Do not think of that, nor of early babies and how difficult it was for them to survive.

The shore rose into view. To the right she saw the settlement’s embankment.

“Too close,” muttered Joss. “Eh, well, now I know my heading.”

They passed above the turbulent break between sea and land. Mai glimpsed a party of unknown mounted men wheeling to face trouble: a mass of Qin and local riders approaching both from the direction of the settlement and, somehow, from the road behind the out-landers. The outlander troop broke toward the sea, the Qin in steady pursuit over rugged ground. Down the Qin drove them. A pair of arrows tipped with fire traced a spectacular arc out of the Qin company and up into the sky before plunging into the sinks and shallows along the shoreline.

Flame licked the surface, boomed in a sink with a startling burst, and then raced in a flare of light along the shore as the oily smear that stained the surface caught fire and spread.

The Qin pushed their enemy down into the burning sea.

PART SEVEN: CLEANSINGS

52

TWO RIDERS ON winged horses emerged from Toskala’s council hall and rose, flying, into the gathering night. In quick succession, four more emerged and galloped into the heavens in pursuit. The people crowded into Justice Square began to call and scream and argue in a clamor that made Nallo wish she could smack each one until they all shut up.

Pil was crouched beside Volias, his own face hovering just above the reeve’s parted lips. Straightening, he shook his head. “He’s dead.”

“The hells!” She ran up the ramp, pushed past some idiot shrieking woman in blood-soaked merchant’s robes, and stopped at the threshold, slammed by the reek of blood and the stench of death. Gagging, she backed away, and bumped into a person crowding up behind. She turned and slugged; Pil caught her arm.

“Cursed demons slaughtered them all,” she said, voice breaking on the words. “Nothing we can do here. Let’s get back to the hall.”

Pil slung Volias’s corpse over his shoulder. Nallo took point, shoving down the ramp and through the crowd with vicious pleasure in seeing people flinch away. Tears washed her face. She wanted to rip someone’s cursed ugly face off just for all the gods-rotted useless nattering, no one taking charge, an assembly of weak-hearted fools.

No one guarded the gate to Clan Hall, but a swarm of reeves and fawkners were streaming in and out of the lofts and buzzing in the torch-lit parade ground like bees smoked out of their hive. Seeing her and Pil, Peddo ran over.

“Ah, the hells!” he cried, but he wasn’t surprised to find Volias dead.

“There’s been a massacre at the council hall, demons guised as Guardians from the tales,” said Nallo. “Then Volias just dropped dead. What’s going on?”

“Bring him to the lofts.”