“Dancer,” Han whispered, a lifetime of memories spiraling through his mind, ending in this terrible place. He charged toward Dancer even though he knew it was too late. It was no use. Nobody could survive a hit like that.

“Come back, Alister,” Bayar called after him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Han dove away, rolling behind a stone pillar as Bayar’s torrents of flame quested after him. He covered his head with his arms as the pillar exploded into rubble. There was no way to reach his friend—whatever was left of him.

A cold rage seized Han. Fine, he thought. Bring what you have, Bayar. When you catch up with me, you’ll be sorry.

Han staggered down the passageway, knowing his enemy would follow, and knowing just where they needed to go. A requiem sounded in his head for all the lives lost—from Mam and Mari to Flinn and the other Raggers who’d died, and now Dancer and the mysterious archer. He no longer felt the pain in his wrists, no longer cared about the armory or anything else. Somehow, he’d always known that it would end in a street fight—and that was a game he could play and win.

C H A P T E R  F O R T Y - T H R E E

STANDOFF

Raisa sat back on her heels and rubbed her aching knees. When she’d come to temple, the last shafts of sunlight were bloodying the spires of the surrounding city, sliding under a layer of glowering clouds. Now the sun had set, and thunder grumbled over Hanalea, threatening rain for the third night in a row.

With a sigh, she shed her heavy temple robe, dropping it onto a book stand. She came often to the small temple in the conservatory. Ghosts dogged her in the garden, but memories soothed her at the same time. It was no use trying to pray, though. She couldn’t concentrate, with her mind paging through her latest assortment of worries.

How long before they poison the river? she wondered. Right now, Arden’s soldiers were drinking out of it themselves, but they could always go farther afield for water if need be. Those bottled up in the castle could not. In anticipation of that move, she’d ordered huge cisterns filled with water, and required that the water be tested each day.

Why haven’t their mages attacked the walls? she asked herself. Micah’s barriers might offer some protection, but she’d thought they’d have tried breaching the walls by now.

She refused to meet with Marin Karn, Montaigne’s commander in the field. She saw no good that could come of it, and she didn’t want to provide Lord Hakkam and the others an opportunity to dither and debate, demonstrating how splintered they were.