Beatrix frowned. “I still don’t trust her.”
“Me either,” said Kiko.
“Join the club,” said Anadil.
Professor Dovey ignored them. “Now for the rest of the plan. We’ll wait for Anadil’s rats to return with news of the others. Then, when the time comes, we’ll send Sophie a message through that hole and establish a chain of communication. From there, we can plot our rescue,” she said, checking on the quarter-sized breach that Hester’s demon had managed to bash out of the wet, cracked stone. Rhian’s speech amplified louder through it—
“And let’s not forget my future queen!” he proclaimed.
The people sang back: “Sophie! Sophie! Sophie!”
“Can you see the stage yet, Nicola?” Professor Dovey pressured.
Nicola leaned forward, eye to the hole: “Almost. But it’s so far uphill and we’re on the wrong side of it.”
Dovey turned to Hester. “Keep your demon digging. We need a view of that stage, no matter how remote.”
“Why? You heard the girl,” Hester pestered, wincing vicariously as her demon punched at the hole with its injured claw. “What good is a pea-sized rear view—”
“One of Rhian’s pirate guards will likely check on us soon,” Dovey continued. “Hort, given your father was a pirate, I’m assuming you might know these boys?”
“No one I’d call a friend,” Hort punted, picking at his sock.
“Well, try to befriend them,” Dovey urged.
“I’m not befriending a bunch of thugs,” Hort shot back. “They’re mercenaries. They’re not real pirates.”
“And are you a real Professor of History? If you were, you’d know that even mercenary pirates joined the Pirate Parley in helping King Arthur fight the Green Knight,” Dovey rebutted. “Talk to these boys. Get as much information as you can.”
Hort hesitated. “What kind of information?”
“Any information,” the Dean pressed. “How they met Rhian or where Rhian really comes from or—”
Metal creaked and slammed in the distance.
The iron door.
Someone had entered the dungeons.
Bootsteps pounded on stone—
Two pirates in Camelot’s armor dragged a boy’s limp body past the cell, each gripping one of his outstretched arms. The boy resisted weakly, his eye blackened shut, his suit and shirt shredded, his bloodied body drained by whatever tortures they’d inflicted on him since they’d lashed him in chains onstage.
“Tedros?” Kiko croaked.
The prince raised his head, and seeing his friends, he swung towards them, gaping at the crew with his one open eye—
“Where’s Agatha!” he gasped. “Where’s my mother!”
The guards kicked his legs out from under him and yanked him down the corridor into pitch-dark shadows before dumping him into the cell at the very end.
But from Hester’s vantage point, it seemed that the cell at hall’s end had already been occupied, for as they flung Tedros into his cage, they let a prisoner out of it—three prisoners to be precise—who now slinked down the hall, unchained and free.
As these released captives moved out of the shadows, Hester, Anadil, and Dot pressed against the bars and came face-to-face with another coven of three. These haggard triplets glided past them in gray tunics with salt-and-pepper hair to their waists, rawboned limbs, and leathery, coppery skin; their necks and identical faces were long with high, simian foreheads; thin, ashy lips; and almond-shaped eyes. They smirked at Professor Dovey before they followed the pirates out of the dungeons, the door slamming shut behind them.
“Who were those women?” Hester asked, swiveling to Dovey.
“The Mistral Sisters,” said the Dean, grimly. “King Arthur’s advisors who ran Camelot into the ground. Arthur appointed the Mistrals when Guinevere deserted him. After Arthur died, they had free rein over Camelot until Tedros came of age and put them in jail. Whatever reason Rhian has for freeing them, it can’t be good news.” She called down the hall. “Tedros, can you hear me!”
The echoes of Rhian’s speech drowned out whatever response came back, if one came back at all.
“He’s hurt,” Dovey told the quest team. “We can’t just leave him there. We need to help him!”
“How?” said Beatrix anxiously. “Anadil’s rats are gone and we’re trapped here. His cell is way at the other end of the—”
But now they heard the door to the dungeons open once more.
Soft footsteps padded down the staircase. A shadow elongated on the wall, then across their cell bars.
Into the rusty torchlight came a green-masked figure. His skintight suit of black eels hung in slashed ribbons, exposing his young, pale torso spattered with blood.
The entire crew flattened against the walls. So did Professor Dovey.
“But y-y-you’re . . . dead!” Hort cried.
“We saw your body!” said Dot.
“Rhian killed you!” said Kiko.
The Snake’s ice-blue eyes glared through his mask.
From behind his back, he produced one of Anadil’s rats, the rodent writhing in his grip.
The Snake raised a finger and the scaly black scim covering his fingertip turned knife-sharp. The rat let out a terrible squeak—
“No!” Anadil screamed.
The Snake stabbed the rat in the heart and dropped it to the floor.
“My guards are searching for the two you sent to find Merlin and Agatha,” he said in a crisp, deep voice as he walked away. “Next one I find, I’ll kill one of you too.”
He didn’t look back. The iron door thudded behind him.
Anadil scrambled forward, reaching through the cell bars and scraping her rat into her hands . . . but it was too late.
She sobbed, clutching it against her chest as she curled into a corner.
Hort, Nicola, and Dot tried to comfort her, but she was crying so hard she started to shiver.
Only when Hester touched her did Anadil’s wails slowly soften.
“She was so scared,” Anadil sniffled, shearing off a patch of her dress and wrapping her rat’s body in it. “She looked right at me, knowing she was going to die.”
“She was a faithful henchman to the end,” Hester soothed.
Anadil buried her head in her friend’s shoulder.
“How did the Snake know the other rats were searching for Merlin and Agatha?” Hort blurted as if there was no more time to mourn.
“Forget that,” said Nicola. “How is the Snake alive?”
Hester’s stomach plunged.
“That