Page 94 of The Isles of the Gods
“She went back to the embassy. Who knows what she said, what was overheard.”
I look down at the square once more, at the fireball that’s turning into a bonfire—I can feel the spirits whirling around it, feel the intensity of the fire. I can sense the origin point through them, a point of heat so intense it must have been—
“It was a bomb,” I gasp.
Did it go off early? Were we supposed to be inside?
Suddenly I’m struck by the image of those two brawlers rolling across the hood of the auto—perhaps they weren’t fighting, but working together to get to their target.
The flames lick higher, and I know with a certainty like tight bands around my ribs that nobody’s alive in there. Not the ambassador, not the Queensguard.
Selly’s already grabbing at the clothes we have hanging up to dry, stuffing them into the bag we brought back from our shopping expedition.
“We have to goright now.Maybe we were supposed to be in the auto when it went off. Maybe they don’t know about us yet. But she just walked in and out of this place in full sight of whoever set off that bomb. So this is where they’re coming next.”
Keegan and I are frozen in place, simply staring at her. Then we snap into action, grabbing for our meager belongings. I shove my hand into my pocket, checking for the glass tokens I bought from the magician’s stall, sifting them through my fingers in readiness.
Selly edges the door ajar, peering out into the hallway. It must be empty, for she pushes it open, ushering us out urgently.
“Fire escape,” she says quietly. “Go, go.”
Keegan runs out, but Selly holds me in place with a hand on my chest as he throws open the door to the fire escape, looking down into the alleyway.
“Nobody’s here,” he calls back, scrambling over the guardrail and starting to climb.
“Now,” Selly whispers, shoving me after him.
“Leave the door open,” I tell her, and she nods, standing guard as I follow Keegan, readying myself to climb down the ladder.
As I get my foot onto the first rung, her head snaps up. Someone’s running along the hallway toward her, and I catch a glimpse of the girl from the ship—Laskia—her lips drawn back in a snarl.
There’s a huge man behind her, and I don’t need to see his magician’s marks to know what he is: the spirits are in a frenzy, whirling around him as he pulls a box of matches from his pocket.
I grab the glass pieces from my own pocket, flinging them into the hallway as my sacrifice, and they vanish as I reach for the spirits.
I find them, needle sharp in the embers of our fireplace, riding the whirling winds set in motion by our movements, and I pour my frustration, my anger, and my fear into my mental touch as I reach out to embrace them.Help me.
SELLY
The Salthouse Inn
Port Naranda, Mellacea
A column of fire comes roaring out the open door of our room, arcing around the corner to hurtle down the hallway toward our pursuers.
I drop to a crouch as a wall of scorching hot air hits me, scrambling toward the fire escape, Leander beside me.
Behind Laskia, the huge magician lifts his hand and twists it in a grasping motion, making a fist. His face is like a storm front, and he’s moving toward us with the same promise of destruction.
The fire begins to slow, to blossom outward, and to roll back toward us.
“Leander, go!” It’s as though everything around me freezes, the flames suspended in the air, my breath caught in my throat.
And then I see them—the gleaming forms of the air spirits whirling around the flames, driving the hot wind that wasbuffeting me, shaping the fire itself as it turns inexorably toward us.
“Stop it!” someone screams, and it’s me,I’mscreaming, high and hoarse. “Get back!”
I dig frantically in my pocket, pull out the three glass magician’s stones Leander gave me at the market, and hurl them into the hallway just as he did.
