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But they didn’t need one. When Rin turned the corner toward the sixth street, Kitay’s location became obvious.
A massive building dominated the block in front of them. Unlike the other buildings, which were Hesperian scaffolds built over Nikara foundations, this had clearly been constructed from scratch. The red bricks gleamed. Stained-glass windows stretched along every wall, depicting various insignia—scrolls, scales, and ladders.
At the center was a symbol Rin knew too well: an intricate circle inscribed with the pattern of a timepiece, complicated gears interlocking in a symmetrical pattern. The symbol of the Gray Company. The Architect’s perfect design.
Jiang whistled. “Well, that’s not a prison.”
“It’s worse,” Rin said. “That’s a church.”
Chapter 15
“This is easy enough,” Jiang said. They stood huddled against the wall of a tea shop across the street, eyeing the church’s thick double doors. “We’ll just kill and impersonate one of those missionary fellows. Drag them into a corner, strip off their cassock—”
“You can’t do that,” Rin said. “You’re Nikara. All the Gray Company are Hesperians.”
“Hmm.” Jiang rubbed his chin. “A devastatingly good point.”
“Servant’s entrance, then?” Daji suggested. “They’ve always got some Nikara on hand to sweep their floors, and I can talk them down until you’ve found Kitay.”
“Too risky,” Jiang said. “We don’t know how many there are, and we need to buy more than five minutes to search.”
“So I’ll ask them what I need, then stick them with needles.”
Jiang reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Darling, people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.”
Daji rolled her eyes.
Rin glanced back toward the church. Then the solution struck her—it was so blindingly obvious, she almost laughed.
“We don’t have to do any of that.” She pointed to the line of Nikara civilians stretching out the front of the building. As if on cue, the heavy double doors swung open, and a brother of the Gray Company stepped outside, hands stretched wide in welcome to the congregation. “We can just walk right in.”
They shuffled into the church with their heads bowed, following obediently behind the rest of the crowd in a single-file line. Rin tensed as they passed the gray-cassocked priest standing at the doors, but all he did was place a hand on her shoulder and murmur low words of greeting as he welcomed her inside, just as he had every person in line before her. He never even glanced at her face.
The church interior was a single wide room with high beams, crammed with low benches arranged in neat double columns. Sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast colorful, oddly beautiful splotches onto the smooth wooden floor. At the front stood a podium on a raised platform where half a dozen gray-robed Hesperians stood waiting, watching imperiously as the Nikara took their seats.
Rin glanced about the room, trying to find doors that might lead to hidden chambers or passageways.
“There.” Jiang nodded across to the other end of the hall, where Rin glimpsed a door tucked behind a curtain. A single priest stood in front of it; a circle of keys hung visibly from his belt.
“Wait here.” Daji broke from the line and strode confidently across the room. The priest’s eyes widened in confusion as she approached, but lost focus as Daji began to speak. Seconds later, the priest passed the keys into Daji’s hands, opened the door, and then walked off in the other direction.
Daji turned over her shoulder and waved impatiently for Rin to join her.
“Go.” She pushed the keys into Rin’s palm. “These open the cell doors. You should be clear for an hour and a half, and then you can join the crowd as they leave.”
“But aren’t you—”
“We’ll cover your exits from up here.” Daji pushed Rin toward the door. “Be quick.”
The Nikara had nearly finished filing into their seats; only a handful of people were still standing. Daji hurried back to Jiang’s side, and together they sat down in the very back row.
Rin almost laughed at the absurdity. She’d come to the New City with two of the most powerful shamans in Nikara history, beings from myths and legends, and here they were paying obeisance to a false god.
A great screech echoed through the hall as the double doors swung closed, trapping them inside. Heart pounding, Rin slipped through the door and hastened down the stairs.
Behind the door lay a winding staircase that emptied out into a dark hallway. Rin pulled a small flame in her hand and held it before her like a torch. They were right—this whole basement had been converted into a prison, cells lining either side of the passageway. Rin shielded her face as she walked, glancing to either side to check for Kitay. She needn’t have bothered. The prisoners were hardly alert. Most were slumped in the corners of their cells, either sleeping or staring into space. A few were moaning quietly, but none gave any indication they’d even noticed her.
How quaint, Rin thought. It made sense that the Hesperians would keep their sinners and believers under the same roof. The Gray Company liked their symmetry. The Divine Architect rallying against Chaos. Light against dark. Worshippers on the top, and sinners on the bottom, the unseen side of the ruthless, unsparing quest from barbarism toward a well-ordered civilization.
Kitay’s cell was at the end of the next corridor. She knew right as she turned the corner. All she saw by her faint flame was the curve of his shoulder and the silhouette of his head, turned away from the bars. But she knew. Her whole body thrummed with longing anticipation, like a magnet straining for its opposite. She knew.
She broke into a run.
He was asleep when she reached his cell, curled up on a cot with his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked so small. His left pant leg was soaked through with blood.
Rin fumbled clumsily with the keys, trying several before she found the one that fit the lock. She yanked hard at the door. It scraped open with a loud metallic screech that echoed down the corridor.
Kitay gave a start and jerked to a sitting position, fists up as if ready to fight.
“It’s me,” she whispered.
He blinked blearily, as if unsure whether or not he was dreaming. “Oh, hello.”
She rushed toward him.
They collided over his cot. He rose halfway to meet her, but she knocked him right back down, arms wrapped tightly around his skinny frame. She had to hold him, feel the weight of him, know that he was real and solid and there. The void in her chest, that aching sense of absence she’d felt since Tikany, finally melted away.
She felt like herself again. She felt whole.
“Took you long enough,” he murmured into her shoulder.
“Could you tell I was coming?”
“Sensed you yesterday.” He drew back, grinning. “I woke up, and it felt like I’d been doused with cold water. Never been happier.”
He looked better than she’d feared. He was thin, of course, but he’d been painfully thin since Ruijin, and his cheekbones protruded no more than they already had. His arms and legs were unbound save for an iron cuff around his left ankle, attached to a chain with enough slack to give him free movement around the cell. He didn’t look like he’d been tortured. There were no cuts, welts, or bruises on his pale skin. The only wounds he’d suffered recently were the gashes he’d opened in his shin.
