Gilded Latten Bones

90

Strafa rode her broomstick out the window.

I hustled downstairs. A grim Singe told me, "We won't last long if they try to starve us out."

"We won't be here. Strafa will fly us out, me first, then Morley, then you, and Dean."

The more I reflected, though, the less likely it seemed that those men could sustain a long siege. What they were doing was illegal.

Legality aside, those clowns might leave once they saw us fly away.

Which made me wonder how serious they were. If they broke out the longbows and started sniping. .

That would make me unhappy.

Singe said, "I know your mind doesn't work that way, but why not just flit over to the Al-Khar and let them know what is going on?"

"Clearing them off could get ugly."

"I'm just a simpleminded ratgirl. I cannot grasp the political ramifications. But I cannot believe that anyone would start a civil war just to keep embarrassing sorcery hidden."

I had begun to wonder how committed Block and Relway were to the rule of law. Would they go to war on its behalf? Against the Crown?

I hoped they never found themselves forced to decide.

"I'll be upstairs. Have Morley get up there as soon as he can."

Morley clumped into my bedroom. He looked grim. "Garrett, I'm not quite ready to go on the warpath. Just getting up here kicked my butt." He joined me at the window. "What's up?"

"She's putting the girl magic on those guys."

"The what?"

"I call it girl magic. Remember when she came into the World the first time, back in the day? She's doing that, only at full power."

Thank the gods she turned it off before she came back. She told me, "I'm ready. But where should we go?"

"Let's catch Belinda. She doesn't have a huge head start." I leaned out the window, lifted a leg to start working my way through. There was no way Strafa and I would fit at the same time. That big-ass broomstick took up too much territory.

The roof of the stoop was four feet down. I hoped it was in good repair. The pitch was steep enough that loose slates might go slip-sliding away, taking my favorite former Marine along.

I completed my part without disaster, though that might yet come. The Palace Guards had their brains scrambled but they noticed me anyway. Some still had a vague notion that they might ought to commence to begin to fix to get ready to keep people from getting away.

They knew I was a runner when Strafa darted out and had me drag my dead ass onto the broomstick behind her.

She began to climb, not nearly as fast as I liked. Several of those guys were immune to girl magic. Sling bullets burred around us.

The sergeant major roared like a bear who'd broken a tooth while gnoshing on somebody's skull. I made out no distinct words but in all the history of the universe sergeants major never have been required to be coherent to be understood. This one did not want to have to answer questions about why a Windwalker, from the rarified air on the Hill, had been struck out of the sky by men in full uniform, fully armed, operating illegally miles from the venue they were supposed to protect. Only in the King's own presence were they allowed to take their show on the road.

That gave me a killer idea. I'd have to try it out on Jon Salvation.

Disguised thugs from the Hill helped the sergeant major make his point. Masquerading, they would not enjoy the legal umbrella protecting the real Guards. Guardsmen had to take orders. Their superiors had to worry about legalities.

Strafa said, "Hang on tight."

"You're preaching to the choir, sweetness. Go high." I had flown before, during other adventures. I never liked it. "Head north along Wizard's Reach."

Belinda could follow that only so far, though. The street dropped down, crossed Deer Creek, climbed again but dead-ended at Handycot Way, which marked the southern boundary of Woodland Park, from which every scrap of wood had been stolen.

Strafa said, "It would be a huge help if. . That looks like her over there, almost to Grand."

Who else would be out with so large a convoy?

Strafa's eyes were better than mine in these circumstances. She had been flying since she was little. I bet they worked her half to death doing recon in the Cantard.

Say that for her class. They all did their time in the war zone, boys, girls, and everything in between. Most did multiple tours. Strafa's father had.

We tilted downward and streaked toward the coach. I shut my eyes. The roar of air passing made it hard to talk.

Strafa ended up floating alongside the coach. That caused enough excitement for Belinda to look see what was happening. I told Strafa, "Keep an eye on the guy beside the driver." Joel looked like he was tempted to do something that I would regret.