There was no doubt about it. I lay there, staring past the merchant’s motionless body, at what looked like the view from my penthouse in Vegas. Actually, the overgrown, windswept ground was the exact opposite of it, but the angle was similar. Because we were still dozens of stories high.
I reached over and pulled Rosier back into real time, and watched him flail around for a minute, screaming bloody murder.
And then clutching the ceiling-turned-floorboards, webbed hands spread wide. “I . . . I think I wet myself,” he whispered.
I didn’t answer. I slowly got to my knees, wincing when I put weight on my sore one, and pushed a floating girl out of the way. And crawled over to the bars, squashing my face against the rusting metal until I grabbed hold of the merchant’s tunic. And jerked him over.
I found the key for the lock on his belt, and got it open after a minute of frustrated swearing. And swung the cage door wide, allowing me to look down. And then just stayed there, as still as everyone else.
Except for Rosier, who crawled up alongside. “What is it? Are we too high up for . . . for it to be survivable?”
“Yep.”
“Then . . . can you do it again?” He swallowed. “Can you let us fall for another few seconds, and catch us when we’re about to . . . hit down?”
“No.”
“No?” He looked at me, a little of the new, scared-shitless Rosier giving way to the old full-of-it variety. “Don’t you think we need a little more than ‘no’ in this instance?”
“No.”
“And why not?”
I pointed down. “That’s why.”
Rosier finally, very carefully, peered over the edge and into the void. And saw what I just had—namely, a glittering golden web, like from the butt of the world’s biggest spider, billowing out below us. Or no, I guessed, not exactly a web.
“Is that . . . is that . . . is that a net?” he demanded.
“Looks like it.”
“Why is it there?” He turned to me, looking almost indignant. And then he scowled some more, because yeah. The old Rosier was definitely back in charge now. “What are you doing?”
“Biting my nails.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have a clipper.”
“You—” H
e stopped, and the scowl became a glare. “Stop. It.”
“Why?”
“Because we have to get out of here, that’s why!” Only it was more like “Becausewehavetogetoutofherethat’swhy,” and now he was shaking me.
“Why?”
“Stop saying that!”
I sighed and left my hangnail alone. Mainly because I needed the finger to make a point. “One: a time stoppage doesn’t last long. In a few minutes, we’re going to finish that plunge anyway. Two: the only way for me to hurry that up is to use more power, which I don’t have because I just did a time stoppage. Three: The only way for me to override that would be to take more potion, and do I have to explain why I don’t want to take more potion?”
He sat there for a moment, vibrating, then leaned back over for another look.
It didn’t appear to improve his mood.
“How much do you have left?” he asked abruptly.