“Is he burning the city?” Aline whispered.
Dunbrae shook his head. “Not by the look of it. I don’t think he’s even burned very much of it.” He caught Aline’s eye and nodded sympathy. “Rose Hall, mistress. That’s gone fer certain, and likely the homes of yer unlucky neighbors. That about it.”
“It’s enough,” Usha said bitterly. She paced the riverside, looking up and down the current She felt a prickling between her shoulder blades. “There are no guards. Why not?”
From the darkness behind them, a low voice said, “Because I told Sir Radulf where you were, and he needed his men there.”
Usha whirled to see Loren Halgard walk out from behind a stack of lumber. She had seen him white with grief and pale with rage. She had never seen him like this—hollowed. Usha took a step toward him.
Dezra’s sword hissed from the sheath, the blade running with starlight.
The high song of steel answering steel screamed on the night. Aline cried out as Madoc Diviner’s sword checked Dezra’s.
“Madoc! You’re safe! I—”
Out of the corner of her eye Usha saw Dunbrae get between Aline and the steel.
“Put up your sword, Dez,” Madoc said.
“Not while I’m among traitors,” she spat.
“Dez,” Usha said, “stand down.”
Without moving her head, Dezra cast a scornful glance at Loren. “You heard him. He put Sir Radulf onto us.”
Dezra held, Madoc wouldn’t give, and a large, knob-knuckled hand closed firmly over the cross where the blades met.
“Put up your sword, Madoc Diviner,” Aline said.
Her command hung for a moment unanswered, then Madoc bowed like a knight heeding his lady’s will and put away his steel.
“Lady Usha,” he said, “Loren did not betray you. There are some things you need to know.” He looked past her to the city, the smoke, and the fire. “And you don’t have long to learn them.”
Usha’s heart was like a storm sky. Feelings flashed like lightning as she watched Qui’thonas mount its last rescue. At Aline’s order, Dunbrae, Aline herself, and Dezra went quickly and quietly downriver, looking for what Aline ominously named the doorway to the eastern catacombs. To her question and Loren’s, Madoc gave only an evasive answer. Usha didn’t press.
“And no time for that anyway,” Loren said.
He put an arm around her waist, walking close beside her in the shadows while Madoc loped ahead. Warehouses lined this part of the river, casting shadow out to the water. In that darkness, the mage ran like an outrider.
The sky above Haven glowed red. Usha felt a shudder of dragonfear as one of the great winged beasts flew near. Loren’s arm tightened around her as though he felt it too.
“My love—”
Usha’s pulse quickened to hear him speak the endearment she thought she’d never hear again.
“My love,” Loren said, “you’re being hunted.”
“I am? But... Qui’thonas—?”
“Yes, they know about Aline, too. It’s why they descended on Rose Hall so quickly. The man Sir Radulf tortured—”
His face went white. One eye on Madoc as he slipped in and out of shadows, Loren told the tale of Rowan’s treachery.
Anger mingling with sorrow, Usha said, “But how did you know this? Loren, you said Rowan was killed.”
“He was. Madoc told me he was hanged on the idea that if he betrayed one master, he’d betray another. Sir Radulf took the information and killed the messenger.”
Again, the shiver of dragonfear; this time stronger. Loren moved Usha deeper into shadow and pressed her against the silvering wood of a tumble-down shed. From the sky, no one would see her. From the other side of the river, she would be invisible. Over his shoulder, Usha saw the sky. No dragon flew there, but one was near. Across the river no one moved, no mounted knight or foot soldier.
“How did Madoc know about Rowan?”
Loren’s answer startled her. “Sir Arvel told him.”
“But—”
Arm around her again, Loren led her downriver. “The knight isn’t all you imagined him to be, Usha. Madoc says Sir Arvel is a man who can play both sides of the street—and patches in the middle if those suit him. Sir Arvel is one of his best informants. Not for ideology or because he thinks the dark knights have the right of anything. Sir Arvel likes to live well; simple as that. He never seems to earn enough from his service to his master’s cause.”
Usha shook her head, remembering how Dez had railed against Madoc, the man who served no master but his own need. What would she say about Sir Arvel of Kinsalla? Usha didn’t like to think about it.
Small figures emerged from the shadows far down the river. Two went together—Aline and Madoc, surely. They ran, quickly but not as though pursued.
Loren whispered, “Usha...”
Usha, it’s time to go. Usha, it’s time to say good-bye. He didn’t speak those words, yet Usha heard them, the understanding of parting breaking over her suddenly.
“Loren, I don’t—”
He shook his head. “You have to go. Right now.”
As though to underscore his insistence, the sound of shouting and the thunder of horses swelled. Knights galloped through the city, and the cold terror of dragonfear touched her heart again.
“They’ve found out that Aline is gone from Rose Hall, Usha. They might have learned you were with her.”
“You said you told Sir Radulf where to find me.”
“I did.” Loren’s was a rueful smile. “He’s probably figured out by now that you’re nowhere near the gate to the Seeker Reaches.”
The thunder of horses sounded closer, crashing down the narrow alley to the wharf. Usha stepped out of the shadows then turned back swiftly.
“They’re here! Mounted knights!”
She looked again and saw a banner flying from the top of a lance. No one carried a banner in Sir Radulf’s talon but one knight. Lady Mearah separated from the troop and sent her mount plunging out onto the river bank.
Down the strand, Madoc stopped, and Dunbrae turned. Words passed between them, drowned by the thunder of hooves. Dunbrae turned back toward Aline. He would never leave her. Madoc would never permit it.
Lady Mearah made for Madoc standing alone at the waterside. A sharp cry rang out—
“Madoc Diviner!”
Madoc turned, sword in hand. Loren tried to push Usha deeper into the shadows. With a cry, she pulled away. Lady Mearah passed by, mud flying from her horse’s hooves. Light of the fires in the sky tipped her sword red. Lady Mearah gave her black mare the spur and it surged forward.
Usha broke away from Loren, shouting Madoc’s name. If he heard, he didn’t move. He stood alone at the waterside, his back to those who’d fled, his sword gripped in two hands to face the dark knight bearing down on him. In a spray of water and mud, she pulled her mount to a halt, and the beast went back on its haunches. She leaped to the ground, and Usha ran as fast as she could toward them.
The horse backed away, well trained and getting out of the way of battle. Usha caught dangling reins and before she could think what to do with them, Loren snatched them from her hand.
“Wait here!” he snapped.
She barely gave him a glance, and she certainly didn’t wait there.
“Madoc Diviner,” the lady knight said, her voice cold, “I charge you with the death of the dark elf Tavar Evenstar.”
Madoc shook his head. “Haven’s better without him, but I didn’t kill him.”
“Word out of the Grinning Goat sent him to his death. Not your word?”
One bright glance flashed between Madoc and Loren, Usha didn’t have time to decipher it before the mage lifted his sword to meet Lady Mearah’s challenge.
The belling of steel on steel rang in the night. Usha saw at once that though skilled, Madoc was out-matched—in weapon and reach. He held his own for several moments, and nimbleness saved him twice from having a hand cut off. His sword clashed against Mearah’s breastplate and did no damage. He ducked away from a killing thrust and in the same instant, Usha heard Loren curse.