Mitsy’s boys? Amaranthe remembered the child who had followed her through Ink Alley. So, he had not been an enforcer informant but one of Mitsy’s. And the dish boy in the Onyx Lodge-had he been one of hers too?
“I’m trying to help the emperor.” Amaranthe spread her arms in a conciliatory gesture. “I don’t have anything to do with Hollowcrest or that creature.”
“If you’re working with the emperor, you’re a murdering govie.”
“I haven’t murdered…” Amaranthe could not get out the “anyone.” Thoughts of Wholt and his dead men reared in her mind. She may not have personally killed the enforcers, but that did not make her any less responsible.
Mitsy sneered. She wanted Amaranthe to argue, wanted a fight.
Amaranthe eyed the bouncers and the weapons trained on her. She needed to try something else if she and Books were going to get out of here alive.
“I’m sorry,” Amaranthe said, meeting the other woman’s eyes.
Surprise stole the sneer from Mitsy’s face.
“I met Ragos when I came to see you last time,” Amaranthe said. “It must have been devastating to lose him.”
“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” Mitsy said. “I should have been able to…”
“I know. When I lost my father, I was powerless to save him. It’s frustrating. You feel you have to hurt somebody. But if you can’t hurt the ones who were actually responsible, what’s the point? It’s not your fault, Mitsy. It’s not mine either. I don’t work for Hollowcrest. I want to put an end to that man’s machinations. If we work together, we’ll be strong enough to do it, to keep more of your people from being killed.”
For a moment, Mitsy was nodding and listening, but then her eyes narrowed and she snorted.
“You almost had me, Amaranthe, but I remember you from school. You could always win over the teachers with that tongue, but not me.”
“Mitsy-”
“Silence!”
Even the bouncers jumped.
“No more speaking for you, my dear,” Mitsy said. “It’s my turn to leave mutilated bodies in the streets.” She waved to the bouncers.
Two of the brawny men headed for Amaranthe, two for Books. The rest kept their weapons trained. There was no chance of escape.
“Wait,” Books said, shying away from the approaching men. “You need to listen to her. She’s-”
The bouncers grabbed him beneath the armpits, lifting him from his feet, despite his height. Books lost his composure. He kicked and thrashed, trying to claw and bite his captors.
Two men grabbed Amaranthe in the same manner and dragged her down the steps between the rows of benches and to the railing. Below, a corridor ran parallel to the outside wall. Twenty feet down, the Maze’s brick floor promised a hard landing.
“Mitsy, this won’t change anything.” Amaranthe doubted her words would sway anyone at this point, but she had to try.
“It’s not about change, my dear. It’s about avenging the family.” Mitsy nodded to her men. “Throw them in.”
“Release me!” Books yelled.
The bouncers hoisted him up first. He grabbed the rail on his way over, so he hung over the side, legs dangling into the pit.
When Amaranthe realized her destination inevitable, she slithered over on her own, the better to take the fall without hurting herself. She landed with a roll. The floor pounded the breath from her body, but no excruciating stabs of pain announced broken bones.
The bouncers laughed as they peeled back Books’s fingers. When he would not let go, one man lifted his leg, boot aimed at the tenacious digits.
“Let go!” Amaranthe called.
Whether out of obedience or because he could not hold himself up any longer, Books released the rail. He dropped, hitting first with his heels and collapsing onto his back. He cried out. Face contorted with pain, he curled onto his side and made no move to rise.
Amaranthe knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Did you break anything?”
He panted, tears filming his eyes, and did not answer. Amaranthe glared up at Mitsy, who stood at the railing with one of her bouncers.
“Turn on the Maze and set the clacker to kill,” Mitsy said. “Then you men go outside and make sure Sicarius isn’t hiding somewhere. There’ll be no rescue attempts.”
As the bouncers withdrew from the rail, Books clambered to his feet. He gritted his teeth against the pain from whatever injuries he had received.
“Mitsy,” Amaranthe said, “you’re making a mistake.”
“It won’t be my first.”
“I can help you!”
“Save your words for the clacker. A machine would be more likely to listen.” Mitsy moved out of view.
“Fiends.” Books turned one way, glanced down the corridor, then spun the other way and did the same. “She’ll have all the exits secured. A clacker. The army uses those on the front lines, doesn’t it? They’re automated to fillet people like fish. We’re doomed.”
“Books,” Amaranthe said.
A low rumble pulsed through the earth. Next came a cacophonous screech. The walls started their peregrinations, leaving slots, grinding along tracks, and clicking into new slots. In the distance, a clang sounded-a cage door going up.
Books’s head spun toward the noise, face stricken. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s out. There’s no hope. We’re dead.”
“Books.” Amaranthe grabbed his arm. “We’re going to escape.”
His gaze latched onto her. “How?”
How indeed. As Books had said, Mitsy would not have left a gate unlocked. Amaranthe craned her neck back. The only way out was up.
She touched the cold, copper-plated wall. No handholds or crevices marred the surface. The exterior walls were too high to reach even if she stood on Books’s shoulders. The interior maze walls were a few feet lower. Maybe they could reach the top of them.
“Clackers run on treads; they’re not built for jumping,” Amaranthe said, “and these walls are too smooth for them to climb.”
“Yes, we share that problem.”
“Get on my shoulders.”
Amaranthe placed her palms against an inner wall and leaned toward it, feet planted. She bent her legs, so he could use her thigh as a step.
“You should go first,” Books said.
“I want you on top.”
“I don’t think I can-”
“Books, go!”
He approached her uncertainly. “You’re too small. I could hurt you. This is a bad idea.”
A clank echoed through the Maze. The clacker was near, no more than a couple corridors away.
“Good idea,” Books muttered. “This is a good idea.”
He stepped on her thigh, put a hand on her head, and pushed himself up. Amaranthe grunted as he clambered onto her shoulders. His boots ground into her muscles like a pestle working the bottom of a mortar. Once he was standing, she pushed her heels into the ground and, back rigid, inched up.
Heat rushed to her face, and her legs trembled. Sweat sprang from her skin.
“I can almost reach it,” he whispered.
A piece of wall detached to Amaranthe’s left. It pulled away from the main section and followed the tracks in the floor, eventually disappearing around a corner. Through the vacant orifice came an ominous rumble and the soft clacking of metal on metal.
Amaranthe pushed up to the balls of her feet.
“I think I can…” Books jumped off Amaranthe’s shoulders.
The force drove her to her knees, but Books grabbed the top of the wall first. Legs scrabbling against the smooth surface, he inched himself higher until he hooked his armpits over the edge. He swung his leg up and straddled the wall. Once he found his balance, he flattened onto his stomach and reached down to her.
“Hurry,” he whispered. “It just turned into the corridor over here. It seems to be finding us awfully quickly for some machine running on a random loop. “
A flaw in her plan presented itself. Books’s hand hung too far above to reach. Amaranthe tried to jump for it anyway-and missed by three feet.