31. The mission briefing
31
THE MISSION brIEFING
“Neveranimas has quite possibly the most impenetrable vaults ever created,” Ris began. She had several maps spread out on a large wooden table in the study. The map she currently referenced was an architectural elevation drawing, highlighting a tunnel system, broken up by several rectangles.
They’d cleaned up the study as best as they could, but after two days it was still a bit of a mess. At least the school had provided them with better furniture.
“It’s set at the top of Mount Yagra,” she continued, “right above a magma chamber. And just in case someone has the magical means of surviving a swim through that, it’s also protected by layers of magical shields—all of which are powered by the volcano, so good luck hoping that the shields ever run dry.” She tapped on a long rectangle. “Entrance to the vault is through a secret entrance at the back of her ‘official’ vault, which links through this hallway here.”
Claw glanced down at a label. “Oh yes. The Hall of Death .” She stared at Ris. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Sounds homey,” Sicaryon said.
“No,” Naeron said, looking slightly wide-eyed.
“Don’t blame me. I didn’t name it, but unfortunately the name is accurate.” Ris tapped a fingernail on the location. “It’s heavily trapped—both mundane traps kept magically active and magical traps that cannot be disabled. A human would be unlikely to make it from one side of the hall to the other without setting off the security measures. For a dragon? Impossible. The only way to deactivate the traps is a pressure plate inside the vault itself, and even that only works for a few minutes before the entire system resets. I shouldn’t have to mention the traps are all extra lethal.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Jaemeh scrubbed a hand over his face.
Anahrod had almost forgotten that Peralon had promised to include the dragonrider. Jaemeh looked faint.
The dragonrider turned to Anahrod. “Okay, so how are we getting into this?”
Nope. She wasn’t playing this game. Anahrod was not in the mood. “Ris will explain it.”
Ris gazed longingly at the drinks table for a second. “This”—she gestured again to the Hall of Death—“is nothing but a meaningless diversion to trick thieves. The actual entrance is a steam vent at the edge of Neveranimas’s palace. It’s a two-thousand-foot drop straight over that magma chamber I mentioned earlier—”
Anahrod’s brain tried to run screaming from the room at the mention of “two-thousand-foot drop,” but she had wrestled herself back under control with some difficulty. She couldn’t afford to let her fears show.
But at least she knew why Peralon and Ris had thought it so important for her to get over her phobia.
Ris continued: “There’s a lock embedded into the wall a thousand feet down, then another five hundred feet before a side tunnel leads directly to the vault. None of which is trapped, because it’s the entrance Neveranimas actually uses.”
“Except the moment anyone who isn’t Neveranimas enters that steam vent, she’ll know. You can’t tell me she hasn’t created a warning spell… in the last seventeen years.” Anahrod didn’t think Jaemeh had noticed the split second of hesitation before she added that qualifier. After all, she shouldn’t be confessing ignorance to security measures she was supposed to have already encountered.
“That’s not a trap,” Ris pointed out. “That’s an alarm.”
“Eannis,” Jaemeh murmured. He gave Anahrod a look of amazement. “And you broke into that?”
“Mmm,” Anahrod replied.
Kaibren shook his head sadly. “In winter’s waltz, a fiery show, a tale of contrasts gleaming aglow.”
“You can say that again,” Claw agreed.
Anahrod left the table to pour herself a glass of wine. After a second’s deliberation, she poured one for Ris as well.
She was still mad at the woman, but at least Ris was explaining matters. That deserved a reward.
Anahrod silently set the glass in front of the dragonrider and returned to her own seat.
“There is a key,” Ris explained. “Opens up the entire thing.” She paused a beat. “We don’t have it.”
Jaemeh wasn’t the only person who rolled their eyes.
“That’s not the problem,” Ris said. “We know exactly where the key is. No, the problem is who owns the key: the dragonrider Brauge.”
Jaemeh exhaled sharply. “That’s Zentoazax’s rider.”
“And thus, why it’s a problem,” Ris agreed.
“Mind explaining it to the non-dragonriders in the room?” Sicaryon said archly.
“Zentoazax is on the elders’ council. Now, if it were anyone else, then when the dragon sensed something had happened to their rider, they’d probably fly over and investigate on their own. Which is bad,” Ris said. “Any angry dragon showing up is bad. But a dragon on the council has the authority to order entire dragon flights to investigate, which means if this goes wrong, we will have the scariest dragons in the city arriving on our doorstep immediately. So yes, it’s a problem.”
