I reached back and grabbed Brother Qown’s agolé midair, but he held on to me so tightly I imagined I felt his fingernails through my armor. Mid-leap, I saw Sir Baramon take advantage of the defending soldiers’ wide-eyed awe to stab one through the leg before ripping his sword free to hack at a second’s soldier’s thigh. He might have gained some weight, but he hadn’t lost his skill.

We hung in the air forever, time slowing to a crawl. Then the seconds sped up again as Arasgon landed hard on the wooden planking, the impact jolting through his body and reverberating through my bones. Qown let out a surprised yelp.

Then we were galloping again. The soldiers scattered. I didn’t see anyone with the glyph marked on their foreheads. These poor fools had just been trying to protect themselves with wood and stone. And failing, because they had no idea what they faced.

Neither did I, but I knew more than they did.

Arasgon pulled into a trot, calling out a greeting to his brother Talaras.

“Let my man give you his blessing,” I ordered Sir Baramon. “It will protect you when the witch-smoke comes.”

“It’s already here, Count,” Sir Baramon called out.

Which was true. The closed drawbridge bought us a few seconds, but the blue smoke shimmied through cracks and leaked around the edges like a living thing seeking warm bodies and blood.

Brother Qown half fell, half slid off Arasgon’s back and ran forward to mark the rune on Sir Baramon and Talaras. It looked for all the world like he traced their skin with a glowing fingertip, leaving behind a mark the same glowing color.

“We have to find Ninavis!” I shouted.

“Her leg’s still broken,” Brother Qown responded. “I told her to stay in her room and rest.”

“I doubt she listened,” Arasgon said as he pointed his nose across the courtyard. “Someone had to start the fires.”

Across the way, I saw someone in a hooded sallí cloak leading another person with a limp up a staircase from the basement. I couldn’t see their faces, but I recognized Dorna’s second-best riding skirt.

“Ninavis!” I yelled out. “Ninavis, wait!”

The second person looked up.

Ninavis hesitated. Kalazan stiffened, with his arm still around her. I suspected both were thinking about how much simpler their lives might be if they just ran. Of course, they didn’t yet know about the blue smoke. They didn’t understand what horror had just overtaken Barsine Banner. They didn’t understand that all that lay between their freedom and an ugly death was a foreign Blood of Joras they barely knew.

Ninavis pulled back her hood. “Do you have my people?”

Kalazan asked at the same moment, “What happened to Baron Tamin? Did you kill him?”