Hero

She had done magic! It had cost her, worn her to the bone, but she didn’t care. She considered doing it again immediately, checking in on Mama, or Papa and Peter in the Wood. Would she have the strength to perform that spell? Could she manage it before the witch found them?

Peregrine moved beside her, but Saturday refused to turn and look. She still wasn’t sure what to do with this man whose gilded cage she was about to destroy. The closer they became, the more difficult her decision would be when her destiny arrived. She needed to approach her fate with a clear head. Love. Obsession. Saturday had only ever felt those things about her work. People were just too messy and unpredictable.

“Are you all right?” she heard Peregrine ask.

She was wonderful, terrible, elated, and confused. She pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, for all the good it did, and edged closer to the dying coals. Briefly, she considered setting her clothes on fire for warmth. “Fine,” she said. “Cold.” She brushed the floor beneath the brazier with her hands until she encountered the sack with her boots and quickly put them on. “Where’s Betwixt?”

Peregrine put a hand to his head and Saturday realized how much her own ached. “That volume of magic would have effected a change. He’ll have slunk off to change shape somewhere colder.”

She didn’t want to imagine anywhere colder than here. “It was too much power. I couldn’t hold it.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “You should have focused on one mirror alone. I just didn’t know if any of them would work, let alone all of them.”

“But all of them did,” said Saturday. “I spent it all, everything I had inside myself, until my body shut down because there was nothing left to give. Perhaps I should try again. On only one mirror this time.”

“No.”

“Come on. Just let me try.”

“No, Saturday. It’s too much. I know how much you like working yourself into exhaustion, but I’d rather you not tax yourself to death.”

She hated his logic. “Then we should probably get up. I can’t imagine that went u

Other than rolling onto his back, Peregrine gave no sign that he had any intention of moving. “I’ve done . . . okay, not worse, but spells just as ostentatious with far more devastating results, and neither the lorelei, nor the dragon for that matter, has ever batted an eyelash.”

“Yes, but the witch wasn’t looking for a reason to kill you.” Saturday’s ears pounded as she stood. “She’s going to seek me out soon enough and expect my task to be finished. You need to find my sword and a way off this mountain.” She picked up the sack with the witch’s ingredients, and then checked the brush in her empty swordbelt and the dagger at her back. “I’ll light a lantern. You get us out of here.”

He seemed a bit taken aback at her gruffness, but she didn’t care. He rose, twisted himself back and forth, adjusted the runesword in his belt, and then bent to touch his toes. He was down there so long, Saturday wondered if he’d fallen asleep again, ass over applecart.

“Here.” She thrust the lantern into his hands. “Now move.”

They hurried, but the dark and winding path took far too long. Peregrine held a steady pace in front of her, but Saturday’s impatience had the better of her concentration, and she smacked her head every ten seconds.

“You keep that up, you’re going to be unconscious again.”

“You keep slowing down when you talk, you really will be a girl.” A set of yellow-gold eyes reflected their torchlight far-ther down the tu

Nothing answered her.

“Get your dagger out,” said Peregrine softly.

Saturday was way ahead of him. “What is it?”

“Brownies.”

14

The Sea of Dead

“ARE THERE usually so many?” Saturday asked as the brownies advanced.

“No,” said Peregrine. “Five or six in a pack at most.” He’d killed them for food and fur only as often as they’d raided his supplies.

Their cloudy eyes, reflecting the torchlight, glowed like wicked fireflies in the darkness. The initial pair of eyes had become two pairs, and then six, and then too many to count. Peregrine had stopped moving forward again, but Saturday did not scold him this time.

“Animals don’t swarm like that to attack,” said Saturday. “They’re fleeing something.”

“Or someone,” said Peregrine. Most likely the witch and her spell preparations, particularly if she wanted brownie teeth for her cauldron. “Run.”

They turned together and sped back down the tu

Saturday stayed close behind him, keeping her head down. Peregrine heard her grunt and curse as the brownies caught up with her on their scrambling legs. Some ran past him. He shook his skirt when it grew heavy, shaking loose the one or two brownies trying to hitch a ride. They scratched his legs and nipped at his ankles with those pesky, pointy teeth.

“Is it safe to lead them back to the mirrors?” Saturday called up to him.

He didn’t want to, but he wasn’t convinced they were leading this unstoppable flock of brownies anywhere. “I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“Where do we go from there?” she asked.

That was the next problem. If there was another way out of the mirror cave, Peregrine had yet to find it. “We’ll figure that out when we get there.”

Saturday muttered something about “stupid boys” as a brownie went sailing past Peregrine’s head. It landed with a squeak before him and scurried onward, disappearing into the wall of the tu

Peregrine stopped and turned, catching an armful of Saturday. It was not unpleasant, especially now that she’d bathed, though he was mindful of her dagger.

“What?”

“Look. There.” Peregrine waited until she saw what he saw. Before them lay the cave of mirrors, but there were no brownies inside it. No more of the rodents ran ahead of them. Peregrine lifted a squirming brownie from Saturday’s shoulder and set it on the ground. It ran away from the cave, back down the tu

Peregrine lifted his lantern and sca

Without disturbing the swarming brownies, Peregrine leaned into the crack. He could feel a draft— only a slight one, but a draft nonetheless. It smelled of warm metal and water and musk; he didn’t sense any sharp brimstone or dangerous gasses. The pillarstones and wall were thick and white with calcite, so the layers upon layers of scratches that the brownies had worn deep into the stones had never stood out.

“We could wait here until they’re gone,” said Peregrine, but he worried about the wisdom of keeping Saturday too close to the mirrors. Her desire to try the looking glasses again would quickly overpower his desire to keep her conscious.

“Or we can find out where they’re going,” said Saturday. She indicated the runesword at his side. “May I?”

Peregrine brightened. “Oh no. Me first this time.” He handed her the lantern and loosed the sword. Its length was awkward in the confines of the tu

The pillarstones were old and thick, but their age worked in his favor. Years of brownie tracks had worn down the stones enough so that it took only a handful of swings before the white calcite icing of stone shattered. The stragglers of the brownie herd squeaked their displeasure at the mess, hissing and spitting at him as he continued forward.