He felt his way over to the next room and bumped into something. He gasped.

“It’s just me.” Caisa’s voice. “They’re in here,” she said. “They’re heavy.”

She led him into the room. The barrels were only knee-high but as wide around as Ahkio’s arms.

“We need to roll this out,” Ahkio said. “Break them open in the stair.”

“We could burn down the whole square.”

“Better to burn down the square than die in it,” Ahkio said. “It’s cold and there’s no wind. The council house will burn because of the oil. Rolling these outside will take too much time. I can rebuild the council house, but I can’t save lives lost. Help me.”

She said something that sounded like a curse.

He tipped over one of the barrels and pushed it across the floor to the stairs. As they came to the stairs, Ahkio heard the sound of shouting grow louder. When he looked up in the direction of the sound, he saw bursts of color as weapons met.

Ahkio rolled the barrel into place at the bottom of the stair.

He heard Caisa behind him, rolling her barrel. “Caisa, set it here.”

He felt her settle the barrel against his opposite hip. Ahkio unstopped his barrel. He pushed it over. The oil glugged out. He stepped to the other side, fearful of getting his feet in the oil. He had a sudden, terrible image of his body aflame. He took a deep breath.

“Caisa, you have some scorch pods?” Ahkio asked. “I know you smoke. Check your pockets.”

“I don’t have any.”

Ahkio patted his tunic pockets. The Dorinah book, a pen nib. But there, deep in his trouser pockets, were two scorch pods. In his haste to dress, he had grabbed Liaro’s trousers instead of his own. Ahkio tore one of the end pages from the Dorinah book and twisted it lengthwise.

He heard Ohanni yelling.

Ahkio smashed the pods and touched the end of the twisted paper to them. He blew gently. A tiny flame flickered. Grew. He flinched in the face of it. Burning the council house had seemed like a fine idea until he lit a flame. Ahkio glanced across from him at Caisa.

But the figure squatting across from him was not Caisa.

Ahkio cried out. The paper fell from his hand and into the oil. The flickering fire licked at the oil and became a gluttonous flame. Smoke stung his eyes. He remembered his mother shrieking.

Ahkio fell back away from the stair. On the other side of the river of oily fire was a wiry, dark-haired man. The man grinned. Caisa’s height. Caisa’s slender build. His eyes glinted gold.

He spoke with Caisa’s voice. “Kai, what’s wrong? Not who you expected?” He drew his sword. “Have you not fought an omajista?”

Ohanni screaming, “Kai!”