“You are going to run out of knife,” Rhazek says.
“I’m going to run out of everything at this rate. Pull.”
He pulls and the latch gives with a shriek. The cage door kicks outward. Rhazek tries to stand and almost folds. I get under his arm before he can object.
The dead hook at his forearm catches on the frame. Rhazek pulls it free with a hiss, then slides the green-black crescent out from under his throat plate. Blood wells along the old collar scar, but nothing lights. Nothing answers.
He looks down at me.
“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say thank you.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
“Yes.”
I almost laugh, but another tremor kills the urge. We stagger toward the service opening.
Syin looks at Rhazek, looks at the gap, then starts smashing the right edge of the frame with his lochaber.
Renn takes the left.
“Subtle,” I say.
“The chamber is collapsing,” Syin snaps.
“Fine. I’ll allow it.”
The frame tears loose from the wall.
Rhazek ducks and turns sideways. His good wing folds tight. I take the damaged one carefully in both hands and guide it through without letting the torn edge catch.
He makes it halfway before one horn clips the upper frame. He stops. I stare at him. He stares at me.
“This is not the moment,” he says.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
Renn makes a choking sound behind us.
“Push,” I tell him.
Renn does. Rhazek comes through with considerably less dignity than he probably prefers, but we’re moving.
The service passage climbs sharply under the ridge. It was built around the transport rails, not for people. Broken brackets catch at our boots. Supports hang low enough that Rhazek and the Zmaj have to duck. Behind us, something enormous is turning the buried chamber into rubble.
The first collapse hits before the second bend.
Dust punches through the passage. I lose my footing and slam shoulder-first into the wall. Pain flashes down my arm. Rhazek catches me around the waist before I hit the floor.
“I have you.”