Kihrin felt something shove him from the side. He almost raised his sword before he realized it was Scandal, pushing him with her nose.

“Hurry!” Janel yelled. “You have ridden before, haven’t you?”

“Oh yeah, riding lessons every day when I was growing up in the slums of the Capital City.” Kihrin made a face. “Of course I’ve never ridden!”

Janel grinned. “Good thing you just need to hang on.”

Scandal shoved Kihrin again.

“Fine!” Kihrin snapped. “But don’t blame me if I fall off.” Urthaenriel murmured angry complaints as he sheathed her, but he ignored that. Kihrin grabbed a section of Scandal’s mane for leverage and jumped up on her back. Naturally, Scandal wasn’t saddled, and Kihrin felt sure that this wasn’t going to make for a fun ride.

He looked over in time to see Relos Var summon a horse out of thin air, a creature of smoke and darkness that looked ephemeral but held his weight perfectly.

“Show-off,” Kihrin muttered.

But all of them immediately perceived a problem. The narrow main path through the slums only allowed for one horse at a time, but now it was jammed with people trying to run away from the city. Some of those people were pushing others out of the way, resorting to violence in panicked fear for their lives.

“Make way!” Janel screamed, but they paid no attention. The firebloods shouted something too, but it seemed unlikely the Marakori had understood them.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Relos Var said. “We do not have time for this.”

Relos Var brought his hands together.

A portal opened on the ground ahead of them, spanning the width and length of the entire bridge.

Everyone on the bridge—as well as every building, shanty, and shack—fell through. Behind them on land, farther down the road leading to the city, Kihrin heard shouts and screams and the accumulated crash of multiple objects. Presumably this was every displaced building, shanty, and shack—all hitting the ground of their new location at the same time.

Scandal said something. So did Star. Kihrin liked to imagine both cursed eloquently. Kihrin himself could only look, slack-jawed, aware most of the others appeared similarly stunned. Time froze for a moment as everyone stared.

Then Kihrin remembered that this was the man the Eight Immortals had said they couldn’t kill. Although technically speaking, Relos Var wasn’t a man anymore. And on the plus side, the bridge was clear, and the Marakori living there were now evacuated.

Caring not at all what everyone else thought of his sorcery, Relos Var opened a second, less trap-like portal. “To the east gate,” he announced.

After a moment’s hesitation, everyone guided their rides—whether horse or fireblood—through.