A siren began to wail.

“He’s on to you,” Cleon said from the floor.

John kicked Cleon in the side, doubling over as he issued the blow. “This way, Pigeon,” John grunted, running back the way he had come.

Pigeon followed as fast as he could. A hand to his side, John slowed his pace, allowing Pigeon to keep up.

“Hurry, Pigeon,” John said. “We’re both in danger.”

“Where have you been?” Pigeon exclaimed.

“Here,” John said. “Faster, Pigeon.”

“This is my fastest.”

Slowing, John scooped Pigeon up and heaved him over his shoulder. Then he sprinted down the hall, breathing hard, his footfalls echoing.

They turned a corner. Pigeon could hear angry shouts from behind. There were fewer doors in this hall, longer stretches of blank cement walls. John ran to an iron door, shoved it open, and staggered inside.

An old man closed the door. He was short, with bushy sideburns and a bald spot atop his head. It was Mozag.

John dumped Pigeon onto his feet, then slouched against the wall. Blood continued to drain from his nose, coming fast from one nostril and slow from the other.

“You cut it close,” Mozag said. “I can feel it in the air. He’s already working on your simulacrum.”

“Close suffices,” John said.

“What’s going on?” Pigeon asked.

“Welcome to the resistance,” Mozag said with a smile.

“The resistance?” Pigeon asked.

Mozag motioned at the surrounding apartment, which was much larger and better furnished than Pigeon’s cell. “This is our special corner of Jonas White’s prison. I’ve claimed it as my own.”

Groaning, John pushed off the wall and walked out of the room. He returned with a washcloth held to his face. “Mozag made this an impromptu lair,” John said with admiration. “A sanctum, actually. Few mages could have pulled it off. I don’t think Jonas realized that such a feat was possible. No outside magic can touch us here. And nobody has managed to bother us. They learned quickly not to go up against a wizard like Mozag in his lair.”

“They forgot about us,” Mozag said. “Well, not completely. We haven’t been aggressive lately. They stopped being careful—enough for John to make a foray and recover you.”

“How did you know I was here?” Pigeon asked.

Mozag raised his eyebrows. “Wasn’t easy. Once I cut this room off from outside magic, I couldn’t reach out from here in most of the standard ways. Isolation was the price of security. But we have an ally here, an experienced magician named Tallah. She can blend incongruous magic like nobody else. She’s a prisoner as well. Jonas let her establish her quarters as a provisional lair because he needs her magical expertise, but she has no sanctum.”

“I haven’t met her,” Pigeon said.

“No,” Mozag agreed. “One of her hobbies is creating tiny spies to prowl these halls. They look like mosquitoes or gnats. Delicate work. The barriers of my sanctum prevent her from reaching out to me directly, so she sends her miniscule spies to my door. They can’t enter on their own, but we can bring them in ourselves. Crossing the barrier damages them, but once we have them inside, I’m able to revive them enough to experience what they’ve seen.”

“Plus, the guy who brings our food is terrified of Mozag,” John explained. “You have to understand, Mozag is both famous and infamous in the magical community. Nobody is eager to cross him. Our food guy delivers messages for us now and then to Tallah. Once we realized that you were here, we asked Tallah to monitor your specific door. She did, and a gnat made it here just in time for me to attempt a rescue.”

“So when you came after me,” Pigeon realized, “you’d left the safety of the sanctum behind.”

“Temporarily, yes,” John said. “Jonas no longer leaves guards on our door. We’ve found ways to harass them.”

“We can open the door and throw things at them,” Mozag chuckled.

“But Jonas monitors this hall, of course,” John continued. “He just does it magically. He doesn’t get around very fast. I was betting that I could snatch you and make it back here before Jonas arrived at my simulacrum.”

“A very risky wager,” Mozag mentioned. “If by chance Jonas had been close to John’s simulacrum at the time, the rescue would have ended differently. After the trouble we’ve caused, given the chance, Jonas would probably just skip the lesser punishments and kill him.”

“He could do that?” Pigeon asked in a small voice.

“Jonas White is a very gifted Simulcrist,” Mozag said. “With simulacra of the quality that he possesses, not only could he kill us, he could probably reach out through us and harm the people we most love.”

“Wow,” Pigeon said. “Is there any way you could take him on?”

Mozag shook his head. “Not directly. Not here in his lair. Not with him in possession of our simulacra. That’s why our strategy has been almost entirely defensive.”

“Mozag can’t leave this apartment or the sanctum would collapse,” John said. “There is no permanence to it. This sanctum was created as an emergency measure without the necessary time, materials, or support. It is maintained more by his willpower than anything.”

“Indirectly we might be able to serve a purpose,” Mozag said. “Simulcry of the sort Jonas is performing with his wax figures requires a massive amount of magical power. Somewhere in his lair he is hiding a power source. If we could locate his Source, we would know how to break his hold on us.”

“What about those gnats and mosquitoes?” Pigeon asked. “The little spies?”

“A good thought,” Mozag said. “Tallah has tried. We’re fairly certain Jonas keeps his Source in his sanctum. It’s also where he keeps his wax figures. His waxworks factory is located here on this level, but no magic can penetrate it. To investigate, we would have to physically go there.”

“Can we?” Pigeon wondered.

“In theory,” Mozag said. “But the moment we set foot beyond this sanctum, we become vulnerable. The waxworks creation area is sealed by a stout door and protected by a monstrosity. It will not be an easy place to spy.”

Pigeon sighed. “So for now there’s not much we can do. We’re trapped.”

“For the present, yes,” John agreed. He laid a large hand on Pigeon’s shoulder. “Come sit down.”