hailstorm of icicles shattered against his personal shield. Ice stabbed the walls, tore portraits, and chipped the bannister, freezing instantly, making every surface slippery as glass.
Crouching to keep his feet, Ratigan crooked three fingers and conjured a flush of desert heat that steamed the ice into clouds. Yet he barely avoided skidding down the stairs.
Shooting her fingers downward, Helara hurled a second spell. Acid rain gushed from the ceiling. Ratigan writhed as his flesh corroded, and his robe smoked. Gamely he struggled to conjure. Fog blossomed around Helara's feet, then coalesced into snaky heads with teeth. Without a pause in her spellcasting, the red-robed wizard stamped one foot, and the snake heads evaporated.
Over the chanting of mages and creaking and groaning of the house, Tamlin called to Escevar, 'I remember now! Padrig mentioned Ratigan the Green! Should we have told Helara?'
Escevar never got to answer, for familiar deadly whistles keened behind the house. Within seconds, fearsome gnashers boiled around the ruined gallery. Lunging low or half-sailing on stubby wings, the beasts barked and snarled frantically, hot to tear into the invaders. After them trotted the foreign hillmen in rough smocks and gnasher-fur vests. They couldn't hang back far as they shouted commands because brick walls hemmed the house.
Mouth open in a mute warcry, Vox slung his axe high and jumped off the gallery to the attack. Escevar, sword and smatchet sizzling, slashed and hacked the first dog that touched down on the tilted porch. Tamlin drew his long sword, but almost stabbed Magdon who, no fighter, whipped behind him for protection, her pale pink eyes round as lanterns. Hollering 'Uskevren!' the housecarls stabbed wildly at gnashers and hillmen. Meanwhile, in the crumbling foyer, Helara heaped abuse and spells on the besieged Ratigan.
Amidst this mad melee, the albino Ophelia unleashed her 'hidden talents.'
With a nerve-grating screech of 'Al-scara-tway!' her stubby hand sliced a swath in the air. Five stripes of fire pinwheeled into the night, then struck, stuck, and burned-everywhere. Oncoming gnashers suddenly wore burning mustaches and fire-streaked backs. Vox's bear-fur cape charred with a nauseating stink. A housecarl's tunic burned across his shoulders. Paint, brick, splinters, bushes, and leafless trees ignited in stripes that dripped flame like candle wax.
Ophelia flexed her left hand, shouted, and swiped again. Another five-fingered rainbow of fire sizzled on people and gnashers. Primed for more, the fingers of her right hand glowed.
'Doesn't she have any other spells?' Tamlin called over his shoulder.
'We're new to magic!' confessed Magdon. Her sister slung fire to the winds, igniting friend and foe alike.
Squatting, Tamlin surveyed the brawling, spellcasting, shrieking, stabbing, and dogfighting that boiled around and inside the teetering smoking house. He called, 'I say, Magdon, everything seems to be under control! I'm going to explore a bit!'
'Don't leave me!' chirped the gadget-mage. Clutching for Tamlin's cape, she missed and skidded backward down the porch.
Sword in hand, cape over his head, Tamlin hopped through the shattered door, dodged the shrieking Helara, skidded on ice, ducked a flaming tapestry curling off a wall, and scampered down a dark hallway.
Not so dark, he discovered. Ophelia's errant spell had rooted in the upper story. Flames licked above Ratigan's head as he clung desperately to the ruined stairs. This old house would burn like candlewood, Tamlin reckoned, unless it collapsed first. The floor wobbled while smoke thickened. The young lord wondered if he should bolt.
A scream came from the second floor. A familiar scream.
Unable to climb the front stairs, Tamlin dashed to the back of the house. While opening doors he found a barracks where the hillmen had obviously bunked, a dining hall, a pantry, a filthy kitchen-and a back stair for servants.
Sheathing his sword, Tamlin clattered to the top. Fire chased across the ceiling and licked at paint and varnish. Above Helara's shrieks and Ratigan's bellows, Tamlin heard the scream again from a front room. The floor was painted with red and yellow squares. Superstitious, Tamlin skip-hopped from yellow to yellow to gain the door.
