Sonder stared at the wall, then at Vhereli.
His eyes burned with a clear hatred.
She stepped toward the wall, placing her palms flat against its rough surface. It was thick, but not as thick as the outer walls of Gloam. She could push through, it would be loud, but possible.
Behind her, Vhereli hissed, "Hurry up. I can hear them. Someone's coming."
He had no patience left.
Sonder tilted her head slightly, listening. Footsteps echoed somewhere down the corridor, faint but growing closer.
"If we're outside, they can't touch us," he said. "Not in public."
Sonder braced herself and flexed her fingers against the stone. She could use the pulse, like when she launched herself into the sky to glide, but this time the blast would be clean, direct, aimed straight at the wall.
She steadied herself, planting her feet. The pulse wouldn't be gentle. It would be raw and dangerous. She could launch herself off her feet instead of destroying the wall, but there was no time.
The footsteps grew louder.
"Do it now!" Vhereli hissed.
Sonder drove her magic forward in a single, focused pulse. Pressure surged through her palms like a storm breaking against rock.
The wall exploded, crackling and splitting like ice, opening a jagged hole that spilled sunlight into the hall.
Vhereli stumbled forward, his eyes wide with relief. He breathed the dusty air as if it were a blessing.
Sonder's arms ached; a faint tremor ran through her hands, but she stood firm.
Vhereli turned to her. "Then don't just stand there," he said. "Move."
They slipped through the opening into the street.
If they were chased, they would have to be caught amidst the crowd. But they were quick, and the sounds of shouting from Hoar's halls fell away rapidly.
They reached the shadow of an alley. Vhereli's chest rose and fell in sharp breaths. He was deathly thin and looked sickly, his red skin tinged with a sickly green and yellow.
He looked away, but the faintest flicker of gratitude crossed his face. "I didn't ask for your help," he said. "But I'll take it over rotting in there."
Sonder raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome."
"For an outlander," he muttered, "you're surprisingly useful."
His eyes drifted back to the city. "Where are they?" he asked suddenly. "My father. My aunt."
"At the courthouse," Sonder said. "There's a session today about you. Thiliel said both houses would be there. I don't know the exact place."
"That I do," he said, snapping back into sharp certainty. "Of course I do."
"Maybe you should go back to your seat and wait for them. Rest. Gather yourself."
"No." He cut her off, shaking his head. His tangled hair fell into his face, but it didn't soften the edge in his voice. "I won't sit. I have hate to deal out. I won't wait for it. Hoar took me. Hoar tortured me. I want them to suffer. I want them shamed, in public, no less."