“Vara!” he lamented in Usti, jilted. “What—” Then his eyes dragged to the other end of the ballroom, and he bolted like the rest of them.
A man in a double-breasted burgundy coat strode through the far door and a veil of drifting gun smoke. Rank upon rank of armed women and men came after him, though ‘armed’ was perhaps an understatement. They bristled with weapons, each in differing combination—braces of pistols, various swords, firearms, hatchets and machetes. They wore no uniforms, preferring eclectic collections of clothing from every corner of the world. I saw frock coats and kaftans, sashes and fitted breeches, their only unifying feature being functionality. Every one of them looked ready, able, and hungry for a fight.
Brigands? Certainly. Pirates? Perhaps.
I primed my pistol, movements quick and distracted. I still could not see Slader. And Mary—Saint, she and Demery and Grant had barely been ahead of us. They had to be in the crowd, but no matter how frantically I searched, I could not find them. And was Benedict still here?
The Other whispered to me, too close and too willing to help me find both the Stormsinger and my brother. But I did not dare step over the border now.
Howls and yips broke out as the newcomers—the pirates—broke rank and charged across the room. Some ran at the crowd directly, driving them back into the walls like dogs herding sheep. Guests screamed and wailed. A man hit the floor—fainted—and several women shrieked at one another as they fought to escape out a side door. Their shrieks turned to screams as more guests piled into them, overturning side tables and crushing the women into the gilt, mint and rose wallpaper.
“Enough!” An Usti soldier stepped forward. She was dressed like the guards who had escorted the queen, marking her out from the common soldiers who formed up behind her with leveled bayonets. Other soldiers waded through the crowds towards the side doors, battling to take control of the exits.
By some unspoken command, pirates grabbed guests. A new chorus of screams and wails ricocheted around the room as guests were thrust to their knees at the point of pistol and cutlass. Other pirates continued to move, their gaits turning predatory and calculated, expressions leering and shrewd.
They had a plan, and from their ease, all was proceeding exactly as they intended.
“I’m here for one woman and one man,” the pirates’ commander said. His voice seeped into me, and at the back of my mind, my curse suddenly roared.
Lirr. Silvanus Lirr was here, in the Usti palace, looking for Mary Firth.
“Aeadines. Foreigners. No one will be harmed if you stay calm and let me take them.” Lirr spoke Usti with a gentle accent, like honey. His gaze slid around the room, and transitioned into Aeadine. “James. Mary. Come out before you get someone killed.”
The hall choked into silence, every guest holding their breath and looking between one another.
“Leave, now,” the queen’s guard called. “This room will be surrounded in moments and you will be slaughtered.”
Lirr glanced at her, then looked back to the crowd. “Demery!”
Slader rose from behind a toppled table, put a commandeered musket to his shoulder, and fired.
Lirr took half a step back, looking down at the bicep of his left arm. The fabric was dark and I was too far away to see how badly he’d been hit, but he shook scarlet droplets from his fingers. They fell on the glistening pale marble at his feet, bright and ominous.
I had to back up Slader. I moved on instinct, stepping out from behind the pillar. In the same movement, two of the closest pirates to Slader whipped their weapons away from the heads of their captives and fired. Both shots missed—pistols, near useless at range—but a statue near Slader exploded in a cloud of dust.
The other bullet found flesh. An older Usti man on the edge of the crowd sank to the floor with a startled, frightened exclamation.
The Usti soldiers charged the pirates. They did not dare shoot, fearing to wound more civilians, but I glimpsed flashing bayonets and swords as I sprinted across the ballroom. I darted through combatants and prone guests, pistol raised, and sighted my first target—a pirate with a saber in hand, heading for Slader.
I shot her in the chest and smashed the spent pistol into her face. She went down and I stole her sword, shoving my bloodied pistol back into my coat.
I started to move again, slashing and shouldering pirates out of the way. I saw the queen’s guard off to my right, a blur of sword and dagger as she dispatched pirates and shoved guests towards safety. The pirates scattered away from the pair of us, granting me a second of reprieve.
I was just in time to see a hatchet bury itself in Slader’s head. I shouted, horror and shock blurring everything except the sight of my captain crumpling beneath the rush of guests.
A cutlass stabbed at my side. My dreamer’s sense foresaw it and I stepped aside without thought, parrying the blade wide, seizing my assailant’s wrist and twisting my sword into his stomach. He dropped and I turned, staring again at the place Slader had been.
My breath came in short, shuddering gasps. Surely, I had seen wrong. Surely, my captain was still alive, still—
The Other rushed at me. I battled against it, fighting to remain in my own body, but shock set me adrift.
Lights flickered to life. I saw Lirr standing before me, but instead of the earthy, forest green light of a Sooth like myself, I glimpsed something opalescent, churning with every shade of green and red. It fluttered, smoke in the wind, and vacillated into a pale silver.
I had never seen anything like it. It was widely known that Lirr was a mage of multiple affinities, but this? This was beyond my knowledge.
Passages from the Mereish book of ghistlore flitted through my mind, mentions of mages and Adjacents, categories of sorcery I had never been taught. Was this what I was seeing now?
Lirr did not look at me. Instead, we both turned as Mary’s light flickered into sight beyond the side door, the one where Usti soldiers were funneling guests out of danger.
Back in the physical world, something struck me. Pain jerked me back into my bones and I found myself on the floor, ribs screaming, a cudgel coming down at my head.
I kicked out, shattering the knee of my assailant, and staggered upright.
The pirates had begun to flee, snatching jewelry and candlesticks and handfuls of food as they rushed back through the yawning ballroom doors. Lirr was in their midst, pulling his people along in a wordless tide of magic. They left bodies behind, twisted corpses and bloody footprints. I saw one brigand slide through a pool of scarlet, laughing like a child on the ice, and flounce after her companions.
I picked myself up, found my balance, and charged after them.
THIRTY-TWO
Shelter
MARY
Demery led me through the shrieking guests and into a curtained alcove. The inebriated Grant carried on a few steps then hastened back to us, gritting his teeth and blinking to clear his head.
“Change of strategy,” Demery said, untangling the gold-braided rope that held the curtain back. It opened with a heavy, rippling whump, leaving us with only a slice of light from the hallway. “Mary, stay here. Mr. Grant? You’re with me.”
“Stay here?” I protested. I leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Demery’s expression as he glanced back into the hallway. The golden rope that had held the curtain dangled at his side, fastened to a heavy bronze ring. “I’m not staying here, not with Lirr so close. You said he wouldn’t even dock in Hesten!”