Page 98 of City of Stone and Silence

Tori will be waiting. It’s easier to convince myself of that, now. She will be. I just have to get there.

“In any event,” Silvoa is saying, “you’re right that you don’t have long if you want to take control of Soliton. When it finishes emptying its reserve into the Harbor, it’ll leave to get more, and then you’re stuck. Another couple of days at most.”

“Right.” I nod, but I’m grinning now, and it seems to confuse her. “That means we have to change Catoria’s mind.”

“That was never easy,” Silvoa says. She smiles, too. “Stubborn girl.”

“I have an idea.” I look between the two of them. “But I’m going to need your help.”

I never learned to ride a horse.

Meroe finds this odd—in Nimar, riding is as basic a skill as dressing yourself, especially for a princess. But in Kahnzoka, riding horses are the toys of the very rich, ill-suited to the cramped, cluttered streets. The horses I grew up with were draft animals, big, shaggy beasts bred to pull heavy loads. In the Sixteenth Ward, even these were rare, and mules and donkeys were more common, with a few ox-teams working at cargo winches on the docks.

Even if I had somehow found the time to learn to ride, however, I don’t think it would have helped. I don’t know what riding a horse is like, but I can’t imagine it’s very similar to riding an angel.

I sit on Hagan’s back, trying to find something to hold on to. The angel doesn’t have any fur, let alone reins, so I’m reduced to grabbing at its thick, stony neck. There’s no rock or sway to its gait, each foot placed precisely and with effortless strength, leaving its back as flat and steady as a cobbled square. But around us, the landscape blurs, and my stomach lurches as Hagan shifts back and forth, smoothly avoiding the trees.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

I’d rushed back into the ziggurat to tell Meroe I’d be gone a while longer, and to consult Jack about what she’d seen in the Cresos stronghold. Armed with this information, Hagan and I set out, crossing the ground between our building and theirs at what turns out to be a blistering pace.

I can’t communicate with Hagan like this, but I explained the plan before we set out. He veers to the left as soon as the Cresos ziggurat comes into view, circling around it through the jungle, away from the main entrance. The sheer size of the thing makes it hard to keep watch, especially at night. Away from the main ramps, there are no prying eyes.

Nor should there be, of course. The Cresos are on the lookout for Prime’s monsters, or possibly a sneak attack from the Minders. Neither would assail an empty side of the step-pyramid, which would mean a long, exhausting climb up the man-sized blocks. For Hagan, however, the great steps of the ziggurat are an easy stride, and he ascends the building without even slowing down.

The way in at the very top of the pyramid is unguarded, just as Jack reported. Hagan skids to a halt on the flat platform, and I slide gratefully off his back, clutching my satchel under my arm. The entrance is blocked by a barred trapdoor, secure enough against Prime’s creatures, but no match for a Melos blade. I saw through the bar in a few moments and haul the thing open, then drop down into darkness.

This is the most dangerous part, while I’m creeping around alone. Any wandering guard will, quite rightly, assume I’m up to no good and sound the alarm. I really don’t want that to happen, and I also really don’t want to have to kill anyone.

Fortunately, both Jack’s tour and the information she got from Shiara indicate that the Cresos are stretched thin. Their non-Imperial servants sleep in barracks down below, and the Cresos nobility in the small chambers up above, with guards on the main entrances and outside a few of the rooms. Guest quarters, however, are on the next level up, and patrols are limited to an occasional check of the main stairway. I arrive during one of these, and flatten myself against the wall until the lantern-light below fades away. Then I pad down, moving as quietly as I can, and turn into the web of passages.

Finding Shiara’s door is easy, since it’s the only one showing a light beneath the curtain. I pause outside it, then rap my knuckles against the stone. It doesn’t produce much sound, but the light flickers, as though someone has moved in front of it.

“Is someone there?” Shiara says, quietly.

“It’s Isoka,” I whisper back.

“Isoka?”

“Can I come in without you screaming?”

She doesn’t answer, and I push the curtain aside. Shiara is standing on the other side of a sparsely furnished room, wearing a silk nightgown and looking perplexed. I move inside and out of view of the doorway, just in case.

“I take it,” Shiara says, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I broke in through the roof,” I tell her cheerfully. “You should tell our hosts it’s a flaw in their security.”

“Through the roof? How did—never mind.” She shakes her head, long hair swaying. I’ve rarely seen Shiara with her hair unbound and face unpainted. She looks almost like an entirely different person—less poised, more human. “What are you doing here?”

“I need you to help me get to Catoria.”

“Get to—” Her eyes narrow. “If you’re planning to hurt her…”

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing like that, I swear it. I have something to show her, and it has to be alone. I don’t want her uncle Toranaka interfering.”

She lets out a breath. “I can see that. But what are you going to do when she screams for the guards?”

“I’ll deal with that when we get to it.” Actually, I have no plan for that, other than hoping like rot it doesn’t happen. “Can you get me into her room?”