The paper cone came off about ten yards up, spiraling down onto the road. Unbalanced, the firework wobbled and flew in an erratic arc.

Then it exploded. There was a boom, a little too soft, and while the burst flared, it was only half of what it should have been. The cylinder must have lost powder along the way.

My heart sank. I had only one more chance. I double-wrapped this firework, using the Templars’ final letter, and smeared all the gum I had on the cone until it wouldn’t come off in my fingers. I smeared aloe on my hand, too, berating myself for not thinking of doing that the first time, to shield me from the burning powder.

A shot flew over the road. I ignored it. I held my pistol straight up, away from my face, and lit the fuse.

It flew. My firework rocketed away, burning so furiously that I was shocked. Until I remembered with joy that—just as an experiment, of course, and while Tom’s back had been turned—I’d double-loaded a couple of the fireworks.

This one performed flawlessly. It flew so high that the flame out the back looked little more than a candle.

Then it exploded.

The BOOM echoed in my ears. Streams of silver light burst outward, a glorious display that lit up the night. I wondered what the Covenanter out there was thinking. I hoped it was nothing good, and wished him every evil in the world.

A cry came from up the road. “Christopher!”

“Tom!” I stared in horror at the lantern, rocking up and down in the distance as Tom approached, astride Lightning at full gallop. “Get down! Someone’s out there!”

“What?”

He couldn’t hear me over his horse. Desperately, I dumped powder into the frizzen of my pistol, the wood scorched and smoking, and stuck my head up over the ditch, aiming into the meadow.

The firework had lit the whole area like a flare. I saw a glint of metal where I’d seen the shooter earlier. His musket!

I nearly fired; I stopped my finger from pulling the trigger just in time. The musket was on the ground. The shooter had left it behind when he fled.

My fireworks had chased him away.

Tom slowed, pulling on the reins until Lightning came to a snorting stop, stamping his feet as he eyed the rope-snake in the road.

Tom looked horrified as, muddy and bleeding, I climbed from the ditch. “What happened?” he said.

“They set a trap,” I said. “Blossom hit the rope—she fell.…”

Tom looked around, still confused, but there wasn’t much to see anymore. My firework had burned out. The only light now came from Tom’s lantern, my fallen torch, and the stars.

“Where is Blossom?”

I’d have liked to find her, see she was all right, but there was no time. We had to get to the king.

I found my other pistol; it was near where I’d first hit the ground. I stuffed it in my belt. Then I climbed up on Lightning, behind Tom. He kicked his heels, and we were off.