Fire Dancer. Where had he come from? Calling the river? What did that mean?

The wall of wizard flame surrounding Han Alister hissed and complained, resisting the assault of the water. Steam rose to the roof, collecting there.

Raisa splashed forward, ignoring Nightwalker’s shouted warnings. The water was at her waist now, roaring into the crypts, sweeping candlesticks off the altar. Sweeping flames away.

But when Raisa reached the pillar where Mellony had been bound, water rippled around it. Micah Bayar’s sleek black head broke through the surface. He looked around, flinging water, then dove under again.

The flames were finally out, but Han Alister was nowhere to be seen.

Raisa walked around the pillar in ever-widening circles, diving repeatedly under the water, searching with her hands. Micah stayed under as long as he could, and gasped for breath each time he surfaced.

Both Nightwalker and Amon were there, then. “Your Majesty,” Amon said. “Raisa. The water is rising. You need to get to higher ground.”

“Han is here somewhere. I’m not leaving without finding him.”

“Han!” Amon frowned. “But I thought you said that Alister was—”

“Maybe he’s already left,” Nightwalker interrupted. Raisa shook her head. “No. He’s here. I know he’s here.”

Just then her questing foot encountered something more yielding than stone. A body.

“Help me,” she said breathlessly, and dove, taking fistfuls of fabric and lifting, pushing off with her feet. The charred, sodden fabric came away in her hands. She dove again, sliding her hands underneath the body. Desperation lent her strength, and this time she pushed the limp deadweight up until it broke the water’s surface.

Amon and Micah each took one of Han’s arms, helping Raisa lift his head and shoulders free of the water. His eyes were closed, the lids bluish against his pale face, splotched with bruises, his hair plastered strawlike against his head. Raisa tilted Han’s head forward so water ran out of his mouth. “He’s not breathing,” she said in a panic.

Cat and Dancer wrestled Han up and onto the altar, out of the water. Coming at him from behind, Dancer wrapped his arms around Han’s middle and squeezed. Water poured out of Han’s mouth, and he coughed weakly. Then spewed a string of vile curses and tried to struggle free.

Raisa shivered, giddy with relief. She grabbed Han’s hands and held them tightly, as if he might get away. The burn of magic was faint, but it was there. She threaded his hand under his coat so he could reach his amulet. His fingers closed tightly around it, and it brightened in response to his touch.

“The water should be receding,” Dancer said. “I sent the river back.”

Amon nodded. “Thanks to Fire Dancer, what remains of the Ardenine Army is in disarray. Much of their siege equipment has been washed away. The stripers have all but disappeared.”