Perhaps he was nothing but a shadow himself.
When Tansy woke again, rousing Oren and me as well, she spent some time trying to get at the lock with the knife. When finally she threw the knife down with a clang, I jumped, heart racing.
She glanced at me apologetically and stooped to pick it up again, offering it back to me. I put it back in my pack. My brother’s paper bird looked at me from among my supplies, but I just shut the pack again, ignoring it.
“Well, seems like we’re going to be here for a while,” Tansy said, flashing me a weak smile. “And I’d rather not be trapped in here with a monster.”
She glanced at Oren, who straightened, eyes flicking from her to me. Before I could protest, Tansy held out a hand to me. “Well?” she said. “Take what you need.”
I stared at her outstretched hand, uncomprehending. “What I need?”
“To keep him human. I know it’s you, your magic, whatever makes you unique. I saw it back in the Iron Wood, and I saw it when you saved us in the alley.”
“He saved us,” I corrected her, still not taking her offered hand.
“Whoever saved who, he’s looking a bit grey around the ears, and I don’t want to wait and find out how long it takes him to turn back.”
Alarmed, I looked over at Oren. I knew it didn’t work like that—you were either shadow or not, no in between— but I couldn’t help but inspect him closely. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So,” Tansy interrupted my thoughts. “Let’s get this over with. Just—not so much this time?”
I swallowed. In the alley, I’d torn what magic she had in one instant, ruthless and quick. Taking a deep breath, I reached out for her hand. Her palm was sweating—she was nervous. But her hand was steady, and she didn’t pull away.
“Are you sure?” I asked, glancing at her.
She nodded. “It’s necessary. And I trust you.”
I wanted to scream at her that she shouldn’t—that I’d taken more than I needed in the alley, that I could’ve stripped her and left her for dead. That part of me wanted to do that now. But she was right. I didn’t have much left from what I’d taken that first time, and without it, Oren would revert back to his shadow self. And we’d both die.
I closed my eyes, looking with my second sight for the flicker of magic around her. It was weak, almost invisible despite the dampness of this underground cell. A meager meal of apples was not going to help her regenerate much. But even a little would do.
I let down my guard just a fraction, feeling a little warmth slide into my hand from hers. A few hours and I’d forgotten how good it felt. I opened the channel a little wider, taking a slow breath, basking in it. Tansy’s hand felt clammy in mine, but I ignored it, focusing on the magic, the life force. I’d never had the luxury of examining this connection, the intimacy of it, how I could trace it back through our joined hands and up her arm, through her veins and muscles, to her heart, which danced a steady beat through the web of magic inside her. I tugged at a strand of the web and felt Tansy give a strangled gurgle of pain.
I jerked my hand away, gasping, opening my eyes and willing the dark, cold cell to return and banish the lovely warmth of Tansy’s magic.
Dizzy with the aftereffects, my vision blurring and dancing, I tried to sit back up, to find Tansy amid the swirling shadows. She was on her back, breathing hard, but otherwise fine, watching me, massaging her hand and grimacing.
“You okay?” she asked.
A sound rather like a laugh escaped me as I tried to put myself back together. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I feel a bit like I’ve fallen out of a tree, but I’ll live.” Tansy started to struggle up onto her elbows, but Oren left his post by the cage wall and went to her side, offering her his hand. She stared at it for a few moments, gaze flicking from his outstretched hand to his face, and then gingerly let him help her up into a seated position.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
I heard Tansy swallow, audible in the muffled quiet of our prison. Her brows drew in, lips pressing together. “Yeah,” she replied. “Well, I wasn’t doing it for you.”
He let go of her hand and retreated again, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew Tansy enough to know that a week ago she wouldn’t have offered what she’d just offered. She wouldn’t have even accepted his hand to help her up.
The bands of tension around my heart eased a little, my mind clearing a fraction as though a fog was starting to thin. Maybe our situation wasn’t so hopeless after all. If I could get Tansy and Oren working together, trusting each other as they had each once trusted me, maybe we could get out of this mess.
I started to suggest that we make another pass at the lock but was interrupted by the outer door banging open without warning.
Two men entered, one shutting the door behind them while the other came forward, his hands full. The light was behind him, so it took me a moment to recognize the long, curved shape slung over his shoulder.
Tansy, however, recognized it right away. She sat bolt upright, her eyes on his shoulder. I could sense her tension as though it were my own.
“So we traced you back to where you’d been squatting.” The man’s lip curled a little, as though we’d been living in a rat-infested dump. “Living with the Empty Ones,” he said, and spat through the bars onto the stone floor.
With a start, I realized what he was holding—Tansy’s pack. And her bow and quiver, slung over his shoulder. I glanced at her, but she didn’t look at me, her wide eyes fixed on the man.
“We were planning on giving this back to you if Prometheus gave the okay,” he said, hefting the pack in one hand, squinting at us through the bars. He wasn’t very tall, no taller than Tansy, but he was a burly man, strong. “Which one of you does this belong to?”
I expected Tansy to leap at the opportunity to get her pack back, after her panic in the alley at having lost it. But she remained silent, lips pressed together, muscles tense. I stared at her, confused—and the man saw me looking.
“Ahh,” he said. “The rest of you, back against the wall. You—” and he crooked a finger at Tansy, “come here.”
Tansy got to her feet, jaw squared, breathing in and out through her nose. She crossed toward the door of the cage, standing just out of arm’s reach of the man with her pack.
“We expected the usual stuff, dried fruit, knife, feathers for arrows.” The man tossed a couple things out of the pack, whatever had been on top, and then dug his hand back into the bottom of the bag. “Imagine our surprise when we found it was full of these.”
His hand emerged, holding a small copper sphere. I’d never seen anything like it before, but I saw Tansy flinch. She certainly recognized it. Her eyes flicked toward me, hidden and guilty. Something tickled at the back of my mind, some instinct that blared alarm.
“Courier pigeons. Now, what reason would an innocent traveler like yourself have for carting a bag full of pigeons around? They’re Renewable messengers. And you’re not a Renewable, are you?”
Tansy didn’t answer, jaw squared.
The man thrust out his hand through the bars, bringing the sphere close to Tansy’s face. Her head jerked back, but she stood her ground. So near to her, the sphere unfolded, its surface rippling, extending wings and a faint glow that responded to the aura of magic surrounding her.
A machine.
The man laughed unpleasantly, withdrawing his hand. The sphere shut up tight again, and he dropped it back into the pack. “So what messages were you sending back to your leader, hmm? The location of our city? The number of people here? Our defenses?”