“No, it’s not,” Sicaryon said. “That’s not an obstacle. That’s motivation.”
Claw snorted.
Jaemeh, however, looked like he was seconds from storming off in a fury.
“Calm down before you rile up Tiendremos,” Ris told him. “It’s taken care of. The key looks like a sword. Brauge keeps it above the fireplace in her parlor. She has no idea of its real significance. Claw will infiltrate the household staff.”
“Just like that?” Jaemeh scoffed.
“Oh, fuck off,” Claw said before she raised her chin theatrically. “Kaibren’s been teaching me. My acting skills are superlative.”
“If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be sending you,” Ris said absently.
Claw blinked at the dragonrider, shocked. Anahrod had the sense that Claw had no idea what to do with the compliment, and so had frozen in place.
Ris continued: “Anyway, one of the current household servants just quit, having come into an unexpectedly large inheritance. Besides being a fantastic inscriber, Kaibren here is also a wonderful forger. Claw will have all her papers in order. Once inside, she’ll take a rubbing of the sword, which we’ll use to make a duplicate. As for how we’ll make the switch… that’s the easiest part. Every week, Brauge leaves the estate to attend a book club meeting that runs concurrently to the elder council meetings.”
“Sissara hosts those. I was invited once.” Jaemeh shrugged. “I’m not really a reader.”
“Consider soliciting another invitation,” Ris told him. “We could use someone to make sure Brauge doesn’t return early. We’ll use that window to substitute the fake sword for the real thing. Brauge will never know. Thus, Zentoazax will never know.”
“Great,” Jaemeh said. “Then what?”
Ris smiled. “Then, we’re going to attach ourselves via harness to Peralon, who’ll fly us down into the steam vent where Neveranimas has hidden the back entrance to her vault. This will require Kaibren to create the protective inscriptions, so we don’t burn to death or suffocate.”
“Reassuring,” Sicaryon said, sincerely.
“Once there, we’ll unlock the vault and send someone down. This key unlocks two entrances. One is dragon-sized and used by Neveranimas. The second is human-sized, one-way, and used by no one. We’ll bypass Neveranimas’s entrance because, as Anahrod pointed out, we can’t be certain she hasn’t added additional security.”
“And how do we know she hasn’t added security to the human door?” Jaemeh asked, which was a fair question.
“Because she’s too big to fit inside, she doesn’t have a rider to send in her place, but most importantly, because she doesn’t know it exists. If she did, she’d have destroyed it,” Ris explained. “As I was saying: we’ll send someone down by the human entrance. Their job will be twofold: first, to find and unlock the secret vault where the diamonds are hidden, and second, to disengage all the traps in the Hall of Death. Once that’s done, the rest of us will enter by the front entrance on the mountainside and load all the shiny rocks onto Peralon. The last person out will re-engage the traps, giving themselves a one-minute window to escape. Neveranimas won’t know how we entered and won’t be able to tell anyone what we took.”
Everyone settled back in their chairs, exhaling slowly.
“Damn, Ris,” Claw said. “You know I love it when you talk sexy.”
“And after?” Sicaryon asked. “What’s the escape plan? She might tell no one what we stole from her, but she can still shut everything down and start running her claws through random pockets until something shiny drops out.” He rubbed a finger under his lip. “And we should assume she has additional alarms. We better be able to do this in the time she takes to fly from the elders’ council chambers back to her vault, or be able to guarantee we can keep her from responding if her alarms go off.”
“How long would it take her to fly back?” Anahrod asked.
“Seven minutes,” Ris answered, then shrugged. “Technically, just a hair under eight minutes, but let’s assume she’ll push herself. As for the escape plan, you’ll have directions to a safe house and private berth on a cutter waiting for anyone not flying out by dragonback.” She raised her hands. “So. Are we good?”
Claw started to say something, and Kaibren elbowed her.
They were not good. Yes, it seemed like Ris had spelled out the essential plan, but she hadn’t mentioned a single word about the Five Locks, or the link between Neveranimas and Anahrod, or Gwydinion being in danger…
The woman still had secrets.
Sicaryon put his hand over Anahrod’s. “We’re good,” he told Ris. He squeezed Anahrod’s hand in a way she could interpret as easily as breathing.
Be patient. This isn’t over.