The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (23 page)

Ahead, a stone bridge crossed one of many creeks. It formed a short, steep arc, forcing them the slow. "I should have enough air to get us to Harborton. If I have to light the jet again, we're likely going in the water. Be ready."

Kira had no chance to reply before he sent them hurtling across the countryside, only one headlamp to show the way. The closer they drew to Harborton, the better maintained the cart trail. Carrying speed, they passed an airing station, its turret unmanned. At least one thing had gone their way. As the car chattered down the main cobbled thoroughfare, Bent looked to his mirrors, checking for pursuit. Seeing none, Kira was ready when Bent locked up the rear wheels and sent them skidding and smoking to a halt, sparks flying from spiked tires. Squarely facing a cellar door, they waited only an instant before Chaffy's little brother Hamm opened it. "Hurry," he said, fear in his eyes.

Easing on the air, Bent drove down the ramp laid over the steps. Hamm waved and made a run for it, leaving the cellar door open. A bucket of cold water waited, and Kira wasted no time in climbing from the car, no matter how much her body complained. Putting weight on her leg was the worst but she endured. Dunking her head in the water, she worked to remove the water-based dyes. She would have used soap to scrub away the remaining color, but there was no time. Wrapping herself in a plain, brown cloak, she limped toward the open door, looking back to Bent with worry.

"Go," he said. "I'll slip out the back and make a swim for it. This had better all be worth it. If you've put us through all this for nothing, well . . ." He just shrugged and slipped into the darkness.

Pain made the climb difficult, and she struggled to close the door. Hearing horses coming, she left it slightly ajar. Immediately crossing the street, she endured the pain, walking with a forced gait, not letting her limp show. Her hair still wet, she pulled it back, just before horses turned the corner. Amber light shone from within her cloak, and she quickly concealed it.

With her head down, the guard passed her by. Stepping faster, she turned toward the waterline. From a doorway across the street, a man in a fine-quality black suit watched. The fit spoke of tailoring, something most in these parts could scarcely afford. Kira pretended not to see but could not resist a glance as she passed. His eyes met hers, and she quickly looked away but not before noticing the glint of golden cufflinks.

Walking faster, she hoped this would all be worth it. Still feeling the man's gaze on her back, she hastened toward the next intersection. Had she looked back, she would have seen him smile. Instead she followed that little voice in the back of her mind, the one that told her everything would be fine; all she had to do was believe.

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