As the assembled fanatics stormed our hideout and cries of “come and be purified abominations!” and “only in death will your sins be absolved!” floated up to us through the floorboards Ara and Skull looked at me and gently took hold of my shoulders... and maybe pulled me out of the burrow I had made on the side of our roof.

  “Bright it’s going to be ok Blood’s finding us a way out.”

  “We’ll be fine Bright, they don't know we’re here and they can't get up to us anyway.”

  “But there in the street!” I nearly cried. “They’re all around us! By Koth if they find us...”

  “Luckily that won’t happen.” Said familiar silk soft voice, turning around I saw Blood standing next to the hole in the shingle with Hermosa balanced on her shoulder, the huge albino raven nodded at me.

  “I’ve had the ravens leave their aviary they’re scouting for us. It seems the pyre-guards have formed a cordon around the whole of Beggars Row probably so the Inquisitor can get the kill credit... prick.”

  I actually giggled at that, a nervous stress filled giggle, but a giggle nonetheless.

  Ara smiled at me then looked pointedly at Blood, “Bright’s been doing well since you left but she might need a little best friend time ok?”

  Blood bounced slightly at that. “Oh Yay!” She exclaimed happily and leaping forwards she hugged my arm to her chest. Again the second she touched me it was like the whole world just slid back into focus, all the fear and hate and the awful memories of that bloody night just blew away like they had never been.

  As Ara walked over to Hermosa I turned to Blood, “thank you,” I whispered into her ear but Blood just shook her head at me, “always,” was all she said, “always”.

  After a few more seconds during which nothing much happened and I certainly didn't nearly start crying, Ara joined our huddle, “well Hermosa is an amazingly good artist for a raven,” she said perfunctorily. “As far as I can tell the ring around the district isn’t complete yet; there’s still some space for us to slip through.” Below us I heard another door be kicked open as booted feet thundered on bare floorboards followed by more religious mania and disappointment.

  For a second I felt like everything was going to be alright. Which was of course when Koth decided to kick me in the ribs.

  “Our tunnel!” we spun to see Skull staring into her mirror with a distinctly alarmed air. “Our tunnel, oh slet, they found it!”

  “What... but they're still searching the house?” For a moment my surprise overcame my fear.

  Skull cursed again. “It was a diversion! Most of the guards stormed the house whilst the Inquisitor went after our tunnel... he's nearly at our hideout. How in the Abyss did he even find it?”

  Skull spun the mirror and to my horror I saw the Inquisitor and his four masked initiates (followed by a few of the pyre-guard who looked distinctly worse for wear) stood in the short wooden corridor at the end of our formerly hidden entrance tunnel.

  It looks like our traps, whilst effective, hadn't been effective enough... but as a fire of panic grew in my chest I realised something was wrong with the image before me. After a moment I felt something in my head lurch and I saw it.

  “Where's the door?” The other two looked down at the mirror in puzzlement then at me obviously wondering if I had finally snapped.

  “Well it’s right there...” Blood's finger bounced off the glass then she turned to me. “It... it should be in front of them right?”

  We all took turns staring into the mirror at the blank wall then as one we looked at Skull who tilted her head in mirth at us.

  “I threw a reflection over it! I replaced the image of our door with a reflection of the wall at the end of the corridor.”

  “You set a magic trap?” I asked, astonished and intrigued in equal measure but she shook her head quickly. “No it’s just an illusion but it should keep them busy whilst we... wait... what is he doing?”

  On the silver surface before us we could see Nightsbane nodding with a look of satisfaction at the corridor before he turned to the initiates dogging his heel. The pyre-guard for their part where half crumbled against a wall looking very sorry for themselves, wearing ticksteel powered mail they may have been but Blood had a vicious imagination and real gift with traps.

  “Now then,” he said in his rather pleasing baritone. “Who can tell me what is wrong here?”

  Yes I did tell you earlier that Skulls' mirrors can't pick up sound and yes we were at the time just forced to watch a man pantomime in silence at his equally silent companions however... well I won’t spoil things but let’s just say that there were friendly ears nearby shall we?

  The initiates look around the corridor for a moment. Some closely inspected the walls and floor one lifted up a drape and peered behind it as another dug into the draws of a cabinet.

  “I'm not sure sir,” said one of the boys shrugging. “It’s a dead end corridor, maybe the architect never finished the house?”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “The wall.”

  The group turned to the tall pale initiate who sketched a bow to Nightsbane. “Sir... the wall at the end of this corridor is identical to the one near the stairwell down to the scrapes and scratches on the mortar. That doesn't ever happen.”

  “Precisely,” said Nightsbane, sounding pleased. “Which implies...?”

  “That the blasphemies we are chasing have used dastardly magic to hide?!”exclaimed the male initiate obviously hoping to score some points back. “So we need to smash the wall down!”

  Nightsbane sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth, “no no no.... we are the Inquisition we have more sophisticated and effective methods than simple brute force. Besides as you would know if you studied your primer on our arch-enemy even if the physical wall was destroyed chances are that the illusion would stay where it was, it is a highly potent one after all.”

  “How can you tell that sir?” Asked the other boy deferentially.

  “Because Swain the mage who cast it is not here, the weak ones need their casters to stay near them to keep them existing, only the strongest ones can stay intact without a constant supply of aether from a mage.”

  “And if presented with a source less illusion that it shall be classified as belonging to the ninth type and caution shall be taken for it may well be able to fool the hand and the ear of the faithful as well as the eye.” The tall pale girl said, the archaic language sounded like a quote.

