that hardly mattered now.
Sin jumped over his body and went for the door, out into a long hall full of dusty pictures. She ran under a chandelier in the shape of a dream catcher, the carved crystal hanging dull and dim, throwing open every door in the corridor as she went.
She could hear running feet and slamming doors, and did not know which sounds were her allies, intent on the same task as she, and which the magicians running to fight them.
When she opened the next door, one opposite a charmed tapestry inscribed with rings, crowns, and jewels, it didn’t matter.
The room beyond was vast, with a vaulted ceiling and a glossy wooden floor that bore twelve of the most perfect summoning circles Sin had ever seen, the lines of communication that translated demons’ silent language into speech straight and true, the circles within circles smooth. There were pairs of circles overlapping each other, like dancers’ circles, as if to make more room for the demons. Even the circles not currently occupied gleamed with subtle fire, with a shimmer like the reflection of the magical stones for which the magicians’ Circles were named.
The circles with demons in them were brimful of brimfire, and the demons inside them were negotiating with the magicians. Sin saw Gerald, Laura, and Helen, their faces almost obscured by flame, intent on the demons.
Sin put her hand into her pocket and took out a beacon light, so small it was like a glowing pearl in her palm. Then she closed her eyes and crushed it in her fist.
Light erupted from her hand as if she held lightning trapped in her fingers, the shuddering shock of brightness painting the insides of her eyelids with violent yellow streaks.
Sin opened her eyes.
She’d given the signal. Everyone who could come would be coming soon.
Not soon enough, she realized, as she saw Gerald’s face.
The fireball only just missed her as she threw herself onto the ground, tumbling head over feet and landing crouched behind more balefire.
It might be a good cover for her, but she didn’t want the magicians to have any more power.
“Thalassa, who loves the sea by night and drowning by night better,” Sin shouted. “I dismiss you!”
Name the demon, and you controlled it. The balefire screening her began to ebb and dim, and as she performed another roll she shouted another name.
“Mafdet the clawed, I dismiss you!”
She couldn’t keep this up. Where was everybody?
“Amanozako the blade-eater,” said Jamie from the door, as if she had called him with her need. “I dismiss you.”
Gerald stopped hurling fireballs at Sin. For a moment, all he did was look at Jamie, standing in the doorway with Mae at his shoulder. Jamie was wearing the clumsy hook they had got him because they didn’t have time to make anything better.
There was blood on it.
The pause gave Sin a moment to look at Gerald. He looked terrible in a way that went beyond the battle her Market had brought to him. He was very thin, attenuated as if his own flesh was being eaten away from the inside out. This was no smug villain, Sin thought. He looked like a torture victim.
He cared about Jamie. She’d known that much before, that they must have been friends at some point, that Gerald had believed in him.
He’d killed and schemed and sacrificed his friend for power, and look what good it had done him.
Jamie seemed to see the same thing Sin did. He paused with his hand uplifted, as Gerald had, and he looked sorry.
There was a commotion in the corridor. When the door opened again, there were more magicians behind it.
Sin’s hand closed convulsively on the handle of her knife.
There was light like a starburst in the corridor, and the sound of steel. Sin could see heads falling from view, magicians being cut down, and a path being carved out.
Into the room with the other magicians came a band of Market people and pipers, necromancers and messengers, and in the lead Nick Ryves.
Nick had his sword out, blood running down the steel. He moved so Mae was between him and Jamie, shielded as much as she could be, her pocketknife clasped in her hand. Jamie’s hand and hook were suddenly shimmering like his eyes, his whole body obscured by a haze of power.
“Gerald,” Jamie asked imploringly. His face was pinched and pale, full of dread. “Will you surrender? Please.”
Gerald laughed at him.
“We can all live,” Jamie continued as if he had not. “Give me the leadership of the magicians, and you can go in peace. You can live.”
There was a stir among all the magicians, as if they had not expected Jamie to ask for this.
“You want my Circle?” Gerald demanded, and then laughed again. “I told you, didn’t I? I always told you, no matter how much power you have, you’ll always want more.”
“I want the Circle to join the Market,” Jamie said softly. “You could too, if you wanted.”
