The researchers shared the information with others, but they had also been careful in protecting all they had learned. One of Tara’s comments tugged. Something about a room known only to the healers. A place sheltered from the elements and secured. A room not located in the building of learning.

I walked over to the smallest structure in the compound, but stopped. That would be too obvious. It would be an unremarkable building sized to match others around it.

Kerrick followed me. “What are you looking for?”

I explained about the hidden room. “It probably didn’t survive.”

He considered. “If it is underground and protected by stone, it might still be here.” Instead of focusing on the buildings, he scanned the forest around us.

I wondered why until I realized the forest had broken through the edges of the compound. Kerrick pressed a palm to the ground. If the roots had grown in far enough, he might be able to sense an oddness.

Kerrick stood and headed east of the main buildings. I trailed behind him. He stopped at a building that met my criteria—basically unremarkable.

“An underground room?” I asked.

“Maybe. There’s something underneath this building.”

We called the guys over. Everyone helped to clear the rubble. Belen’s strength continued to amaze me as he hefted large pieces of the broken stone wall with ease. As we worked, a sense of purpose formed. And for the first time in days, I wasn’t brooding over Flea’s death. After a while, I noticed the others making a few comments. Quain teased Loren for his girlie arms. Belen growled good-naturedly at Kerrick to stop supervising and to get back to work. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was a start.

It took us a day to unearth the top half of a potential doorway. As we cleared the debris, dark gray clouds crept over the ice-blue sky. Quain frowned at the approaching front and studied the clouds. He sniffed the air, claiming a snowstorm was on its way.

“How soon?” Kerrick asked him.

Quain gauged the wind by scattering dead leaves. “Half a day at most.”

“How bad?”

He pulled a strange glass vial that resembled a skinny teapot filled with a silver liquid. Tapping on the glass, he whistled. “A midwinter howler.”

Kerrick cursed.

“You shouldn’t complain,” Quain said. “It’s been unusually dry. Otherwise, we’d have been hiking though two-foot drifts the past few weeks.”

Sensing Kerrick would stop our efforts, I said, “Perhaps that door leads underground and we can shelter in there.”

“What happens if we can’t?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Then we wasted all that time and will be caught out in a blizzard.” He scanned the darkening sky, then the forest. “You can keep working for now. I’ll scout out the area, see if there’s a cave nearby.”

Not another cave! But I stifled a groan. In this situation, it would be ideal. After Kerrick left, we exposed the door. It had been made of iron and was locked. Belen pulled out a set of lock picks with a sly grin. He worked on the lock.

After about twenty minutes, he sat back on his heels and gave up. “It’s one of those complicated ones with double pins to make it all but impossible to pick.”

“Could Kerrick open it?” I asked.

Belen huffed. “What makes you think he would be better than me?”

“Uh, more practice?”

“He’s certainly gotten into more trouble than me. That’s for certain.”

“Really? Jael said Kerrick was constantly getting you out of trouble.”

“Don’t you believe her, Avry. Everything she says is a lie. In fact, almost all the skirmishes and problems we had in school were because of her. With her beauty and intelligence, she played us all like she was conducting Queen Jenna’s ninety-six-piece orchestra. And it took us many years to figure it out.”

“But she kept Kerrick from killing Ryne. How?”

“That’s not my story to tell.” Belen lumbered to his feet. “And even Kerrick couldn’t open this door. The blasted lock is also rusted tight.”

Disappointment stabbed. Rust had destroyed… The word triggered a memory. When the guys had rescued me, the bars to the window appeared to have rusted away, but all the other ones had been fine.

“What did you use on those bars?” I asked Loren.

“What bars?”

I explained.

“Oh! Quain, do you still have some of that lightning juice?”

His eyes lit up. “Yes. It’s in my pack.” He strode over to where we had dumped our stuff. “Too bad I didn’t have it with me when we were rotting in Estrid’s jail for two weeks.” Rummaging in the pockets, he brought out a glass jar filled with a clear liquid. “We need some way to pour it into the lock.”

We all searched. Belen found a broken piece of pipe that worked. The lightning juice filled the keyhole. Metal sizzled and the smoke smelled like brackish water.

When the sound stopped, Quain told Belen to give it a try. He pressed his shoulder to the door and pushed. Nothing happened. Quain poured in more juice. Belen tried again. Nothing.

“Perhaps we should douse the hinges?” Loren asked.

Before Quain could move, I said, “Wait.” The door’s hinges were visible. “Belen, try pulling on the handle.”

He grasped the heavy latch. With a screech of metal, the door opened, revealing a staircase that descended into blackness. A musty odor with a hint of decay wafted from below followed by a faint rustling sound. Rats? Or the wind?