Maspeth turned to look, and her eyes widened in shock. She grabbed Maerta's arm and began to run for the colonnade at the plaza's edge.
Maerta pulled back. 'What is--'
'Missile!' Leal pulled all the harder, and now Keir took Maerta's other arm. The Edisonian took a ponderous step, then aimed its blocklike head at the spear of fire. 'Perchlorate oxidizer,' it observed. 'Evidence of a conical gas expansion device to exploit law of equal and opposite reaction.'
'Run, you stupid...' Keir had no word for it. Anyway, they'd reached the colonnade and fell together behind one of its vast, dark pillars.
The Edisonian reached up as if to catch the missile, and the orange streak hit it with an overwhelming flash. What followed wasn't sound, but a hammer blow that picked Keir up and flung him against the wall.
Dust and grit whirled, and pieces of the airship tumbled in the plaza. Most of the lamps that had lit the space were out, but a few were bouncing around like terrified lightning bugs. Weird shadows capered after them, but the whole scene was oddly silent except for a kind of long throbbing note. Keir helped Leal Maspeth to her feet, and although her lips were moving, she wasn't making any sound.
His dragonflies had been scattered, but they could still see; and he realized that their vision was much better than that of his own eyes. He sent a couple through the dust to check if any of the plaza's entrances had collapsed, and shot another one up and up to loft finally out of the spiraling cone of dust.
Another red spark appeared, and in the flash of its birth he glimpsed the thing that had fired it: a cylindrical craft of some kind, its prow narrow and surmounted with an ornate ram. On its sides and at its rear were engines of some sort, all pointed down and laboring to keep it aloft.
It fired a third missile. 'Come on!' Keir pushed and hauled Maerta and Leal in the direction of the nearest stairwell. They came readily enough and all three made it into the archway just before the second missile hit. This time, as the flash happened, they crouched as one and braced themselves.
This time it was scry that he saw first. The Renaissance was lighting up with frantic messages and queries. They all boiled down to one question:
'We're under attack!' he projected. 'Some kind of airship.'
Glyphs of astonishment and outrage flooded the air. Maerta, however, was projecting only confusion. As the shock of the second explosion passed, the three of them hurried farther down the stairs with Leal in the lead, and Keir saw that Maerta was flinging questions at her back. Maerta had forgotten that Maspeth didn't have scry.
They reached a landing. Though the walls shook to another thumping explosion, they seemed far enough away now to be safe. Maerta grabbed Leal by the shoulder and whirled her around. She was shouting, and past the buzz and pain in his ears, he faintly heard her words:
Leal shook her head and said something. Keir didn't hear the words, but her mouth shaped a name he recognized.
Loll.
Scry had done a head count, and nobody had been hurt. Except that, as Maerta pointed out, she, Keir, and Leal had damaged eardrums.
'Come up to the Hall,' somebody said. 'We'll fix you up.'
Maerta shook her head. 'Evacuate the Hall. One of these bombs would obliterate it. Everybody needs to get into interior corridors and rooms that are behind Aethyr's skin.'
Leal was flailing around frantically. After a moment Keir realized that it was entirely dark down here; she couldn't see. Only he could, apparently, through his dragonflies. Keir grabbed her hands, and she shouted something. He made out the words 'my people' behind the ringing drone.
'Does anybody know where the Virgans are?' he interjected.
The walls of Brink faded, replaced by a wireframe map where everybody's location was indicated. He tapped both of the women on their shoulders, then took their hands and began guiding them through blackness to the empty depths of the city.
* * *
THEY'D FUSSED AROUND her ears for a minute, and now Leal had something icy cold in each one. Her junk-doll was standing on tiptoe, its hand in the left canal, which felt simultaneously odd and comforting.
Running people and single-minded machines swirled around her as she sat on a crate that had just been brought into this long chamber. Keir's people looked panicked, but they acted in perfect synchrony, stacking supplies in precise locations, avoiding one another with uncanny accuracy. Piero Harper and the other Virgan airmen looked calm, but they were all over each other in their attempt to get organized.
'How do you hear now?' asked the junk-doll. Surprisingly, the ringing had stopped.
'Uh, fine. It's like normal.' The ice seemed to be penetrating deep into her skull, twin spikes on either side. She felt they should be visible, like antennae or headlamps.
Piero knelt down and looked at her with concern. 'You're sure you're okay?'
'She will be fine, thank you,' said the doll. Leal couldn't help but smile.
'Was it Loll? Did you see?'
She shook her head. 'It was too dark. But it must have been. Though I didn't think Abyss had ships that could come so deep into gravity...'
'They've had time to experiment. Probably just clamped extra engines onto something until it stayed up. But,' he added, glancing up at the stone ceiling, 'I doubt they can land.'
'They don't have to. They can pummel the city into dust from above.'
He stood up again. 'I don't think they can. Or will. Listen.' Now that she could hear, Leal realized that the only
