escort drew the Hollowers to a halt a few paces behind Fletch. Richten sounded annoyed. “I don't think anyone else knows what's here.”

“I won't risk it. Not when we're this close.”

The leader of the Rats turned to look back at Kara. In the light of the distortion, he looked crazed.

“We have to figure out a way out of here,” Adder muttered.

“How? The Rats are everywhere. And we have no weapons.”

“I can still use the ley.” All of them turned to face her. “It's erratic here, but there's power.”

“We'll follow your lead then. Everyone pay attention. We may have to move quickly.”

No one had a chance to respond. A flurry of Rats came seething back through the door, rushing to report. Richten listened, then turned back to those that had waited inside the building. “It's clear.”

The Rats poured out of the library into the area beyond. A plaza of multicolored flagstone in a diamond pattern spread outward from the library's wide steps and thick columns until it was interrupted by the distortion, the fractured faces rising up and out overhead. Only a small corner near the library remained free. Through the distortion's edges, Kara could see another massive stone building, almost a mirror image of the library, except this building had ironbound, studded double doors and its few windows were narrow and high up. It had a solid weight to it, like a fortress.

Beside her, Adder stiffened in recognition.

“What is it?”

“It's the city watch's armory. It will be jammed with swords, spears, knives—weapons of every kind. Maybe even black powder. We can't let the Rats get their hands on it.”

Fletch had paused at the top of the library's stairs to gaze at the entombed armory. Now he glanced back.

“Heal these shards and free the armory,” he said, “or all of your friends die.”

Allan drew to an irritated halt when Sorelle's hand rose in warning. He and the rest of the Hollowers were surrounded by Sorelle, Jaimes, and the rest of their band, all keeping a careful watch. The other Tunnelers, including Cason, were farther ahead. Sorelle was taking her guard duties seriously. Too seriously. Allan couldn't see anything; they were too far back. The sword he'd been given was useless. He flexed and tightened his grip on the hilt in frustration.

When he took a few steps forward, coming up on Sorelle from behind, she spun, her own blade half-raised. “What are you doing?”

Allan raised his free hand, palm out. “I can't see a damned thing. How do you expect us to help you if we're this far back? By the time we know the fighting has started it will already be over.”

Sorelle let the tip of her blade drop. “I don't trust you.”

“You've made that perfectly clear. But we can't help if we can't see what's going on.”

Sorelle relented, motioning them forward. Glenn and Cutter joined Allan at the edge of the roof next to Sorelle and two of her group. Artras, Tim, and Carter remained behind with Jaimes, Laura, and the others.

The roof looked out over a slew of random rooftops, each building of different architecture, of varied heights, but all only two or three stories tall. Allan recognized the house he'd used to watch the Rats a few nights before, and beyond it, the Rats' lair. Scattered over the buildings below, the shadows of the Tunnelers crept forward, taking advantage of the broken rooflines as cover. Cason and Ren each led a small group of twenty. The rest of the Tunnelers must have remained behind.

He shifted his attention to the Rats' domain, squinting at the distance. “There's not much activity. Not like before.”

“Maybe your friends are already dead. The Rats don't keep prisoners alive for long.”

“Or maybe they aren't there any longer.”

“We'll know soon enough. We have watchers on the lair. Cason will check in with them.”

Allan settled in. His gaze darted across the Rats' rooftop, then below to where Cason and Ren converged and conferred. The Rats were too quiet. He couldn't shake the feeling that the lair was mostly empty, only a token force left behind. He counted at most twenty people visible,
half of them on sentry duty, the others scattered around the few fires. There had been many more the night he'd watched them slaughter the Temerites.