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The provisions Draper had given them required no cooking—dried fruit and meat, cheese and fresh bread.

They all pulled what they wanted from their bags and silence descended as they ate and waited for the water in the pot Ivan had hung over the fire to boil.

Melodie found a cup in her bag, the same as everyone else, and held it out as Ivan poured the tea.

“What did you tell the lieutenant you’d show him tonight?” Caro asked.

Melodie hadn’t realized they’d heard the details of her and Theo’s conversation, but she’d assumed she would show him in front of the others, anyway.

There were uses for this she might not think of, and it was a weapon in their combined arsenal. It would be good to have everyone aware of it.

“The trader stole something from the spell caster—whose name is most likely Marchant.”

“How come he didn’t see the children?” Caro asked.

Melodie looked over to Theo, who was watching her silently, sipping from his mug. “He did,” she said. “He says he thought they were sleeping.”

Caro looked skeptical, but she gave a nod of acceptance.

“What did he steal?”

“This.” Melodie took it out of her bag. “A box of watercolor paints.”

Everyone leaned closer.

“And what’s special about them?” Gallain asked.

“If you draw something, it becomes real,” she said. “When my former boss locked me in my room on the top floor of the house, I drew rope and climbed out of the window.”

There was complete silence now.

“Show us.” Theo rose up and came to sit right next to her.

She took out a piece of paper, flipped it over to the blank side, and got out her brush and her bowl. She poured some water into it.

“What do you think would be useful to draw?” she asked.

“A knife.” Ivan was sitting on her other side, and he leaned closer, too.

“That’s a good one.” She nodded.

She drew a knife the full length of the page, angling the paper to see better in the dancing firelight. The others crowded around behind her, looking over her shoulder.

When she was done, she put it on the ground near the fire. “It needs to dry.”

“And then?” Theo asked. He hadn’t lifted his gaze from her work since she’d started painting.

“Then it vanishes off the page and becomes real.” As she said it, the fire dried the last of the water, and the paper was suddenly weighed down by the leather-handled knife she had drawn.

“Fuck me.” Ivan picked it up, tested the blade, and sucked in a quick, surprised breath at the sharpness.

Everyone took their seat, and Ivan passed it around, so everyone could feel and see it.

While they did it, Melodie counted under her breath.

Theo was the last to get it, and he turned it from every angle.

“Does it disappear?” he asked.