the promachos anymore, Gavin.”
“It’s not like any fifty of their half-trained drafters could stop—”
“What you are is the best Prism we’ve had in fifty, maybe a hundred years. And they might have fifty-one drafters, or five hundred at their little heretical Chromeria, so I won’t hear of it. Karris will check on this woman and her son and see what she can learn as she investigates this ‘King’ Garadul. You can expect her return within two months. And speaking of color wights, an unusually powerful blue wight was just seen on the outskirts of the Blood Forest, heading toward Ru.”
A blue wight heading toward the reddest lands in the world. Odd. And blues were usually so logical. It was a distraction, but it was a good one, and it left him almost no time to reach Karris. “By your leave, then, High Lady,” he said, his good manners always partly ironical. He didn’t wait for her approval before he gathered his magic and jogged toward the edge of the tower.
“Oh no you don’t!” she said.
He stopped. Sighed. “What?”
“Gavin!” she scolded. “Surely you didn’t forget you promised to teach today. It’s a high honor for each class to meet with you. They wait months for this.”
“Which class?” he asked suspiciously.
“Superviolets. There’s only six of them.”
“Isn’t that the class with the girl always spilling out of her top? Lana? Ana?” It was one thing when women pursued Gavin, but that girl had been throwing herself at him since she was fourteen.
The White looked pained. “We have spoken with that one a few times.”
“Look,” Gavin said, “the tide is going out, I have to catch Karris. I’ll teach that class next time you see me. No excuses, no fight.”
“You give me your word?”
“I give you my word.”
The White smiled like a sated cat. “You enjoy teaching more than you admit, don’t you, Gavin?”
“Gah!” Gavin said. “Goodbye!”
Before she could say anything else, he sprinted for the edge of the tower and leapt into space.
Chapter 8
Kip was staring at Isa’s body. After she’d seen the soldiers kill Ram, she’d looked back at Kip. She’d been looking for safety, for protection. She’d looked at him, and she’d known he couldn’t save her.
A sound and a sudden absence next to him made Kip tear his eyes away from Isa. Sanson was running toward the village. Sanson wasn’t smart, but he’d always been practical. He hadn’t done anything so dumb in his life. But Kip couldn’t blame him. They’d never seen anyone die, either.
But there was no way the soldiers could fail to see Sanson, and now he’d die too if Kip didn’t do anything.
Kip had stood around enough, doing nothing while his friends died. He didn’t think. He acted. He ran—the other way.
Kip hated running. When Ram ran, it was like watching a hunting hound speed after a deer, all hard lean muscles and flowing strength. When Isa ran, it was like watching the deer flee, all easy grace and surprising speed. Kip running was like a milk cow lumbering out to pasture. Still, no one was expecting him.
He made it to Ram’s body and to full speed before he heard a shout. He crashed up the bank of the river, barely slowing. Once he got his mass moving, it took a lot to stop him.
A dead tree, its trunk rising to shin level, mostly hidden in the long grasses, counted as a lot. Kip’s shin cracked into wood in midstride, and he pitched forward. He skidded on his face and then flopped over like a fish. Pain blurred his vision black and red. For a second, he thought he was going to throw up, then he went lightheaded. He looked down, fully expecting bone to be jutting out of his leg. Nothing. Wimp.
Tears streamed from his eyes. His hands were bleeding again, fingernails torn. He heard the men on the bridge shouting. They’d lost him for the moment, but horsemen were coming. He wasn’t fifty paces away. The grasses were only knee high. The horsemen would see him any second now, and then he’d die. Just like Isa.
He staggered to his feet, his shin afire, tears blurring the world. He hated himself. Crying because he fell down. Because he was clumsy. Because he was weak.
The horsemen gave a yell as he stood. Kip had seen King Garadul’s horsemen pass through town before, but never in full battle harness. When they passed through Rekton, their harnesses were always stowed. Rekton wasn’t even big enough to be worth