He got a brief view of the musketeers, their weapons expended, rolling out of the way as the carriage clattered past. Then they were through, accelerating down the street into the darkness. More musketry thundered from behind them as the startled men at the end of the driveway recovered their wits, but though Marcus could hear the zip of the balls, none of the shots came close.

“Everyone okay?” Marcus said. “Turn right at Saint Uriah—right—”

The intersection passed in a blur. The team, at a full gallop now, strained at the traces, pulling the carriage at an impressive speed. Every rut and bump in the road was magnified, and Marcus’ next attempt to speak nearly cost him his tongue as his teeth came together hard.

“I’m hit,” Uhlan said in a strained tone. “And I believe Delcot is dead.”

Marcus tossed his useless pistol aside and swung himself to grab the edge of the box, until he could look over Uhlan’s shoulder. The Mierantai lieutenant had one hand pressed to his thigh, where a dark stain was rapidly spreading. Beside him, the driver had slumped back and let the reins fall. A musket ball had made a ruin of this throat, coating the front of his shirt in gore.

“Shit,” Marcus said. He tightened his grip and tried to gauge his chances if he let go of the door handle and swung up onto the box. If I time it just right, I am definitely going to fall off and get crushed. “Raes! Can you get to the reins?”

“I can try!” Raesinia’s head appeared at the edge of the roof and she appraised the situation. “Oh damn.”

“Hurry, please.”

Second Avenue was a relatively straight run between Saint Uriah Street and the Dregs. They’d covered nearly half that distance already, though, and when they reached the Dregs, which ran along the front of the University, they would be presented with a sharp turn in either direction and nothing straight ahead but buildings. The horses might see the danger, but without the brakes the carriage would simply run them over.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Raesinia repeated, like a mantra, as she pulled herself forward to the edge of the roof. Most of the street was dark, but even the war could not completely quash the nightlife of the Dregs, and the line of lamps that marked the end of the street was getting closer fast. “Sorry about this.”

She put a hand on the dead driver’s shoulder and gave him a shove. His limp body slid sideways, then tumbled from the box, and the carriage gave an almighty lurch as the wheels went over him. Marcus nearly lost his footing and clung to the strap for dear life. He heard a heavy thump as Raesinia slammed against the roof.

“Raes?”

“Still here!” She spit blood onto the box. “Somehow. One moment . . .”