“Then,” Baru said, thinking it out as she spoke, “the Prince Bosoka sends you home to Aurdwynn. Ake, please, you still have my letter? The letter with the polestar seal? Tell the Prince that the Emperor will be pleased if you’re delivered safely home. Tell the Prince that it could help avert war. Just don’t mention my name—”

“Why not?” Ake demanded.

“Just go, go, please, this is your only chance!”

A strange light cast new shadows over them.

Iscend looked out the window. “Rockets,” she said, smiling in anticipation of the new services she could perform, the extinction of fires and the mollification of wounds.

Sulane’s first volley crashed down on the farm.

*   *   *

FALCREST did not make explosives. Falcrest made incendiaries. Leave the fireworks and stupid guns to the Oriati, whose experimental cannon could batter a wooden ship for hours without sinking it. Why load a frigate with so much heavy useless weaponry, when a single Burn rocket could raze a ship to ribs and keel?

Flash powder was good for this and that, of course. Signal fireworks. Grenades.

And the occasional dazzle.

Sulane’s rockets blew up in chains of white light and migraine noise. Shock killed the little birds on Faham’s farm. The dog barked and barked and cried. Baru hid beneath the table with her arms wrapped around her head and her heart jumping at every bang.

Someone pulled her up—Execarne. He grinned wolfishly, high as a frog-licker, and said something which looked like “Yawa’s off to the races!” Baru followed his pointing hand. Iscend Comprine had dragged Yawa outside, toward the farm well, the well, they had to get to the well.

Baru grabbed Ulyu Xe. “The well! Go to the well!”

Then she crawled to Ake, who’d maybe never seen fireworks in her life: she was pinned to the floor, mumbling and clawing at her ears. Baru grabbed her by the chin. “GET THE OTHERS! GET THEM AND GO! FIND THE ORIATI!”

Dziransi reached for Ake and drew her toward the door. The woman looked back at Baru in terror, and then, as if astonishing herself, held up Baru’s letter of governorship. This? she seemed to ask. This is real?

Yes, Baru nodded. Yes. Take it. Go home. Rule Vultjag.

“Nitu!” the herbalist Yythel shouted. “Nitu, wait!”

But the cook had decided to get as far from Baru as she could. She was feeling her way along the north wall, toward the door there. Yythel lunged after her, but she was dazed and half-blind and couldn’t reach her friend in time.

The door opened. The cook was through and gone.

Ake and Dziransi stumbled outside. Yythel, Ude, and Run went after them. Baru prayed they’d reach the Oriati before Ormsment found them.

“I should go with them,” Xe said. “They need me.”