She pushed her hair back from her face and turned toward the muddy crack in the earth. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to do this. Once she got back to Trehaug, they could send a rescue party after the Satrap. Perhaps a time sitting marooned on this hummock of land would teach him a little humility.

“Wait!” he commanded. “Malta Vestrit? The girl from the Summer Ball?”

She looked over her shoulder. She acknowledged the connection with a nod.

“Leave me here, and I will never send my ships to rescue your father!” he informed her grandiosely.

“Your ships?” She laughed, a bit wildly. “What ships? You never intended to help me. I am surprised you can even remember that you said you would.”

“Fetch the boat and row us to safety. Then you shall see how a Satrap of Jamaillia keeps his promises.”

“Probably much the same way as he honors the charters of his ancestors,” Malta scoffed. She turned her back and began to climb back down into the dark. Far down the corridor, she heard sounds like distant but thunderous applause. Dread rose in her. Drowned in memories. She knew what it meant now. Could she traverse the city again and remain herself? She forced herself to keep going. Once more, she scrabbled over the boats, noting in passing that they were not as dilapidated as she had thought. Some sort of hammered metal had been applied to the hulls. As she clambered over them, her hands came away powdered white where she had touched them. Far down the corridor, there was another roar of applause. She walked slowly toward it, but suddenly a cloud of dust wafted into her face. She coughed and choked for a moment. When she blinked her eyes clear of grit and looked down the corridor, she could see a mist of dust hanging in the air. She stared a moment longer, refusing to recognize what she instinctively knew. The corridor had caved in. There was no going back that way.

She swayed with weariness, then stiffened her back and stood straight. When it was all over, then she could rest. She walked back slowly to the stacked rowboats. She eyed them skeptically. The top one had broken seats. She picked at a splinter of it, then recognized the wood. Cedar. Her father called it eternity wood. She began to work the top boat loose from the others, to see if the one below it might be better.

REYN? REYN, DEAR, WE NEED YOU. YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP NOW."

He rolled away from the gentle voice and the hands that plucked at him. “Go away,” he said distinctly, and dragged the pillow over his head. Dimly he wondered why he was sleeping in his clothes and shoes.

Bendir had always been more direct. He seized his younger brother's ankles. Reyn came all the way awake as he thudded onto the floor. He was instantly furious.

“Bendir!” Mother rebuked him, but his brother was unrepentant.

“We don't have time to talk nicely. He should have come as soon as the bell rang. I don't care how lovesick he is, or how hungover.”

The words penetrated both his anger and sleepiness. “The bell? A cave-in?”

“Half the damn city has fallen in,” Bendir explained tersely. “While you were drunk enough to walk on your lips, we had two quakes last night. Sharp shocks. We have crews digging in and shoring up as we go, but it's taking a long time. You know the structure of the city better than anyone does. We need you.”

“Malta? Is Malta all right?” Reyn asked anxiously. She had been in the dragon chamber. Had they got her out in time?

“Forget Malta!” his brother ordered him roughly. “If you want to worry about someone, the Satrap and his woman are blocked in down there, unless they're already dead. That would be a fine irony, for us to bring him up the river to protect him only to have him die in the city.”

Reyn staggered upright. He was already dressed, down to his boots. He pushed his wild curls back from his face. “Let's go. You got Malta out all right, last night?”

The question was no more than a formality. His brother and mother would not be so calm if she were trapped down there.

“That was just a dream you had,” Bendir said roughly.

Reyn halted where he stood. “No,” he said flatly. “It wasn't. She went into the city, to the Crowned Rooster Chamber. I told you that. I know I did. I told you that you had to get her out of there. Didn't you do it?”

“She's sick in bed, not down in the city,” Bendir exclaimed in annoyance.

His mother had gone pale. She set her hand to the doorframe and clutched it. Breathlessly she said, “Keffria came to me at dawn. Malta was not in her bed. She thought-” she shook her head at both of them. “She thought her daughter might be with Reyn. We came here, and of course, she was not. Then, the bell rang and. . .” Her voice trailed off. More determinedly, she added, “But how could Malta have reached the city, let alone gone into it? She has scarcely left her bed since she got here. She would not know the way, let alone how to reach the Crowned Rooster Chamber.”