“You get used to it,” Marcus said, already headed for the stairs. He pounded down several circular flights to find Raesinia restrained by two sheepish but firm Mierantai guards. Feor hovered anxiously on the other side of the door to the rest of the house.

“What’s going on?” Marcus said.

“Someone’s coming.” Raesinia tapped her head. “Like that night.”

“An abh-naathem,” Feor said, her gray skin very pale. “Not far away.”

“Oh, Balls of the fucking Beast,” Marcus swore.

“What?” said Giforte, descending at a slightly less precipitous rate.

“They’ve found us,” Marcus said. “Maybe they followed me here after all.”

Giforte looked at the two Mierantai. “Go find Goffa and Ithan. Tell them to get everyone inside and prepared to defend the house. Now!”

“Sir!” The two men sprang away from Raesinia, saluted, and ran off. Giforte cupped his hands and shouted up to the top of the tower.

“White! We’re moving you out now! Grab your gear and move. We’ll burn the rest!”

The clatter coming down from the solar increased in tempo. Feor, having stepped out of the path of the hurrying guards, pressed forward again.

“We must defend the Names,” she said. “If they fall into the hands of the abh-naathem—”

“We’ll do our best,” Giforte said. “It depends how many men they’ve brought. If they don’t know what we’ve got here, it may take them a while to organize a real force, and we’ll have time to ship everything out. Otherwise . . .”

“We cannot leave the archive behind!”

“Unless you’ve got a way to carry a ton of steel on your back, we may not have a choice. Like I said, we’ll do what we can.” Giforte paused. “Do you have any idea what this . . . abh-naathem can do?”

Feor shook her head, looking nearly in tears. “I do not.”

“Can you or your students do anything?”

“No.” Feor’s voice was small. “My own power . . . no. Auriana, perhaps, but it would be very dangerous to her—”

“More or less dangerous than being shot?” Giforte shook his head, and his voice softened. “Sorry. Please, do whatever you can.”

“Marcus.” Raesinia beckoned him over and spoke quietly. “If it’s Patriot Guard out there, and not just Penitent Damned, I could try talking to them. They might not be willing to shoot the queen.”

“Assuming they believe you’re the queen,” Marcus said, indicating Raesinia’s not terribly queenly attire. “In any case, I’m sure they’d be willing to haul you back to the Hotel Ancerre. Try it if we’ve got nothing else left, but . . .”

“What if it’s that woman from the warehouse out there?”

Marcus looked at the hurrying Mierantai, all carrying their deadly long rifles. “Then we’re going to find out how many shots she can stop at once.”