Sothe nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” She looked down at him, for once meeting his eyes. Marcus wasn’t sure what it was he was seeing in her impassive face. Resignation? Regret? “If I don’t make it, Raesinia is your responsibility.”

“I—”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Sothe vaulted the shattered window frame, cartwheeled, and came up with a knife in hand, whipping it into the heart of the bonfire. The fire spiraled inward, like a closing flower, all the tendrils feeding a ball of blue-white heat that screamed like a kettle about to burst. Something flashed at the center of it, and Marcus saw that at least part of the knife had struck home, leaving a long cut across the old woman’s withered cheek.

The single point of fire burst apart, a hundred bolts of flame lashing the ground where Sothe had been standing. She was already on the move, running a zigzag pattern across the packed, bloody earth of the square, one step ahead of the fire that left smoking craters in her wake.

I can’t just watch this. Sothe was fast, but she’d slip eventually. Marcus searched among the bodies lying where Leatherbacks and seedies had met until he found one that wore a grenadiers’ brown satchel. He gauged the distance, tensed, and hurled himself back through the broken window just as Sothe let another knife fly. This time, the ball of flame formed farther from the Penitent Damned, and molten, broken fragments of blade flew apart in all direction, like tiny shooting stars. Whips of flame lashed out at Sothe, a blazing squid trying to swat an elusive fly.

Marcus reached the dead grenadier and rolled her over, pulling two battered tin spheres out of the brown satchel. He left one on the ground and hefted the other, winding up and putting all his weight into the throw to reach the old woman where she floated in the heart of the bonfire. It flew a bit wide, but a bolt of flame lashed out at it in what seemed like an automatic reaction, and the blast of the powder blew chunks of liquid fire across the square. The other tendrils paused in the pursuit of Sothe long enough for the assassin to throw a pair of knives at once, which caused the bonfire itself to dim as the flame gathered into a single ball big enough to intercept both.