The Spirit Rebellion(106)

“We’re not.” Miranda grinned and clunked her heel against the bucket.

She felt the water’s attention flit down to the floor, and then Mellinor heaved a sigh like a tide. “Miranda, be reasonable. I don’t think that thing is buoyant enough to float, let alone support you. Even if it did, I’d be turning the cell into a pool of toxic sludge. One slip and you’d be paralyzed forever.”

“That’s just a risk we’ll have to take,” Miranda said. She patted her chest where the water’s glow was the brightest and gave her spirit a confident smile. “If any water can float this bucket safely to the top, it’s you.”

“Flattery might work on the dog, but it gets you nowhere with me,” the water grumbled. “I’ll try, but only if you understand that once we start, we can’t stop. I can’t just send the water away again if it has nowhere to drain.”

Miranda flipped the keys over in her hand. “All you have to do is get me to the grate. I’ll take it from there.”

“All right,” Mellinor said. “Brace yourself.”

Miranda stepped into the bucket. “Ready,” she said.

“The undersides of your wrists are clean, so I’ll use those.” Mellinor’s voice was moving through her, collecting at her hands. “Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm.”

Miranda did as he asked, holding her hands out in front of her. What happened next was painless, but almost too intense to watch. The water spirit poured from the clean skin of her lower arms, flowing out of her pores like milk squeezed through cheesecloth. It hit the ground with a great splash, sending a splatter of the poison dust onto her skirt. Miranda closed her eyes and thanked whatever luck there was that she’d chosen the dress with thick, long skirts. Under her feet, the bucket groaned as water flowed around it, yet it did not start to float. Mellinor was completely out of her now, and she pulled her arms back, carefully holding them away from the parts of her dress that were still dry and dusty. The water kept rising as Mellinor pulled moisture from the air, the tiny specks of water too small to have consciousness, and into his body. When the water was less than a finger’s width from the lip of the bucket, the wooden slats beneath her feet finally began to wobble. The bucket left the ground with a pitch that made Miranda scramble. After that, she braced herself against the stone with both arms, using the straight walls as a guide as Mellinor gently floated her bucket up.

Even with Mellinor’s glow, the foaming water was filthy and foul smelling. Balancing became more and more difficult the higher they went, as the bucket began to bob on the swirling current. Miranda flailed her arms, keeping upright by pushing herself off the walls, first one way, then another, as the waves took her. Just when she’d finally gotten the rhythm of it, the game changed. She felt wetness in her boots. When she looked down between sways, she noticed about an inch of water on the low end of her makeshift boat.

Miranda gasped and jerked away, causing the bucket to pitch, and she almost fell in completely. She caught herself at the last moment, bracing against the wall as the water kept rising. Now that the water had found a way in, more and more of it was pushing up through the bucket’s cracks. Miranda bit her lip. Another moment and it would be up to her ankles. It was time to take a risk.

The grate was right above her, though still a foot out of reach. Before she could psych herself out, Miranda jumped. She jumped straight up, toppling the sinking bucket with her momentum. For a moment, her reaching hands caught nothing. Then her fingers slammed into the iron bars of the grate and she held tight.

“Mellinor!” she cried, grabbing the bars with her other hand as well and pulling her legs up. “Stop the water!”

The water stopped instantly, and for a moment Miranda hung there, gasping for breath as she clung to the bars. Only a moment, though, and then she was on the move again, pulling herself along the grate until she was right beside the iron padlock. It took several tries to find the right key, and then a great deal of pushing once she found it, for the lock was trying its best not to give in. But, in the end, purpose overwhelmed even spirit determination, and the lock snapped open. Unfortunately, in her hurry to get out, Miranda had neglected to determine which direction the grate opened. As it happened, it opened inward, something she found out very quickly when the grate swung down, taking her with it.

She yelped as the grate swung wildly, slamming her against the wall and knocking her breath out. But the hinges hadn’t been oiled in a while, and the grate, after its initial bout of movement, creaked to a halt, leaving her startled, upside down, and dangling mere inches above the foul water.