Sa glyph [https://i.imgur.com/plK5EWM.png]
Sam lay on his belly, peering over the roof ridge to the street below. With smoke thickening the clouds, dusk was coming early, and the lamps hadn’t been lit. In the shadowed street, the red cloaks of the soldiers stood out starkly.
They were Phylaxes, and not just a patrol: twenty tall men marching in a column, all red capes and gleaming armour, every boot striking the paving stones together as if they were all moved by a single mind. Many had guns as well as swords.
Behind them came another twenty men, less impressively equipped. They didn’t march so smartly, either, though that might be because every man had a small barrel cradled in their arms or balanced on their shoulder.
Beside him, Andra remained silent as they watched the soldiers march past. Sam kept his head down, though caution wasn’t really needed — the Phylaxes looked ahead only, not up. When they’d passed, he stood, careful of his footing on the sloping tiles.
The marching soldiers were heading uphill, the same way Andra had been leading him. The same way Lorie was going.
‘Hsst.’ Andra touched his arm and jerked her head toward the streets below.
‘What is it?’
‘Other men.’
Sam heard nothing. Andra’s ears were sharper than his; he waited and a few breaths later, the tramp of boots on cobbles came faint but clear, echoing along the streets. Not so large a group, and not marching in time like the Phylaxes.
Two men arrived ahead of the main group, quick and cautious, peering around corners. They were plainly dressed, like working men, but each had a blue armband. Blue was the Anemari colour — but were they working with the Phylaxes, or pursuing them?
The scouts passed, and now the rest came into view. Definitely Anemari, the leaders wearing blue capes over armour. They had swords, but no guns that he could see. Bringing up the rear were rougher looking men, some with crossbows, some only with cudgels. And strolling in the middle of the group were two women: one with long dark hair, one short, grey-haired, and rather stout.
Sam’s heart bounced. It was Nana. He’d know her anywhere. Even from this strange angle, no one else in the world walked like Nana, or scowled like her, or crossed her arms like her. But what was she doing here, in such strange company? He glanced at Andra. ‘Is that…?’
She nodded. No doubt about it then — Andra wouldn’t make a mistake.
Sam squinted down at Nana and the Anemari. She and the other woman moved freely. They didn’t seem to be prisoners. What were they all doing here? Where were they going? If they continued on their current course, they risked running into the larger force of Phylaxes.
‘I should go to Nana.’ Every beat of his heart urged him to go to her. But what to do about Andra and Cara? And Lorie was heading up the hill and doubtless into trouble. ‘Can you find Lorie and help her, if she needs help?’
Andra shrugged. ‘Yes.’
Balancing easily on the sloping roof, she and Cara moved off at their effortless loping run. They’d travel much faster without him, Sam realised — even Cara, with her broken arm. Andra had been going slow for his benefit, like she was humouring a helpless kid.
Though, really, Andra was faster and tougher than anyone. Which was a puzzle, now Sam thought about it, but he had more important problems claiming his attention.
He scrambled down the roof to the gutter, slid down the drainpipe, and dropped lightly to the ground.
When he reached the main street, he stepped directly into the path of a huge bald-headed man, who levelled a crossbow at him. Sam froze, struck by the thought that if he was wrong, and they were hostile, he’d made a very large mistake.
The big man had arms like joints of ham, making the crossbow he cradled look like a toothpick. He frowned at Sam. ‘Get off the street, boy. Go home, if you got one.’
‘There’s a Phylaxes troop heading the same way you’re going. If you keep on you’re likely to run into them, and there’s more of them, and they got guns.’
‘Yeah, like that’s news. Just clear out, kid.’
‘I saw them. Let me talk to your boss.’
‘The captain, you mean?’ The man laughed. ‘He don’t need advice from street-rats. Get lost, before I kick you.’
The breeze was cold around Sam’s legs. Out in the open air, the thin green robe was uncomfortably draughty, not to mention embarrassing. A thick coat of dirt didn’t help his appearance much either. ‘Am not a street-rat. My grandma’s with you.’
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‘Pull the other one—’
Sam side-stepped him, ducked his clumsy grab, and ran. ‘Nana,’ he yelled. Blue cloaks and coats whirled before him as he span, dodging between men. ‘Nana!’
‘Sam!’
Nana charged toward him. Sam ran into her arms.
‘Sam!’
‘Nana!’
She sobbed and held onto him as if she meant to never let go. ‘By rights I should tan you into shoe-leather, all the grief you’ve given me and your father.’
‘Sorry, Nana. I’ll never run away again.’
She beamed at him, tears streaming down her face. ‘Damn me. Damn me, look at you, you lying little scamp, standing there in nothing but a floor-rag with your sweet face all torn up like some wild thing. What in Sammael’s name have you been doing to yourself?’
‘It’s a long story. Dad—’ All he could see were the Anemari soldiers, who’d gathered round them, and the dark-haired lady — Grace, he remembered, Dad’s friend Grace, who was a proper lady. ‘Where is he? What’s going on?’
Her smile faded. ‘He’s gone. Them Oryche took him.’
‘What?’ Sam’s heart bumped as he realised what she was saying. His father had been arrested. Lord Oryche had him, the same Lord Oryche who had tried to kill him before. ‘Then we have to get him back.’
