Barl let the emptied satchel slide from her throbbing shoulder and dropped onto the nearest stool. “Because if I’d died igniting it on the border, Remmie would’ve been stranded out there. If I die here he’ll not be inconvenienced. You of all people should appreciate that.”

“Barl,” Remmie said softly. “Don’t.”

Venette Martain exchanged a glance with Dreen Brislyn, then nodded. “Yes. All right. But can you ignite it now?”

“Surely we can wait until the morning,” Remmie protested. “Barl is worn out. She—”

Lips pinched bloodless, Dreen Brislyn stared him down. “We are all of us tired, Remmie. And we are out of time. You do know that people are sickening faster than ever? Dying from the slightest of ailments? You know we face the prospect of famine? And if this warding does not succeed, then—”

“He knows!” Barl said, leaping up. “And I know. We’ve just come back from seeing the damage I’ve done to Dorana. If you think I need a sharper goad, Lady Brislyn, think again!”

“Enough, Dreen,” Venette Martain murmured. “Your anger is justified, but not helpful. Mage Lindin, ignite the warding. Please. We must start Dorana’s healing. Even an hour might make the difference.”

And so, though it made her eyes and nose bleed, threatened to crumble her bones to dust, felt like it came perilously close to killing her… she ignited Dorana’s warding.

“Justice be praised,” she heard Venette Martain say, as Remmie gathered her close and held her hard against the wracking shudders and the pain. “We’re saved.”

For nearly three weeks, Barl thought that was true. The General Council dispatched a flurry of letters to the waiting princes and potentates, assuring them that Dorana’s rancid magics were now contained. Believing them, their neighbours did not attack. With fresh hope, Remmie led the mages of Elvado in more great workings, which achieved little in practical terms but helped keep spirits high. She joined him once… but an unpleasant and unexpected encounter with Maris Garrick and her family sent her back to the College, where she could work alone, without screaming insults, on repairing Dorana’s fraying magical fabric.

For nearly three weeks, she thought the worst was behind them.

“Barl, wake up. It’s important.”

Dragged resentful out of sleep, she blinked at her brother. “Remmie? Oh, go away. I spent all day and half the night shoring up the Hall and I’ve only just—”

And then she felt it. The absence of magework. Heard silence, when for days she’d heard, deep in her mind, like a lullaby, the distant thrumming hum of the impossible ward she’d created.

“Get up,” Remmie whispered, flickered with candle light and crouched beside the cot in her workroom. “The warding fell almost an hour ago. Venette says we must meet with Lady Brislyn and the General Council.”