“It wasn’t there when we left the Stormdancers. Someone must have planted it in my bag.” I put my arms out to the side. “Go ahead. Scan my mind.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Zitora reported to the Captain.

“No offense, Master Cowan, but you’re biased. She’s your student and traveling companion. You’re young—”

“Captain.” She growled with frustration. Her hands bunched into fists; her body poised to punch the man. But she paused, and made a visible effort to relax. Her arms dropped down and she laced her fingers together. “Fine. Summon another magician. One who can sense the truth.”

“Now you’re thinking. I’ll send a message. The magician should be here in two days.”

“Two days!” My cry echoed in the stone cell.

“This isn’t the Citadel. Thunder Valley is a small town. We only have a healer. And we’re lucky to have him.” The Captain peered at me with suspicion. “I believe you met him. He cleaned up your sword cuts.”

“I already explained about the man who attacked Opal,” Zitora said.

“The magician you didn’t warn us about? Who escaped from our prison? You’re saying he stayed in the area, risking capture just so he could attack Opal?”

“And Stormdancer Kade,” I said.

“So you say.”

Zitora leveled a dangerous stare at the Captain. “Are you calling me a liar?”

The Captain refused to back down. “No. But magic is involved with this situation, which makes all memories, information and people suspect.”

He was either brave, intelligent or ignorant of the amount of power Zitora could wield with ease. Probably a combination of all three. But at least he agreed to let us have a private conversation, moving away from us.

“I’m sorry, Opal. I have to go through the channels and make nice with the local authorities. They have hard evidence against you—I know.” She held up a hand, stopping my denial. “The Captain’s right, there is magic in play, and I intend to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding.”

“Could one of the other Masters help you with your investigation?”

Zitora smiled ruefully. “I contacted Irys. She told me—with malicious glee I’m sure—that I’m to resolve this situation on my own. Seems she thinks this a good opportunity for me to practice my diplomacy.”

I glanced around the darkening cell. Even though I was upset and disappointed, I tried to make the best of it. I didn’t have a choice, but no sense upsetting Zitora. “I have complete confidence in you. And two days is nothing.”

My bravado lasted until she left. I huddled on my cot, wrapped in my cloak, hoping a guard would light the lanterns in the corridor.

Zitora had brought me a few comfort items from my saddlebags. I hadn’t even noticed the bundle when she first arrived. Either that or I had noticed, but denied its implication.

Two days. Two days wasn’t so bad. The kilns reached the perfect temperature in two days. My brother would finally apologize to me two days after hurting my feelings. Mother roasted her succulent pork for two days before she would let us eat the juicy meat. Two days was…two days of being a suspected criminal, locked in a drafty cell.

I fell asleep on the cot, waking only to the sound of a metal tray being slid under the door. Dinner. I gnawed on the stale bread, drank the tepid water and ate all of the thick soup.

The lanterns had been lit. Shadows, thin and black, vibrated on the stone wall opposite my cot. Shutters outside my window had been closed and bolted. With nothing else to do, I watched the flames dance inside the glass lanterns until the guard extinguished them, leaving me in darkness. I tried to sleep, hoping to spend as much time as possible in the oblivion of my dreams.

A click of a bolt and a gush of cold air woke me. Crouched next to my window was a figure. The person gestured. I stood on the bed for a better look.

Zitora sawed through one of the bars with a thin metal thread. The cord glittered in the pale moonlight. I figured she was a dream, until the unmistakable high-pitched rubbing sound of the diamond string reached me. With a pop, Zitora moved to the bottom of the bar.

“Watch for guards,” she said.

I hopped to the floor and positioned myself near the cell’s door, keeping alert for any signs. After enduring the nerve-racking, blood-numbing slide of the diamond string for an hour, I marveled that the guards, let alone the entire town hadn’t come over to investigate.

“Let’s go,” Zitora said.

“But—”

She shushed me. “Later. Pass me your cloak.”

I did as ordered.

“Give me your hand.”

Surprisingly strong, Zitora helped me through the narrow opening. Once I stood in the alley, she handed me my cloak and a rucksack. “Put these on and follow me.” She slung a bag over her shoulder.

I tied the garment under my chin, glad of the warmth. The heavy pack dragged on my shoulders, and liquid sloshed inside. Probably water skins, but I wondered where our original packs were. “I thought you were playing nice with the locals.”

“Changed my mind.”

We ghosted through the sleeping town, staying in the shadows as much as possible. The half-moon’s position in the sky indicated four hours remained until dawn. I asked Zitora about the horses, when we headed out of town.

“Too hard to hide,” she said.

I puzzled over her reply. With her magic, surely hiding two horses wouldn’t be any trouble.