“You don’t think you should change into human clothes before you go?” Grady asked.

“The gnomes are reporting rain in the city,” Mr. Forkle said. “Which will clear the streets and make our capes appear far more normal should someone somehow spot us beyond the protection of the obscurer. This mission may seem hasty, but I assure you, I would not make it if I foresaw any dangers—no matter how grumpy it might make your daughter.”

Grady cracked a smile at that, strangling Sophie with a hug before Mr. Forkle removed the hourglass from his pocket and handed it to him.

“That will last twenty-five minutes,” Mr. Forkle explained.

“I thought it was ten,” Sophie said.

“It lasts however long I need it to. Is everyone ready?” He offered Sophie his hand, and she tried not to tremble as Fitz took her other hand and the rest of their group formed a tight circle.

“I’ll be waiting,” Grady said, holding the hourglass ready to flip.

Mr. Forkle nodded. “We’ll be back by the final grain of sand.”

FOURTEEN

THE DWARVES WERE right about the rain. In fact, “downpour” would’ve been a better word. The fat, sloshy drops fell so fast they blurred the scenery, bouncing off the gravelly ground and soaking Sophie’s group from both above and below.

She could feel the dirty water seeping through her boots when Linh waved one arm back and forth, twisting the rain into thin, gurgling streams and weaving a weblike bubble around them. She pulled her other arm into her chest, drawing the moisture out of their hair and clothes.

“Seriously,” Fitz told her. “You’re amazing.”

Linh’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “My ability makes it easy.”

“I wouldn’t sell yourself short,” Mr. Forkle corrected. “This is remarkable control.”

“He’s right,” Fitz said, unable to take his eyes off Linh.

“Shouldn’t we keep moving?” Sophie asked, sounding grumpier than she meant to.

“We should,” Mr. Forkle said. “Just let me get my bearings.”

They’d leaped to the edge of some sort of garden, where neat rows of trees led toward an extravagant palace surrounded by flowers and benches and statues and a lake-size fountain. The place was probably a huge tourist trap on a clear day, but for the moment it was empty, save for one couple clinging to their cheap umbrellas as they scurried around looking for better shelter.

“Relax,” Mr. Forkle said as Sandor and Grizel clutched the handles of their swords. “The obscurer will do its job.”

Linh kept the rain away as they headed toward a narrow gate in the iron-and-gold fence, but her legs were shaking from the strain by the time they reached a main street.

“It’s fine,” Tam told her. “Getting wet isn’t going to kill us.”

“But the water smells like pollution. Besides. If I could hold back a tidal wave in Ravagog, I can hold back a little rain.”

“I seem to remember us having to carry you while you did that,” Tam reminded her.

“Well, this time I’ve got it covered.” But she nearly tripped as they ran through the puddled crosswalk.

“How much longer until we’re there?” Sophie asked as Fitz wrapped his arm around Linh’s waist to keep her steady.

The city looked familiar—narrow streets, stone buildings with iron balconies, charming cafés with bright awnings, and tiny cars that looked more like toys than actual transportation. But she didn’t recognize anything. No sign of the Eiffel Tower. Or Pont Alexandre III, with its fancy lanterns. She couldn’t even see the Seine.

“We’re close,” Mr. Forkle promised, ducking down a street that felt more like an alley. Cars were parked right on the sidewalk.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drive around in these things,” Fitz said.

“Did you ever ride in one?” Tam asked Sophie.

“Pretty much every day,” she said.

“Wow—was it scary?” Linh asked.

Mr. Forkle said “yes” at the same time Sophie said “no.”

“You drove?” Sophie asked.

“Of course not. But occasionally I was unable to avoid being a passenger—and there is nothing quite so terrifying as putting your life in the hands of a distracted human who’s operating a piece of deadly machinery they only marginally understand and can hardly control. It’s a wonder any of them survive the process.”

A siren blared in the distance, making a different wail than the police cars Sophie was used to hearing, followed by screeching tires and a whole lot of honking.

“Case in point,” Mr. Forkle told them, turning down an even narrower alley lined with trash cans.

“Lovely place the Neverseen chose,” Tam grumbled as Mr. Forkle dropped to his knees in front of a gunk-encrusted manhole cover.

“It gets worse,” Mr. Forkle warned.

“Is that their symbol?” Fitz pointed to the curved markings etched along the grimy circle of metal—and he was right. The whole pattern was made of the Neverseen’s round eyes.

“See?” she told Mr. Forkle. “Bet you didn’t notice that last time.”

“I did not,” Mr. Forkle admitted as he twisted the cover and lifted it free.

Dread clawed around Sophie’s stomach as she stared at the ladder descending into the darkness. “Wasn’t there an elevator?”

“They collapsed that tunnel to stop me from coming back. Took me a whole day to find this back entrance—and it’s not a direct access point. We still have a journey underground.”

“I’ll go first,” Sandor said, already lowering himself onto the ladder. “And I’ll scout the path ahead.”

“You might want to duck when you’re down there,” Mr. Forkle warned. “I remember the ceilings being rather low. You’ll also need this.”

He removed a long necklace and breathed on the crystal pendant, letting the heat reignite the blue balefire dormant inside.

“Got any more of those?” Fitz asked as Sandor disappeared into the darkness.

“Unfortunately, no,” Mr. Forkle said. “So hopefully you remember your Exillium training. You covered night vision, right?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t good at it,” Fitz mumbled.