The Phoenix Thief

TWENTY EIGHT

CATRIO RAN TO the door in the wall, and Kilter followed before the Watchmen could collect themselves. Shouting filled the open air outside, and when Kilter looked over Catrío's shoulder at the snowy quarry side below, he saw a smoking black gash like an open wound in the rock. The red of Shev's sprawled body and cloak were as sharp against it. He almost didn't see the Chancellor. There wasn't much of him left to see.

"Shev!" Both Nátala and Catrío were calling out his name, and then Nátala climbed through the door to begin staggering down the path.

Kilter would have followed with Catrío, but at that instant they were both wrenched backward.

"Out of my way!" Fástnik shoved them behind him and leapt through the door. "Secure the Reavers, men!"

The order threw the Squad Watchmen into action like the pulling of a trigger. They pounced on Vittela as she crouched in front of Pierstov, whose wounded leg had begun bleeding again. But when those nearest Kilter whirled on him, he grabbed Catrío's wrist and pulled her after him through the door. There was nowhere to run, though. Fástnik had caught up with Nátala only a few strides ahead, and now he had her by the wrists, wrenching at her like the Watchmen did at the bridles of frightened horses.

"Stand down, girl!" Fástnik flung her against the base of the tower and pinned her arms beside her head. "Leave the assassin to me!"

Nátala's face was glass – bloodless, it looked as if she might break at any moment from the anger showing clear through her every feature.

"Release me at once, damn you! That is my brother. My brother!"

She struggled against him, but her bird-like hands were no match for Fástnik's thick, gloved ones.

"Quiet!" he yelled, then jerked his head to fix his eyes on Kilter and Catrío. "You there – does the Chancellor live?"

Kilter looked over the edge of the path where he and Catrío stood and caught sight of the fallen figures below. The glittering form of Shev was seated now, and he held the Chancellor in his arms, his red cloak spread, blanket-like, over his father's blackened lower half.

"Shev!" Catrío called, her fingers so tight around Kilter's hand it throbbed. "Shev, are you all right?"

Shev nodded and struck his fist against his chests with a clang. His mother's wish had protected him once again.

"Thank goodness!" Catrío's legs gave way under her and she almost pulled Kilter with her when she sat down into the snow.

He looked over the edge of the path again. "What about the Chancellor, Shev?"

Shev hesitated then shook his head.

"Is he... dead?"

Shev shook his head again, but much slower than before. Turning around, Kilter relayed the news to Fástnik.

"The Chancellor is alive. But I don't think he will be very long."

Fástnik bristled at the words. Grabbing both Nátala's wrists in one of his hands, he held her back from the edge of the path, and looked down over it, himself.

"Sir!" he shouted. "Sir, quickly, enact your revenge now, while you yet have the chance!"

"What?" Nátala began to struggle again. "No! Release me at once and attend to your commander, Fástnik! He needs a healer, you insubordinate –"

With a sudden flick a blade appeared from the wrist of Fástnik's sleeve and, still holding Nátala out of the Chancellor's view, he held it against her narrow waist. Catrío gasped and Kilter's own skin flinched as if that slender sharpness were grazing his own body.