of confusion while they swept about and followed him in a clatter on the
pavings. The burning barricade was ahead, a sleet of stones. An uneven pair of
figures blocked his path, dark against the light-
Strat swept his sword in an arc that ended in the skull of the taller and took a
good part of it away: he rode through. The rider behind him faltered as his
horse hit the bodies and recovered; then the rest of the troop went over them,
crushing bone under steel-shod hooves, and swords swung as they met Jubal’s men
at the barricade, on their way back through.
There was a decided interest on the childrens’ part. One boy kept climbing up to
the window and gazing out, less talkative than his wont. The other never left
it, and stared when Niko came and took both in his arms.
He saw the circling of something sorcerous that could not get in. Saw something
dark stream up to fight it off, and that something was torn ragged and streamed
on the winds. But what it had turned was dimmer fire now. He heard a forlorn
cry, like a great hunting bird. Like a damned soul. A lost lover.
The wards about the place glowed blinding bright. And held.
Sanctuary was beset with fires, barricades, looting. The armed priests of the
Storm God were no inconsiderable barrier themselves.
But they were ineffectual finally against a torn, bloody thing that haunted the
halls and that tried the partnership that had been between them. He knew what
had come streaking in to find him; he knew what faithful, vengeful wraith had
held the line again. It pleaded with him in his dreams, forgetting that it was