Petra Vane's Arc

Chapter 8 of 10

The man's steps came closer down the stone. Petra pressed her back to the wall. Beside her stood Lior, the mute girl from the prison who had guided her hand on every throw over the wall. Lior's breath came fast and loud. At her feet, the three-legged hound shifted its crutch leg, ready to bark at the stranger it smelled in the dark. One sound now would end everything. The man would find the door. He would find her table, her blades, and every fugitive who still needed them. Petra found Lior's shoulder in the black. She turned the girl toward her and pressed one finger to her own lips. Then she took Lior's small hand and laid it flat over the hound's muzzle, holding the dog's mouth closed under both their palms. "Quiet," Petra breathed, softer than the dripping water. "Not a sound. Trust me." Lior went still. She trusted Petra's hands more than her own fear. But the girl's fear had a weight of its own. The steady drip from the ceiling stopped. The water on the floor stopped moving. Even Petra's pocket watch fell silent against her chest. The whole room held its breath with the child. The man's boots scraped just outside the hidden door. He struck a match. Light leaked through the seam. Petra pinned the hound tighter. The dog trembled but made no sound. Lior's eyes were shut. Petra could hear only the man now, and her own blood. "Someone in there?" he called. His voice was rough, the voice of a man from the old block who wanted a reward. He waited. He listened for a whimper, a step, a breath. He got nothing. The room gave him a wall of silence, thick as the stone itself. Petra slid her sharp blade from her apron. She measured the seam of light where his shadow crossed. If he pushed the door, she would be ready. Her hand did not shake. The man cursed. His match died. "Just a stray hole," he muttered. His boots turned. The steps went back the way they came, slow at first, then quicker, until the drip of water returned and the dark swallowed the sound of him. Petra stayed frozen a long time. Then she let out her breath and lifted her hand from the hound's muzzle. Lior opened her eyes. The water began to move again on the floor. "You did it," Petra whispered. She pulled the girl against her. The dog licked her wrist. But Petra's relief was thin. The man had gone, yet he had marked the tunnel in his mind. He would come back, and next time not alone. She wiped her blade on her apron and looked at the dark mouth of the passage. The room was no longer safe. She had silenced them tonight. Tomorrow she would need a new door.