When Tamlin grabbed the thumblatch, a spark scorched a hole in his kid glove. Cursing, the young lord studied the door. Locked and magically warded, he decided, same as the front door, though not as strong a spell. The ward was probably meant to keep out the hillmen. It shouldn't stop someone really determined, as Tamlin was, perhaps for the first time in his life.
Snagging his cape around his shoulder, the lordling rammed the door. Sparks flared and burned and blinded. His cape smoldered and charred. Hissing, Tamlin gritted his teeth and bulled again, harder. Again. To his surprise, the door burst. The young lord tripped on the threshold and sprawled on a bare dusty floor.
'Tamlin! Thank the gods! Free me, please!'
Scrambling up, Tamlin grinned with delight. Zarrin was disheveled and hollow-eyed but alive. Her wrist manacles encircled a stout post where plaster was gouged from the wall. A sagging settle and bucket were the only furnishings. The floor canted like a ship's deck as the gutted house settled.
'Tamlin!' Tears streaked Zarrin's dirty cheeks. Her purple vest lacked gold buttons, stolen. 'Oh, I'm so glad you came! I smelled the smoke and feared to burn-'
'Yes, yes, don't fret. Rescuing's in my blood, after all, like heroism. And we Uskevren always keep our promises.' Tamlin fumbled with Zarrin's fetters, feeling immensely smug at finding her. Still, he hurried, for flames licked at the doorway and smoke pooled on the ceiling. 'What a story this will make for the pubs! Think how proud Vox will be, and Father-Oh, no! Wait!'
Tamlin let go the chains. 'We must settle up first.'
Zarrin gaped in horror. 'Don't joke, Tamlin! Release me! The fire-'
'No, I'm sorry. Business before pleasure, as Father likes to nag. I have to renegotiate the gate tariffs.' Tamlin raised his voice over the crackle of flames, groaning of the house, and clash of spells and arms outside. Smoke made him cough. 'Father was not happy with our bargain. You wouldn't believe the nasty names I endured, Zar! Now let's see… As I recall, you get to collect duties on the North Gate and we got stuck with the western. Or was it the other way around? No, that's it. So we need-'
'Are you mad? Are you drunk or crazy?' Zarrin rattled her manacles. 'Get these chains off immediately! Get me out of here or I'll kill you!'
'No, I'm afraid-ouch!' Rubbing his chin, Tamlin gouged a scab from an earlier fight. 'Wheels of the wizards, this is my night to suffer!'
'Very well, you can have the gate!' Tears from fright and smoke poured from Zarrin's eyes. 'You can have the northern gate and I'll take the western! Just please-'
'No.' Tamlin fought to think. It had been a long night. 'Escevar said never to accept the first offer. But how about-'
'All right, you can have both double-dark damned gates!' shrieked the woman. 'Take them! I, Zarrin Foxmantle, hereby transfer to you, Tamlin Bloody Heartless Monster Uskevren, all taxes and duties collected at both gates! The Foxmantles divest themselves of any gates! Every gate in the city! Now get me loose or I'll skin you alive!'
'I guess that'll do.' Tamlin coughed as he fiddled with the shackles. The locks were of new brass but the chains antique. Drawing his smatchet, Tamlin whacked the fetters against the wooden post. The new-fangled smatchet, weakened by its fancy blade-catching groove, immediately snapped.
'Drat the dark! No wonder Vox hates these things!' Drawing his long sword, Tamlin used both hands to whack at the chains. Finally he cut them. Zarrin leaped off the settle like a rocket and pelted for the door, chains jingling. Spitting smoke, Tamlin left his sword wedged in the post and followed.
Fire rippled and flared everywhere. No wizards warred on the stairs, for the front of the house had almost crunched flat. Zarrin and Tamlin skidded down the ruined stairs, slithered out the squashed doorway, clawed across the splintered gallery, and finally dashed to the safety of the street.
Panting, breath frosting, Tamlin wrapped his cape around the shivering Zarrin. Huddled, they gaped at the ongoing chaos.
The tilted house burned brightly. Chunks toppled into the gardens. Flaming trees shot sparks that the breeze blew throughout the neighborhood. Citizens scurried in flickering darkness, carrying buckets and lugging fire-hooks.
