It would later be called the Night of Torches. Franzen had taken control of the country, slowly strangling all political power from his brother, Fenreigh. His supporters and soldiers had taken to the streets in the night, torching business and dragging prominent officials out of their homes and submitting them to the mercy of the mobs.

But all was quiet at Number 6 Cheeseman street.

Shouting soldiers burst into the home, slashing at delicately embroidered pillows and hacking at delicately tended plants that shivered, even in the becalmed air. The forge at the back of the property was looted, the coals scattered across the garden and the half finished spools of golden wire pocketed by looting hands. Upstairs, the four beds were hacked to pieces, feathers flying everywhere as the pillows that had stuffed the linens exploded.

The four mages were gone.


Niko ducked his head as booted feet stomped the street above him, wincing as the reverberations brought filth from the roof of the sewers down onto his head. He eyed his four companions, wishing ruefully that he'd had enough time to grab his own cloak- what he wouldn't give for a cowl right now.

Daja cocked her head, looking up at the stone with a calm look on her face. "They've gone." She said, cocking her ear as the clanging of soldiers gear receded from her senses. She spoke aloud almost entirely for Niko's benefit.

"We can follow the sewers to the docks." Tris put in, her head slightly bowed. Niko winced in sympathy. Tris had sprouted almost an entire foot since their return to Emelan five years ago. She was a towering 6 foot now and the sloping sides of the tunnel left little comfort for anyone of that height. Chime whimpered quietly from her perch on the weather mages' shoulder.

"Are you certain?" Briar asked, pulling his cloak up tighter against the chill of the stones around him.

Tris's voice was droll. "After traipsing about the sewers when I was twelve I had many a nightmare about being trapped down here. I made it a priority to memorize my way about."

Despite their dire conditions, Briar was barely able to stifle a grin. "Only you, Coppercurls."

Sandry stayed silent, her eyes slightly out of focus as she stared at the opposite wall.

Don't even think about it. Daja warned through their link, shifting a little closer to her saati as Niko, Tris, and Briar plotted out their escape route. You know we'd never let you go through with it, even if your cousin would let the rest of us escape with our lives.

I know. Sandry replied miserably. Her eyes were dull with guilt. I know that Franzen can't afford to have us live. We're too powerful by far for him to have around, even if he was somehow able to bind us to his service. She sighed, leaning into her foster-sisters comforting shoulder. I still can't help but feel like if it wasn't for me, no one would be forced to leave their homes.

That's silly. Briar said, cutting into their conversation as the group began to follow Tris's lead, with Niko bringing up the rear to vanish any tracks left behind. Without you, there would be no us. He glanced back at his sisters confused face. We'd probably have died in the earthquake, hm?

Probably. Tris added, before taking a sharp left to a dead end. A rusty metal ladder was bolted to the wall and above them was the slatted grate of a storm drain, leading to the street above. Presumably the docks.

"Ladies first." Niko said courteously, his mustache twitching slightly despite the gravity of their situation.

Tris didn't smile, but her curtsey was exaggerating and mocking. She went up first, sending out her breezes to see if anyone was nearby before popping the grate out of its berth. "Coast is clear." She said, keeping low behind the boxes of cargo that conveniently kept her out of view.

Their joking was gone. Only grim faces remained that shone with resolve. It was life or death now. If they were caught it would mean a painful death deprived of magic and public execution for attempting to circumvent the new Duke of Emelan's rule.

Daja's hand tightened to a fist. She was not afraid of a pox-ridden, midden-eating parasite such as Fenreigh. If she had a second, even a brief moment of weakness, she'd have consumed him in fire hotter than any ever created in her force. Her lips tightened. She hoped he burned in pijule fakol, the place where those who didn't pay their debts spent the entirety of their afterlife.

"This place is crawling with guards." Briar muttered, casting his eyes over the bustle of men across the wooden planking. "How on earth are we to get away?"

Niko motioned to the far end of the docks where, to those with the sight, was visible a shimmer in the air. "Hidden, of course."

"It's not going to do any good if we can't get to it." Tris pointed out diplomatically. She adjusted her glasses as they slipped again; damn this head and her trice-damned sweat!

"I'm confident in you four's ability to wreak havoc." Niko said dryly, making for the manhole again.

"The four of us?" Sandry spoke up. "You aren't coming?"

Niko shook his head. "I have others to get to safety." He looked regretful.

"Lark and Rosethorn?" Briar asked, fear gripping in his chest at the thought of his foster-mother killed in her bed at the hands of soldiers.

"They're fine." Niko said. "I assure you, they were out of Emelan yesterday evening. They knew very well what the political climate was and how dangerous it'd be if they were found napping. I suppose they've taken Evvy and Comas away to a safe house."

"Glaki?" Tris asked sharply, her heart aching for her little girl. Worry had paralyzed her. Was this what a parent felt like?

"She's waiting for you." Niko said, jerking his head towards their hidden ship. Her gave all four of them one last long look, almost as if he were memorizing their faces- and disappeared down the railing into the sewers below.

The four were quiet for a moment before Briar spoke roughly. "I'll get the cover."

Sandry merely nodded, her face pinched in misery. It had sounded a lot like Niko never expected to see them again, as if he didn't think he'd make it past tonight alive.

"Let's go." Daja said quietly, shifting her hands on her staff. They all reached deep into their magic simultaneously, drawing on their well of power. Then, as one, they directed their magic toward the men that lounged along the docks.

Briar caused boards beneath their feet to crack, sending boots through once solid deck. Daja sent heat to metal- swords superheated in hands and men ripped their belts off in their hurry to get the cherry hot belt buckle away from their skin. Tris stirred the water beneath the quay, sending crashing waves to sweep soldiers into the scummy harbor water. Sandry smiled grimly; she undid all the leather work, all the weaving with a passion. There was no stitch left untouched, nor man left clothed.

It reminded Tris uncannily of Namorn.

In the confusion that followed it was only a matter of time before they could sneak onto the ship waiting for them, a deep water sloop that was easily guided by a small crew of four. The men running around in confusion could hardly hear the sound of snapping sails over their own panicked cries.