And he was using that stature to keep the House of Talents focused on creating the structures they’d need to recruit and train Sharona’s Talented citizens to assist with the war. Whether at home or at the battlefront, Talents would be essential to Sharona’s war effort, indeed, to Sharona’s survival. Darcel Kinlafia understood that. It was a great relief to have him in the House of Talents, advocating and browbeating and persuading his fellow Talents to do the hard work necessary to prepare Sharona’s Talented citizens for war.
Servants wended their way through the crowd, carrying trays of beverages and sweets. One of those servants caught his attention. The young woman was familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place her. A frown touched his mouth as he tried to recall who she was-
And the Glimpse struck.
He staggered, nearly collapsing under the shock. Fire! There was fire everywhere. A blazing inferno blowing the room behind him to hell. His whole body was engulfed in flame and there was no time, it was right on top of them…
“VARENA!”
His wife jerked around as he began to run.
“Zindel-?”
“The girls! Get the girls!”
His wife blanched and whirled. Armsmen were running toward her. Razial was beside her mother. But he couldn’t see Anbessa.
“Telfor!”
Telfor chan Garatz, Chief of Imperial Security, had already scooped Razial out of her chair. He jerked around at Zindel’s shout.
“Get my family off this balcony! Not through the room!”
“Yes, Sire!”
Chan Garatz was already moving…moving so quickly he didn’t notice that the emperor was headed the opposite direction.
Headed directly into the room he’d ordered his armsmen to avoid.
“’Bessa!” Zindel chan Calirath thundered, his mind full of fire and blast, his body already screaming protest of the agony he knew was to come. He should have been paralyzed, should have been lost in the crushing power of his Death Glimpse, but his Talent had always been powerful. Now, like his son at Fort Salby, he was in fugue state. He Saw the world about him, Saw the future, Saw the agony, Saw his daughter’s death, Saw his own, Saw the slim possibility that Anbessa might live, and he threaded the needle between those futures-all of them potential; each of them in that moment as real as any other-and raced towards her.
“Daddy?” she looked up at the sound of his voice, and even in fugue state, his heart spasmed with terror.
She was standing in front of a tray of chocolates. In the room. Oh, gods…
“’Bessa! Run!” he shouted. “Get to the balcony! Now!”
She dropped the candy and ran towards him, but his own armsmen had realized which way he was headed. Two of them hurled themselves at him, desperate to tackle him and drag him bodily to safety, but he was in fugue state. He Saw them coming, knew exactly where they’d be, where their hands would be, and he went through them like smoke, smelling the fire, racing to embrace it. He was at the door, through the door, and Anbessa was six feet from him and running hard when he saw the terrible flash of light. It started at the back of the room. The table of candies exploded. The whole back of the room exploded.
The blast cracked open the room’s gas lines and the entire enormous salon ignited. The guards who’d tried to stop him vanished into a boiling inferno, flame belched through the room, and Anbessa was still three steps away. The blast front roared over him, and he reached into it, closed his hand around her outstretched fingers. Heat crisped all around them, and Zindel chan Calirath pulled with all his massive, bull-shouldered strength, all the desperate power of a father who would not lose another child. He spun, his baby girl somehow in his arms, and hurled his daughter through the air, threw her violently forward, a living javelin.
The second explosion blew out the doors.
And part of the wall. It picked him up, hurled him back toward the balcony like a toy, swept everything off the balcony. It blew out the stone railing and hurled all of them out and down in a blazing ruin of flame.
* * *
Andrin gripped the ship’s railing. The Glimpse struck her like a club and she fought to see details. It was like seeing two different events through one set of eyes. She saw the Grand Palace, cracked open, fiercely ablaze. Papa! she screamed in silent horror, watching the flames engulf her father, watching the explosion sweep him off the broken balcony like a shattered doll. But there was fire all around her, as well, fire above her, fire and black water, deep and terrible and her lungs were bursting, but she couldn’t breathe for the flames and terrible black water that was dragging her down while hell blew up around her-
“Get off the ship!” she croaked.
“What?” Howan Fai asked, staring at her.
“Off the ship! A Glimpse-just now-I was in the water. There was fire everywhere, all around, I couldn’t breathe, oh, God-”
She saw two things simultaneously.
Men in black, form-fitting clothing. They charged across the deck, converging on her. And a massive explosion behind them. An explosion that sent fire belching into the night from the heart of Tajvana. The Grand Palace had blown open. Fire belched out of it.
“PAPA!” she screamed.
Gunfire erupted-
— and she plunged over the rail. Was shoved over the rail. Finena launched from her wrist. The falcon screamed. Andrin screamed as she fell. As she plunged down the long, long hull. Toward the cold, black water of the sea.
And then the vicious shock of impact smashed through her.
The water was hard as stone. She’d turned instinctively to protect her belly and her side struck brutally. The cold shocked her whole body, and then she was under the water, down in the terrible black depths. Her gown was pulling her even deeper and she fought its weight. Ripped at the buttons, the seams. She couldn’t fight free of it. Her lungs were bursting. Panic throbbed through her. Gripped her throat. Stabbed through her, knife-sharp with every pulse of her wildly racing heart.
Someone had her wrist. She flailed wildly. Hands pulled her from behind. Then the heavy weight of her gown ripped away. She felt suddenly light as goose down and she kicked frantically. Swam madly up-hoped she was swimming up, not deeper into the endless black water. She was suddenly propelled upwards by the strong grip of whoever had torn off her heavy dress. Her lungs were on fire. She couldn’t stand it. Had to gulp now-
Her head broke water.
She sucked down air-huge, shuddering lungfuls of it-and Howan Fai was beside her, face lit by the exploding fireworks overhead as they were jostled in the wake of the passing ships. Her yacht was already fifty yards ahead of them and pulling away steadily as the wind in her sails and the current in the straits carried her forward. The first destroyer was even farther away, out in the main channel; she couldn’t even spot the other one in the dark waters, but she could breathe-she could breathe! — and Howan Fai was with her. They hadn’t-
A sparkle of light erupted on Peregrine’s decks. Gunfire! Those men in black swarmed across the yacht. Fighting Andrin’s armsmen. Fighting Imperial Security. Fighting the Marines her father had stationed aboard. Andrin drew breath to cry out for help-
Peregrine exploded.