On the yacht, Ironfoot flicked his wrist. Something flashed in the air, and the sergeant made a choking noise. The hand around her ankle went limp.
She turned to see Ironfoot's dagger lodged in the sergeant's throat. She picked herself up and stumbled toward the yacht. Silverdun yanked her on board, Ironfoot cut the mooring line with another knife, and the yacht lurched into the air, sending Sela sprawling onto the deck.
Ironfoot did something to the yacht's mainsail and the yacht turned. Suddenly there was wind where there had been no wind before, and the city seemed to jump away from them. The yacht veered sharply in the city's wake, nearly toppling.
Ironfoot took the wheel and turned it sharply. There was a grinding sound below, and the ship righted itself. The city began to recede quickly now.
'I can't believe we got away!' said Timha. He was laughing nervously. 'I don't know how you did it but ... that was amazing!'
'I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, friend,' said Silverdun, pointing.
A trio of fliers was headed in their direction.
'I think somebody noticed Silverdun's light show,' said Ironfoot.
'Can't you go any faster?' asked Sela.
'Not unless you know how to make the wind blow harder,' said Ironfoot.
Timha grabbed a crank and used it to tighten one of the ropes that held the sail in place. The yacht accelerated, but not by much.
'They've got the wind behind them,' said Timha. 'And by the time we turn to run, they'll have us. We should surrender!'
'Shut up!' shouted Silverdun. Ironfoot turned the wheel hard, and the yacht dipped to the left.
'Come about and put your craft in irons!' came a spell-amplified voice from one of the approaching guard fliers.
'Irons?' said Sela, confused.
'It means to turn the bow into the wind,' said Ironfoot. 'He wants us to stop.'
Silverdun took a bolt from the small quiver attached to the front of his crossbow and put it in place, cranking the crannequin as he spoke. 'No more bright lights?' asked Ironfoot.
'I haven't got a drop of re in me. You?'
'If they all came on board and sat patiently with us, I could probably throw some Leadership at them.'
'Fine,' said Silverdun. 'Then we run and take our chances.'
It was soon clear, however, that running wasn't going to work. The guard ships were faster; they had engines of Motion that added to the speed of their sails, whereas the yacht's power only allowed it to stay in the air.
'Stop and prepare to be boarded!' came the amplified voice again.
'What do we do?' shouted Sela. Silverdun gripped the crossbow tightly, his knuckles white.
The guard fliers were gaining, nearly alongside now.
'Stop now or we will fire upon your craft!'
'Damn!' shouted Ironfoot. He turned the wheel hard to the right, veering the yacht directly toward one of the guard fliers.
'What are you doing?' shouted Timha.
'Let's see how sturdy this yacht is!' shouted Ironfoot.
The guard flier dipped in the air to avoid them, but it was too late. The yacht's prow collided with the flier's mainmast. There was a horrible scraping sound, and the cracking of wood. Crossbow shots came from below-the guards in the flier were firing on them.
Silverdun leaned over the prow of the yacht with his own crossbow and fired. There was a loud crack, and the flier came loose beneath them, drifting off astern.
Sela heard a loud snap and turned to see something bright arcing toward the yacht from one of the fliers. It was like a miniature sun. It went high and wide, just missing the smaller sail in the front of the craft. Sela could feel the heat of it as it passed.
Another snap, and another sun flew toward them. This one ripped through the mainsail and smashed into the deck just in front of Ironfoot, who let go of the wheel and jumped backward, tripping over Timha.
The deck erupted in flame. Timha crawled out from beneath Ironfoot and drew a sigil in the air with his hands. The tiny ball of flame rose straight up,