  “Precisely Valentine...and what does the primer suggest as a course of action when encountering an illusion of the ninth type?”

  The tall girl now identified as Valentine scratched the back of her head. Her mask hid her facial expressions but I felt that she was panicking slightly. “Muster the holiness within ye and summon up the sigil of the fifth tier?”

  Nightsbane nodded and smiled. “Ah but that is for full Inquisitors who have mastered the fifth tier of nullification. What does it suggest for those who cannot?”

  Valentine looked shifty for a second, her eyes darting then she clicked her fingers. “Page 749, just below the coffee stain, if the powers of the fifth come for you not then present one bottle of moonlight and remove the cap and let the cleansing light of the sisters of the sun wipe away the imperfection of magic.”

  “Excellent Valentine just what I would expect from you,” commended Nightsbane. “Even with the page number! Very impressive.” As he turned to the door again the two boys began to pantomime disgust towards Valentine until she threw a clod of loose wall plaster at them. Throughout all this I noticed the short girl hadn't moved a muscle, just stared at the corridor with dimly glinting hawk-like eyes.

  As we watched them, crowding around our mirror shard, Nightsbane reached into his cloak and pulled out... something. It looked rather like a long sheet silver tube with a shard of glowing white glass set into its side and a paper cork in one end. He gently lifted the phylum (as I was later informed it was called) into the air and with an almost reverential movement he uncorked it, instantly the tube spat a continuous stream of pure white light out of the new aperture. The light was soft and pale and it was unmistakably, at least for someone who spent so much time running the nighttime rooftops, moonlight.

  Even as we watched fascinated he swung the tube of moonlight towards the fake wall and as the light hit it the real door reappeared. You might hope it would fade away with a spray of twinkly stars or do something equally impressive but instead where the light fell the door was just there again, visible without any ceremony at all. Unfortunately for us Nightsbane had, by luck or judgment, revealed the door handle with his first burst of moonlight. The Inquisitor reached forwards slowly and seizing the handle muttered a few soft barbaric syllables[139] that made my stomach writhe and twist as the illusion... shattered, like a dropped mirror. All that was left was the door, now visible in its entirety. With a satisfied pursing of his lips Nightsbane re-corked his vial of moonlight and pointed down at the lock.

  “Now this is interesting if I'm any judge. This is the stolen ticksteel lock of the Countess Du-Chelot. To think that the blasphemies have used it to protect themselves... they really have no shame,” he looked around at the pyre-guards and gestured one forwards. “Ambrose be a good man and pick this will you?”

  All that panic I’ve been telling you about? Well it was nothing compared to this. I swore, shivered and was nearly sick all over myself as the terror seized hold of my bones with icy claws.

  “Let’s go go gog og gogo gogog!” I babbled, the syllables merging until they were no longer words but a long series of O and G sounds lisping together.

  Blood grabbed me and dragged me over to the lip of the roof, “this way,” she said soothingly, “this way Hermiosa says there aren’t any guards this way yet.” As Blood murmured to me almost maternally, Ara strode past us and hurled a dagger across the canal, its handle wound around with rope. There was a distant ping as the blade struck and stuck into the opposite rooftop then with a wave and a muted groan of effort Ara caused the rope to snap taut like a steel bar.

  As I looked at the rope I felt my stomach turning. I knew Ara took her magic seriously and had learned how to use it well and subtly over the eons, I knew I could trust her rope bridges but I didn't really trust my trembling legs. Inquisitors used to make me panic really really badly, luckily I got over it but back then I was totally riddled with photoboardia[140].

  Ara looked at me and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s ok to take your time, we're all fine.” As she said that she reached up and grabbed one of the ropes from her bandolier and began to wind it around her face.

  “Yeah they aren’t even in the hideout yet,” said Blood lightly. “We’ve got time to just take a deep breath.”

  I did as she suggested and found my gaze lingering on my friends; they have always been so kind to me even when we were in the most terrible situations. It’s enough to bring a girl to tears, “thank you three... I... wait...” I spun around and looked behind me. “Skull?”

  The older girl was trailing along behind us by several metres. She seemed to be muttering under her breath she still stared into the mirror shard.

  “How did they learn... must have been stolen during the purge... if only...” I tried to decipher the few words I heard drifting across the rooftop but gave up after a moment. I was scared, tired, cold and had completely run out of patience. I ran over to Skull and elbowed her in the ribs as hard as I could.

  “Skull!”

  She started and turned to look at me then shook her head, “right right I'm coming!” Quickly marrying action to words she scurried over to join us. For a second the four of us paused and jostled at the foot of the rope bridge trying to all get on at once. Then this queuing problem was neatly resolved by a sudden deafening crash almost like someone kicking an annoyingly unpickable locked door in.

  I jumped visibly as the sound of the impact echoed around the district, “we need to seal that!” I said turning to the others and pointing at the gaping hole in our rooftop. Blood looked at me then back at our roof escape tunnel and nodded to herself.

  “Oh I’ve got this.” she whispered in a voice as sweet as sin and as soft as silk. Long experience with that tone of voice led me to turn my head away quickly as the rooftop was suddenly lit up by a new red sun.

  [139] Part of the mantra of purification is one of the methods the Inquisition uses to nullify magic.

  [140] Phobia. PHOBIA. I really wish she wouldn't mangle ancient Prasian like that. We used to have an empire thanks to that language for Koth sake... well... in part because of that language. I am bound to admit that our incredibly high rate of magical births and our vast navy probably didn't hurt matters.