The door was thin, though. He could probably kick through it. The only problem would be the noise. Harper drew in a deep breath of the stale air around him. He needed to remain calm. Slowly, he shifted his body in the confined shaft. He rested his right leg against the little door. Between the taut line of his left leg and his back, he held himself in place against the shaft walls. The muscles of his legs and back ached, but he didn't dare to shift.
He waited for the alarms to begin their piercing screams. Then he kicked with all his strength in time with the alarms. The tin door dented and then snapped off of its hinge.
Harper pulled himself through the opening, tumbled to the floor in a dark room, and then shot to his feet. He had to reach the steeple tower before the guards organized a floor by floor search. He had already lost precious moments waiting for the alarms to sound.
He cracked the door and looked out into the hall. Three guards rushed past and turned up another hall. They were still gathering in Lord Cedric's room, Harper thought. He still had a chance. The hall was clear. Harper bolted out of the room and sprinted for the steeple tower ladder at the far end of the hall.
He vaulted up onto the iron rungs. His right hand burst with blinding pain and refused to grip. Harper shoved himself up higher and caught his weight with just his left arm. He climbed fast, pouring his fear into the furious speed of his muscles. He hardly gripped a rung before he swung his arm up for the next one. He climbed past one floor, then the next, until he bumped against the underside of the trap door.
He shoved the door aside and pulled himself up into the room. The dim glow of the shadowed moon drifted through the one tower window, illuminating the scattered forms of storage boxes and bare rafters. Harper knelt and pushed the trap door closed again.
"The guards are already searching the grounds." Harper recognized Belimai s voice, but it took him a moment to see him. He stood in a deep shadow between a huge spool of rope and the wall.
"You shouldn't still be here," Harper said between deep breaths.
"Neither should you."
"I had trouble with a door."
"Your hand looks bad." Belimai came closer.
"Does it? I can't see it very well. It feels like hell." Harper curled his left hand around the right one. His glove was slick with blood.
"You aren't going to be able to climb like that," Belimai said.
"No." Harper glanced around the room. "Help me push one of those boxes over this door."
Belimai helped him and then sat down on top of the box next to him.
"So, do you have another plan?" Belimai asked.
Harper dug through his pocket with his left hand and pulled out the confession.
"You take this to Richard Waterstone. He's the editor of the Daily Word. Tell him that he has to print it."
"And you?"
"I'll make a full confession against Abbot Greeley. At the very least, it will cause a scandal. It might even get charges brought up."
"They'll hang you, Harper."
"Who knows, I might get lucky—"
"Don't lie to me," Belimai snapped. "You'll be killed."
Harper wanted to come up with some other plan, but he knew there wasn't anything more he could do. At least if he were arrested, he would have a trial. His statements against Abbot Greeley would be heard and put on record. If he could get Lord Cedric's confession published at the same time, then it might spark a full investigation of the abbot's practices.
"Take the confession, Belimai," Harper said quietly.
"No. I won't—" Belimai stopped short as the noise of boots clanging against the iron rungs of the ladder drifted up from below them.
"You have to go now," Harper whispered.
"I have an idea. Come here." Belimai stood and walked to the window. Harper followed him.
Belimai pulled out his jack knife and then, before Harper could stop him, slashed the blade across his own palm.
"Belimai, what are you doing?"
Belimai thrust his bleeding hand up to Harper.
"Drink it," he said.
Harper stepped back in automatic repulsion.
"We don't have time to argue, and I'm not going to leave without you." Belimai thrust his hand out farther. Harper opened his mouth to refuse, then stopped himself. It would have been utter idiocy to refuse. He wouldn't just be dooming himself, but he would be taking Belimai with him. He lowered his head over Belimai's hand and sucked in a mouthful of blood. It was blazing hot and tasted like it had been mixed with wine. A burning trail spread across his tongue and poured down his throat as he swallowed. Heat flooded through his stomach and radiated out through his body. His muscles felt feverish and strangely fluid.
Harper drew in a breath of the cold air. The scents of gunpowder, sweat, and his own blood hung over him. He could also smell Belimai's hair and the rats lurking in the dark corners of the room.
There was a loud crack as one of the guards rammed against the blocked trap door.
Harper took another swallow of the blood that pooled up from Belimai's hand. He concentrated on the wind pouring in from the open window. The currents of air and falling rain swung and turned like solid masses. He reached out and touched a gust of wind. It rolled under his fingers and shifted as he turned his hand.
"Can you feel it?" Belimai asked.
"Yes." Despite the urgency, Harper couldn't help but feel amazed. The dark hollow of the night transformed around him.
Rich tones of violet and blue tinted the currents of wind. They rolled over Harper, touching his burning skin and brushing through his hair like curious fingers. Droplets of rain and pungent scents hung on the winds like thousands of brilliant beads.
Another loud crack rang through the small room. This time it was the sound of the wooden trap door splintering under the blow of an ax. The box on top of the door jarred with the impact.
"We have to go." Belimai jumped up onto the window frame and then dived out.
Harper climbed up after him. He crouched on the sill for a long moment, assuring himself that he wasn't about to throw himself to his death. The wind wrapped around him and pulled at his arms. Belimai looked back at him from the midst of the swirling air. Harper took a deep breath and stepped out into the open arms of the night.
He fell for an instant. Then suddenly, a rush of wind swept up from beneath him and lifted him high up into the sky. The air rolled under him and rose like a cresting wave. He turned and twisted like the drops of rain caught in the wind with him. Each shift of his hands or twist of his body swung him out in another direction. He soared from one rushing current to the next without knowing how to control his flight.
In a matter of moments he was blown far out over the city steeples and smoking chimneys. Rising gusts from the river swept up and gently lifted him higher into the sky. The searchlights at White Chapel glittered like distant stars. The waters of the river below him moved like the glossy body of a small centipede. A thrill of both fear and exhilaration shivered through Harper s stomach. Harper closed his eyes, concentrating on moving his body through the columns of tumbling air.
He felt Belimai's hand close around his wrist. Harper glanced over to see Belimai holding his hand and soaring beside him. He relaxed and moved with Belimai, emulating the small turns and twists Belimai used to glide between the currents. As he moved with Belimai, some instinct deep in his blood seemed to awaken. A natural sense of how to manipulate the swelling waves of the wind flowed through him.