Sam passed the hours she was conscious talking to Missy. They could hear each other through the front doors of their cells. The Reverend's men had brought Sam in unconscious and dragged her into the cell. Missy heard the commotion and decided to pipe up and see who her new companion might be. She was overjoyed to find a friendly face. Or, given the circumstances, a friendly voice.

  "Miss Samantha, when we get out of here I'm gonna get my momma to make you the biggest dinner you ever had," the little girl said. Her voice was now hopeful.

  Sam hadn't heard Missy cry in a couple of days. She assumed it had been days. There was no indication of the passage of time in the cell, no window to track day or night. She tried to keep herself awake when Missy was awake to provide some comfort for the girl, even though Sam herself was starting to feel a little hopeless. The Reverend's henchmen had taken all of her tools and implements of spellcraft. She had no chalk with which to draw a sigil to even attempt a sloppy spell aimed at gaining freedom.

  The little girl had revealed that the Reverend was their landlord, and the landlord of many of the houses in their neighborhood. Missy told her he wasn't big on spending money fixing up places. Slums were all too common in the city and slumlords along with them. This Reverend didn't practice his teachings.

  "That's right, little one," Sam replied. "Soon as we get out of here, we're gonna have a big old dinner. Did I tell you I got me a gold coin?"

  "A gold coin," said Missy. "Why, I've never seen a gold coin in all my life. I would buy so many cakes!"

  "That's right," laughed Sam. "I'm probably gonna buy a few cakes myself. How about I get you a cake when we get out of here? Would you like that?"

  "Well, why, yes. However, I believe I'm the one who should be buying you a cake. On account of how you came and tried to rescue me. Well-intentioned as you were, bless your heart."

  The guards hadn't treated them roughly, and as much as possible had simply ignored their presence. Sam was at least grateful for this. Her captors could have been much meaner, given how vulnerable she and Missy were.

  Sam had questioned the young girl about her treatment and how she had been captured. Her blood boiled when she discovered that Missy's own mother had put her in the room and told her to wait there and that she'd come back for her. Either the woman was in dire trouble, or Sam would make her wish she was.

  Sam had no grand plans for escape. She hoped when they came and gathered her for whatever nefarious purpose they had in mind she would be able to spot some tactic or advantage that would allow her to escape with the child. The apathy of her jailers started to worry. It made her wonder what their plans were. You don't keep someone this long if you don't have something in mind to do with them. Sam had no information with which to surmise what that might be.

  There was a small scratch at the door. Tiny claws scrambled at the doorway, trying to find purchase. Under the door, where there was a small gap made by age and disrepair, appeared a tiny brown nose with bright white whiskers.

  "Human," said the tiny voice from the tiny snout. "Thou art favored! The rats have come to aid thee."

  It was Curbdirt.

  "Miss Samantha, is someone talking to you?" said the little voice from the cell next to Sam's.

  "Yes, sweetheart, just a second," replied Sam. "Let me talk to my friend."

  "Hello, little rat," Sam said, addressing the flattened rat that squeezed itself under the door.

  Rats were surprisingly flexible creatures, able to fit through tiny openings and narrow gaps. In this case, Sam could barely get her hand through the gap between the door and floor that Curbdirt managed to squeeze his entire body through. Sam didn't know if her new rat friends were small or large. She remembered much bigger rats hauling around crusts of bread and the like in her journeys through the city.

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  "Human, thou knowest me. Address me formally. I am Curbdirt. My brother Trashwater also graces thee."

  The other rat had begun its scramble through the gap under the door. She could tell now that Trashwater was a full shade lighter than his brother. Their faces were the same. She supposed this was family resemblance.

  "Human," said the new rat curtly. "I see thou art captured."

  She had not seen the rats much since her audience with the Spirit of the City. She had assumed they were emissaries only. Messengers sent to summon her to the Spirit. She was grateful for their appearance now.

  Sam nodded to greet the new rat.

  "Did the Spirit send you?" she asked.

  "Human!" said Trashwater. "Thou art a disrespectful sort. Show reverence to the Great Mother when thou speakest."

  "Of course, forgive me. The Great Mother. Did she send you?"

  "No," said Curbdirt. "She bade us follow thee after thy audience. She bade us protect thee. We have been watching for many days now. It was only when thou emerged not from this cell that we assumed the other humans meant thee ill.

  "Be wary, human. These humans stink of foul magic, profane ritual, and blood."

  Sam had assumed as much. She trusted the judgment of the rats with regards to where magic had been at play. She knew the rats had at least some innate sense of where magic was, such that they could avoid it.

  "Well, I do appreciate your consideration, my friends. I wonder if between the two of you, you could undo the latch on this door."

  "We see thy egress is blocked, human," said Curbdirt. "Some damned piece of metal hangs from the latch. It doth stymie our efforts to free thee."

  So in order to make her escape, Sam would not only have to teach the rats where to find her lock pick set but also the means and method by which to pick a lock. Her elation at having allies appear in this dire situation deflated somewhat at the realization of the limitations of rats.

  "Fear not, human. Thou knowest not the nobility of rats. Nor dost thou know of our strength. Thou canst be forgiven for underestimating us. We will show thee. We do not need thy petty human ways. Such is not the way of rats: keys and locks hinder us not. This door is made of trees.

  "We will set thee free."

  The rats spent the next several hours chewing away at the wood near the bottom hinge of Sam's solid wood cell door. Sam thought she would be able to break the door free if they could get through the wood. It took several hours, but the rats managed to chew through the door.

  Sam pressed herself on the lower part of the door, her back against it, her feet against the floor. She squatted down and pressed as hard as she could. The door's dry wood creaked under the pressure. As she pressed her back against it, the strange leverage, which the door's hinges were never made to handle, snapped under the strength of Sam's legs. It was easier than she thought. She supposed her recent cases had given her an extra bit of vim and vigor.

  "Trashwater. Go and see if you can find where the guards are or an exit," she ordered the rat. "Make sure no one's coming." The rat obeyed and ran off down the corridor.

  "Curbdirt, once I get the lock off of this door there's a little girl inside. I want you to take her out of here. Can you do that for me?"

  "Human, thou art chosen by the Great Mother. For thee, I would do much."

  Sam found a bit of masonry lying nearby, crumbled from the surrounding wall. It was larger than her hand, and heavy. She smashed it into the lock. It gave after only a few hits. She flung the door wide and Mississippi came running out. Before she could react, the little girl had her arms around her waist and her head buried into Sam's stomach. Missy was only ten years old and had been here longer than Sam. She was starting to show the signs of malnutrition. Her dark cheeks a little too thin. Her arms a little too spindly, even for her age.

  Sam wasn't the hugging type. She humored the little girl, squeezed her shoulders, before pushing her back.

  "Missy, listen. My friend here is going to take you out of this place. Follow him. Go where he tells you to go. And stay out of sight. You understand? I don't know where we are, but my friend here knows how to get everywhere safely. Just listen to what he tells you. Okay?"

  Missy looked up at Sam and said, "Are you going to go find my mama?"

  "Missy, do what I said and get out of here right now. Yes, I'm going to go find your mama. I'm also going to see about finding the people who did this to us."

  "Okay," said Missy. "Who am I supposed to follow?"

  Curbdirt had hidden in the cell while Sam broke Missy's lock.

  "This is my friend Curbdirt. He's a very nice rat," Sam said. "You can talk to him. He's going to take you where you need to go. Just follow him, okay?"

  "A rat? What rat?" said Missy.

  "Hello, human pup," said Curbdirt. "I shall protect thee."