Either could’ve stomped on her throat and killed her. They weren’t going lethal, quite, but—the Wasp stabbed down again and this time it nicked her arm, and her skin blazed and burned. She had to get back on her feet. Thinking so short term wouldn’t help; she would die here battered and bleeding.

Orfeus got up and flung herself bodily at the Wasp, screaming. The Wasp lifted her blade a little too slow, startled. Orfeus clicked her fingers and clenched her hand into a fist and punched the Wasp hard with lightning trailing from her hand. The Wasp’s chin knocked back and she staggered.

Something hit hard into her back, and Orfeus swallowed a yell: burning, burning, the burning of a lash, fortunately through her cloak so it didn’t flog the skin from her. Orfeus danced a step forward and glanced back at the Starfish with their other whip raised. She let out a ragged breath, lifted her cloak over her face and rolled out of the way. Each time she got up slower.

“Nothing personal,” called the Shark, the first to speak. The Wolf shot him a glare, but more pressing was the small bomb the Shark threw from his belt, trailing smoke. Orfeus dived and rolled again, this time coming up a little closer to the solid blue light walls encircling the arena.

Smoke flaring up around her, Orfeus pressed her fingertips to the ground and channelled out sparks. The wall near her flickered. Not quite enough. The arch of her right foot gave a warning tingle.

Faolan rushed forward in a blur of motion, cauterknife glowing. Orfeus lurched up, lifting her knife, and as Faol brought hers down Orfeus caught it on the hilt. Surprisingly the boxy black hilt didn’t give way beneath the sharplight, but the blade slid off so close to her knuckles that Orfeus jerked her hand back and lost a moment to fear.

The Otter caught at her shoulders, trying to pinion her. Orfeus tried to wriggle free but couldn’t. She jackknifed and elbowed hard at any bit of flesh she could find, and jerked away and ran. After a moment she settled into a ready crouch, switching her knife on so the blade gleamed. Their armour would turn it anyway. She was in little danger of killing anyone.

She hadn’t thought she’d kill anyone in Tinctora either.

That should have frozen her, but it spurred her forward. She darted forward light on her feet like a dancer, weaving away from any who would grab her, and snagged one of the bombs from the Shark’s belt and danced back.

“You could have just poisoned the oatcake,” Orfeus called. Her arm itched and ached.

The Wasp pulled out a smaller throwing knife and shook her head. “The point is it’s a fight,” she said. Faol gave a quick, grudging nod.

Orfeus bared her teeth. “Not a fair one!”