Howla whistles. "Well that's no good."

I sputter, glaring over at her. "You think?"

The metal snake blocking our escape hisses, sending me shrieking and stumbling backward through the deepening water as it lashes out at me with hand-length fangs. Our guards continue to watch, pressed against the walls—impassive.

"Didn't you have a sword, before?" I shoot at her as she jumps backward and into me, narrowly avoiding the things jaws.

"I still have it, just not with me. Not allowed," she pants, shoving me back to place herself between me and the monster.

I'd thought as much. After all, I hadn't been able to bring my shakta either.

"Probably wouldn't be much good against this thing anywa-ascht!" Her words devolve into curses as she throws her arm up to catch the creature's next strike. But rather than plunging into her skin, the fangs close together at the other side of her arm, snaring her. Then it whips its head backward and to the side, dragging Howla with it. Still, the guards do nothing.

With the water up to my calves now, I can't think of anything to do but follow as the snake-thing hauls her away and down the corridor to the right. By the time I lurch around the corner to find a set of stairs leading upward, the monster's nearly to the top with Howla in tow, her guards following at a leisurely pace well behind. As I push past them after her, reaching out almost instinctively to the Web in search of some way to be useful, I sense that bright presence again. We're moving closer to it.

For her part, Howla seems to have given up on struggling—resigned to her fate, or perhaps no longer concerned by it.

After all, if her life were truly threatened, wouldn't the guards have stepped in?

I emerge from the stair to find myself on a low, open rooftop. I spin on the spot, looking for Howla and the snake. I'm surrounded by a circle of narrow stone cages, two of which are occupied. The monster coils around the one containing Howla, its tongue flicking outward in my direction. Her guards stand off to either side with two others, all of them motionless.

The other Heir is immediately identifiable by her magnificent walking-chair, a Kolikai gift brought by Rhetrien's delegation to replace the wheeled one she'd used since childhood. One of its pointed feet taps impatiently against the stone of the cage floor. In spite of her expression of bitter frustration, she looks lovely decked out in crimson for the Revelry—her long blue-black locks bound into an elaborate crown of braids atop her head.

Saffryn Lajhir, an Heir of Solrath. I've sketched her, too.

Her dark eyes dart up as I approach, and she leans forward to grasp the stone bars of the cage. "Nikessa, is that you? Can you get us out? I think the snake's-"

But it's already launched itself across the roof, faster than any limbless creature has any business being. And in the next instant it's got my arm in its grip. It drags me over the stone to the nearest cage as I writhe and curse, shoving me through and slamming the metal door shut by heaving itself against it. There's a rythmic series of clinks as the unseen workings of a lock bolt into place.

I throw myself against the door immediately, knowing even as I do that it's useless. But I can't help it.

I'm trapped. I'm trapped. I'm trapped.

My heart goes wild, battering at my rib cage as if to escape, my breath coming in shallow gulps.

Then something light hits me on the head. I reach up automatically to catch it as drops out of my hair. A candied almond. I stare over at Howla, who shrugs—popping another one into her mouth from a pouch hanging at her waist.

"If you don't want it, you can toss it back."

From over in her cage, Saffryn scoffs through her teeth. "Really? Snacks?"

"Want some?"

Fighting to calm myself, I take a long breath—twisting around to face away from them to look out over the labyrinth. The water's coming up everywhere. As I watch, a cluster of Heirs comes splashing out of an opening in one of the walls, heading for a raised pagoda. Then a shadow falls over the last of them, and I glance up in time to see what looks like an enormous metal bat swoop down and scoop one up in its claws. Then it loops around, coming straight for us. Moments later, it's tossing another of the Heirs into the open cage to my side. One whose Ember I've already recognized. Kaidin.

"Nik!" He calls over to me. "Are you alright?"

No!

"I'm fine, I just—we can't get out."

He glances around at the others, then refocuses on the door, pushing against it to no avail. Then he's on to the stone bars—using his artificial hand in a attempt to crush one of them outward, but it's not strong enough. His eyes dart around, seeking out other solutions. Down below, the water's risen to shoulder height.

The other Heirs who'd been with him huddle together under the questionable shelter of the pagoda roof, but the bat-thing's veered away, off in the opposite direction. They begin to shriek, and I can't understand why. Nothing's coming after them, and they're still well above the water. Then something breaks its surface at the foot of the pagoda's stair. Though vaguely human in shape, it couldn't be more clearly inhuman. But it's also not a beast-eater, nor is it a mechanical construct.

Its hulking, faceless form is composed entirely of black goo that trails in tendrils from its limbs and across the water behind it like the train of some horrible gown. The hairs on the back of my neck raise at the sight of it, my stomach clenching at its wrongness-but I reach out across the Web nevertheless.

And I recognize something of myself in it. It's Miretouched.

The Heirs' guards are shoving their way to the forefront now, bristling, telling me that this isn't something they expected. It's not supposed to be here.

But one the Heirs—Rhetrien—is shouting something I can't make out, forcing their way in front of the guards and throwing out their arms as if to defend the thing. They reach out a hand, and the figure takes it—the glop of their otherwise featureless appendage oozing around Rhetrien's hand as they help the thing further up the stair.

The Guards ease up a bit, and some of the braver Heirs come forward. Then one of them shouts again, pointing off and behind the glop-person. Tendrils of iridescent fluid spread through the water, pouring outward from the same exit through which they'd come.

Mire.