A tall young Anemari in gleaming gilt-trimmed armour loomed over them. ‘As I’ve been trying to explain to the ladies, though I sympathise with the man’s plight, a rescue isn’t going to be practical. This is as near to House Oryche as I’m prepared to risk my men. We should return to safety while we still can.’
Grace gave Sam a quick smile before turning her attention to the Anemari. ‘Captain Robar, I can’t ask you to risk your men on Simon’s account, or mine. However, I also have no intention of returning to safety. Though perhaps Nana would like to go back with Sam?’
‘No!’ Sam yelped.
Robar frowned. ‘Your ladyship, my orders are to protect you, so far as I can. But I’m not going to order my men to assault House Oryche against a superior force of Phylaxes armed with guns. That would be suicide.’
‘There’s a big troop of Phylaxes just ahead of you,’ Sam blurted. ‘I saw them. They’d wipe you out.’
‘We know,’ Robar said, sounding none too pleased. ‘We introduced ourselves outside the Refuge. They agreed to withdraw then, but I doubt they’ll back down from a fight where the situation favours them.’
‘Well, then,’ Grace said calmly. ‘You must do your duty as you see fit, and so must I. If need be, I will go alone.’
‘You won’t.’ Nana scowled. ‘For I’ll go with you.’
‘And me,’ Sam said quickly.
L glyph [https://i.imgur.com/2vwU4yB.png]
Lorie strode up the hill. A sure, ever stronger sense of direction pulled her onward and upward to where the dark, rambling mass of House Oryche rose from the hillside.
The black wrought-iron gates with the labyrinth symbol were closed, and before them stood a squad of Phylaxes — six tall men in bright armour and capes the colour of fresh blood, all with guns.
One of them blocked her path. He was a young man, not much older than her. His hair was the colour of copper and his eyes were the brown of old pennies. ‘Hullo, sweetheart.’ He smiled. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘I must enter,’ she said. The thing she wanted, the thing she needed, was in the house. She had to go to it — as a rock had to fall to earth, or the sun rise in the morning.
The guard blinked. ‘Do you have business?’
Fire kindled in her hands, rapidly swelling into a whirling ball of flame. ‘Yes.’
‘Woah.’ The guard stepped back and levelled his gun.
Six guns pointed at her chest, as if they believed their toys could stop her. Toys of steel, each containing blasting powder: when the trigger was pulled, it made a spark to ignite the powder, which exploded and expanded, propelling a lead bullet down the barrel.
And into her chest, she supposed. Six bullets would certainly kill her, and if she died, she couldn’t do what must be done.
Guns are bad.
Six charges of blasting powder exploded. Sharp bangs sent shards of hot metal scything into soft human flesh.
Are there more? The answer came back at the speed of thought: hundreds of guns, all across the city, far too many in the sweaty hands of men who were over-excited, stupid, or evil. But it was the blasting powder that made them dangerous. An unloaded gun was simply a metal club.
Burn it all.
All the blasting powder in the city, from the tiny charges in guns to flasks and barrels and factories and alchemist’s workshops… It made for a satisfying series of bangs.
There. That’s tidier. We are making the world a better place.
Fresh smoke rose from the industrial district and slums, and over the docks showers of blue and green sparks bloomed against dark clouds.
Lorie remembered one cold winter evening in the square at Sark, how the Alchemist’s Candles had lit the upturned faces of the crowd. She’d gripped her father’s hand, anticipation tight in her stomach, excited and afraid and awed all at once.
Of course, Alchemist’s Candles used blasting powder too. She’d forgotten.
Two men lay on the ground before the gates, one unmoving, the other groaning. One scrambled away. Three remained, one the young man who had spoken to her. His face was bloody and his sword trembled in his hand.
He was hurt and afraid, and she hadn’t intended that, only to destroy the guns. The men were in her way, though. If they had let her pass they wouldn’t have been hurt. So logically, it was their own fault.
More men were running from the house. She had to enter the house. They were in her way.
The fire in her hands swelled to a searing white globe as big as hersel. Men screamed, briefly. The gates melted and slumped as the fireball ploughed through. It rolled up the path turning the ornamental box hedges to charcoal as it passed, hit the front door of the house, and exploded.
Good.
Lorie stepped over the charred lump that had once been a man, strode through the twisted remains of the gates and down the blackened path. Glowing salamanders romped at her side like hunting dogs.
No one else got in her way.
Sa glyph [https://i.imgur.com/plK5EWM.png]
When the dull crump of an explosion hammered through the air, Sam, along with everyone else, cowered instinctively. The first bang was distant, maybe from the docks, and then there was a big one — the industrial district, he thought — and then another big blast, much closer, only a few streets away.
Silence followed, tense with the anticipation of another blast which didn’t come. Cautiously, Sam stood. Around him, the Anemari marines straightened and stared at the dust and smoke rising over the roofs.
‘Light,’ Captain Robar said. ‘What was that?’
‘Blasting powder,’ Sam answered. The Phylaxes troop he’d seen — they’d been loaded down with small sturdy casks, exactly like the casks of powder shipped to Sark for use in the mines. ‘A lot of it.’