thrustingupfromthesea.She’dseenitfromafarbefore,whenshe’dpaidafishermantotakeherout to the island. But when she’d asked him to bring her closer, he’d refused. “Sharks get mean there,”
he’dclaimed.“Belliesfullofconvictblood.”Ninashudderedatthememory.
A door had been propped open, and another member of the Dime Lions led Nina and the others inside.Theyenteredadark,surprisinglycleankitchen,itswallslinedwithhugevatsthatlookedbetter suited to laundry than cooking. The room smelled strange, like vinegar and sage. Like a mercher’s kitchen , Nina thought. The Kerch believed that work was akin to prayer. Maybe the merchant wives came here to scrub the floors and walls and windows, to honour Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce, with soap and water and the chafing of their hands. Nina resisted the urge to gag. They could scrub all they liked. Beneath that wholesome scent was the indelible stench of mildew, urine, andunwashedbodies.Itmighttakeanactualmiracletodislodgeit.
They passed through a dank entry hall, and she thought they would head up into the cells, but instead they passed through another door and onto a high stone walkway that connected the main prisontowhatlookedlikeanothertower.
“Where are we going?” Nina whispered. Kaz didn’t answer. The wind picked up, lifting her veil andlashinghercheekswithsaltspray.
As they entered the second tower, a figure emerged from the shadows, and Nina barely stifled a scream.
“Inej,”shesaidonawaveringbreath.TheSuligirlworethehornsandhigh-neckedtunicofthe GreyImp,butNinarecognisedheranyway.Nooneelsemovedlikedthat,asiftheworldweresmoke andshewasjustpassingthroughit.
“Howdidyouevengethere?”Ninawhisperedtoher.
“Icameearlieronasupplybarge.”
Ninagroundherteeth.“DopeoplejustcomeandgofromHellgateforfun?”
“Onceaweektheydo,”saidInej,herlittleimphornsbobbingalongwithherhead.
“Whatdoyoumeanoncea—”
“Keepquiet,”Kazgrowled.
“Don’tshushme,Brekker,”Ninawhisperedfuriously.“Ifit’sthiseasytogetintoHellgate—”
“Theproblemisn’tgettingin,it’sgettingout.Nowshutupandstayalert.”
Ninaswallowedheranger.ShehadtotrustKaztorunthegame.He’dmadesureshedidn’thave anyotherchoice.
They entered a tight passageway. This tower felt different from the first, older, its rough-hewn stone walls blackened by smoking torches. Their Dime Lion guide pushed open a heavy iron door andgesturedforthemtofollowhimdownasteepstaircase.Herethesmellofbodiesandrefusewas worse,trappedbythesweatingmoistureofsaltwater.
Theyspiralledlower,intothebowelsoftherock.Ninaclungtothewall.Therewasnobanister, andthoughshecouldnotseethebottom,shedoubtedthefallwouldbekind.Theydidn’tgofar,but by the time they reached their destination, she was trembling, her muscles wound taut, less from exertion than the knowledge that Matthias was somewhere in this terrible place. He is here. He is underthisroof.
“Wherearewe?”shewhisperedastheyduckedthroughcrampedstonetunnels,passingdarkcaves fittedwithironbars.
“Thisistheoldprison,”Kazsaid.“Whentheybuiltthenewtower,theyleftthisonestanding.”
Sheheardmoaningfrominsideoneofthecells.
“Theystillkeepprisonershere?”
“Onlytheworstofthem.”
Shepeeredbetweenthebarsofanemptycell.Therewereshacklesonthewall,darkwithrustand whatmighthavebeenblood.
Throughthewalls,asoundreachedNina’sears,asteadypounding.Shethoughtitwastheoceanat first, but then she realised it was chanting. They emerged into a curving tunnel. To her right were moreoldcells,butlightpouredintothetunnelfromstaggeredarchwaysontheleft,andthroughthem sheglimpsedaroaring,rowdycrowd.
TheDimeLionledthemaroundthetunneltothethirdarchway,whereaprisonguarddressedina blue-and-greyuniformwasposted,rifleslungacrosshisback.“Fourmoreforyou,”theDimeLion
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