Tamas’s sword entered the Kez soldier’s throat from the side, right between his esophagus and his spine. The man dropped without even a gurgling protest. Tamas felt his legs pump hard, the pain to his right barely registering as he crossed the street in a dozen long strides.
One of the soldiers turned toward him. Tamas slashed his sword upward, cutting through the front of the man’s face, then followed through by plunging his sword into the ribs of the next soldier.
They all knew he was here now. Panicked shouting rose in the street.
The world seemed to move at a snail’s pace. Tamas sensed a spark hit the powder pan of a pistol, traveling toward the barrel. In the instant before the weapon fired, Tamas reached out and absorbed the energy of the blast, throwing it behind the swipe of his sword as it took a man’s head clear off.
A soldier – a woman – drew her sword, only to fall from a bullet in the eye. Tamas’s mind barely registered Vlora’s help as he switched to the next target. A man with a captain’s silver collar dashed up the street toward Tamas, his small sword at the ready.
Tamas threw himself forward, breaking inside the man’s guard in two quick strokes and disemboweling him. Tamas spun for the next Kez soldier and…
None were left. The street was clear. The only sounds were the moaning of the wounded and dying, and Tamas’s own panting. He felt his heart hammer at the inside of his chest. He cracked a powder charge and sprinkled it on his tongue. The hammering began to subside.
The Deliv were still retreating up the street. One even turned toward Tamas, pistol raised, and fired. Tamas felt his heart skip a beat as the bullet ricocheted off the street not far from his feet. The Deliv swore loudly enough to be heard across fifty paces and dropped his pistol. He grabbed one of the other Deliv by the shoulder and pointed toward Tamas.
The small group came to a stop. They all stared toward Tamas as he stood among the Kez bodies.
Tamas looked over the group. How well could they see him in the dark?
Regardless, he didn’t have time for this. He had a mission to finish. Halley’s manor was just down the street. Unfortunately, the Deliv group was in between him and Hailona’s manor.
He looked across the street. The shadow of Vlora’s head was just visible at the top of the wall. He reassessed the height.
Tamas broke out in a run across the street. One of the Deliv shouted for him to stop.
His foot hit the wall about two feet up. His boot caught just enough friction to send him up, and he pushed off with all his strength. He grabbed the top of the wall, felt Vlora’s hand grasp his arm, and then he pulled himself up and rolled over, falling with a thump to the garden below.
Tamas rolled over onto his back, hoping he hadn’t just cracked a rib in his fall. He took a deep breath. He felt some pain, but not too much.
“You all right?” Vlora asked, crouching beside him.
“Getting too damn old for fights like that.” He climbed to his feet and ran his fingers along the hilt of his small sword. “But that felt good. Very good. I needed a fight like that.” He paused, saw that Vlora was looking at him strangely. “What?”
“Now I know where Taniel gets it,” she said. After a few seconds, she added, “You’re the only other one I’ve seen move as fast as him. None of the other powder mages can do it. We’re all stronger and faster than regular men, but you and Taniel… damn.”
Tamas’s heart hammered in his chest, too hard. He wasn’t just getting old. He was old.
They headed across the garden and crossed the wall again a hundred yards later. The group of Deliv was still in the street, now behind Tamas, and were checking the dead and finishing off the wounded Kez soldiers. Tamas and Vlora crossed the street farther down, unnoticed.
They kept on down the same street and turned two corners before they reached Hailona’s city manor.
It was a grand affair with a short gravel drive, manicured lawn, and a brick façade with evenly spaced windows. The roof was tall and steeply slanted and must have had over a dozen chimneys.
The windows of the manor were dark, the driveway lanterns unlit. Tamas ran across the lawn and around the back of the house. He passed by the servants’ quarters, where there would likely be someone still up, and found the observatory porch.
The observatory had belonged to Hailona’s husband before he died twenty years ago. The last time Tamas had been here it was Hailona’s study. He paused at the glass door to the observatory as a thought occurred to him.
He didn’t even know if she still lived here.
Tamas sought to recall if Sabon had ever mentioned Hailona selling her city manor. Not likely. He was usually taciturn when it came to the subject of his sister.
It was better that way.
Tamas forced the door with his shoulder, wincing when it made a loud noise. He paused, listening for the sound of footsteps or of a servant sounding the alarm.
Nothing.
He stepped inside. Vlora followed after him a moment later.
The study was different from the last time he’d been here. No telescope. A different desk. Where it had been, a large globe of the world rested on a stand in the corner.
Tamas felt the creeping fingers of panic in his bowels. What if she wasn’t here? She was his only link in this city. How would he find Gavril?
“This,” Tamas whispered, “might not be her home.”
Vlora touched his arm. “Is that her?”
There was a portrait above the mantel. It was a Deliv man that Tamas didn’t recognize. He wore a military uniform, and his head was shaved bald. Behind him stood Hailona.
Tamas let out a soft sigh of relief. This was the right place after all.
“I’ll have to go wake her up,” Tamas said. He wasn’t looking forward to this part. A gross invasion, entering her bedchamber at this time of night was not the best way to reignite a long-forgotten acquaintance.
Especially if she’d remarried.
Vlora hissed at him. She stood beside the window, her fingers on the curtain.
He went to her side. There were people outside, coming straight for the observatory portico. Tamas blinked. It was the same group he’d saved from the Kez soldiers. Was her husband among them?
“Hide!”
Tamas made for the closest door, sliding inside and closing it all the way but for the slightest crack. He checked his surroundings. A closet, albeit a big one. Vlora barely moved, electing to slide behind a thick curtain. Tamas swore quietly. Neither of them could extricate themselves without alerting the occupants of the room.
Tamas watched the room through a crack in the door. He could hear hushed voices outside, but not make out what they were saying. The glass door opened and the group filed in.
Most seemed wounded in some way. Two of them had to be carried. Tamas could smell the gunpowder and blood – but then again, that may have just been him.
“Get us some lights,” a woman’s voice said. “Ruper, take them to the sitting room. Fetch towels. Get a fire going. We need hot water.”
Tamas recognized that voice. Even after fifteen years he recognized the voice, and it surprised him.
Hailona.
Doors opened and shut, feet pounded frantically into the rest of the manor house. There was grunting and cursing as the wounded were carried to another room.
A male voice spoke up as someone fumbled around in the dark. “They’ll come for us.”
“I know,” Hailona said. She sounded miserable.
A lantern was lit, casting the room into light and shadow. Tamas blinked his eyes to let them adjust. Through the crack in the door he could see a Deliv with a black braided ponytail over one shoulder. The man suddenly swept his arm across a desk, throwing parchments, weights, and a small stack of coins to the floor.
“Someone must have sold us out!” he said. “I’ll find them, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”