Claimed by Shadow Page 0,87
on his lower legs was the least of my worries.
I fumbled for his restraints, but I couldn't see them, couldn't see anything next to the violent, thrashing world of white. Then something bounced on the table right beside me and I understood what the odd, thumping noise raining down all around us was. The wind carried hailstones the size of bowling balls, and since they were trapped between the four walls of the Senate chamber, they had nowhere to spend their fury except to ricochet off every available surface. It was like being caught in Hell's pinball game. If I didn't get Tomas loose soon, they'd crush his feet, and no way could I drag him anywhere.
I had to get us out of there and I had to find Myra, although how I was supposed to deal with her in my current state I had no idea. All I wanted was to curl into a little ball and wait for Mircea to find me-and if I stayed, I knew he would. Whatever strength had allowed him to pull away, the geis was stronger. It wouldn't be long now.
Something hit Tomas' right leg, jarring his whole body. I stretched but couldn't reach far enough to shield his lower limbs without leaving his head unprotected, and I couldn't pull his legs up because they were strapped down. I tried to shift, but although I felt something this time, like a slight tug, I still couldn't go anywhere. Hurry up, I thought desperately.
I finally figured out the release on Tomas' hand restraints and had just clicked them open when the room suddenly became a lot more crowded. A tattoo parlor was sitting in the middle of it, so close to the main table that it was almost on top of us. Mac's face, half obscured by snow even though it was only a few yards away, appeared in the main window under the flashing mag ink sign. A second later, an arm covered in wriggling designs reached out the front door and grabbed Tomas by the leg, clicking off the right ankle restraint with practiced ease.
As soon as Mac hauled Tomas in the door, I scrambled across the table after them. The shop had landed on the impressive row of steps leading up to the dais on which the table sat, and was therefore tilted towards me. If I made it another few feet, my momentum should do the rest.
I had just managed to clasp the hand Pritkin held out when someone grabbed my ankle. My ward-damn it- didn't flare, but Sheba suddenly got busy. She had ignored Mircea, either because of the null effect or because she didn't view him as a threat. But whoever had grabbed me was another matter. I felt her flow down my body, then there was the sound of a snarling great cat and a surprised yelp from a dignified Senate leader. Sheba launched herself off my foot, and a second later the Consul let go of my leg.
"Come on!" Pritkin gave a heave and I almost flew the rest of the way across the slick tabletop. We tumbled in the door of the shop and suddenly I could see again. Neither Mac nor Tomas was in the front, but I didn't have time to worry about it. At Pritkin's yell of "We're clear!" the whole building started to shake.
The next minute we were barreling through pure stone, on a crazy zigzag course into the middle of MAGIC's foundations. We were making pretty good time, it seemed to me, although I was so busy holding on to Pritkin, who had a death grip on the counter, that it was hard to tell. I did see a dark blur, however, coming down the newly carved tunnel, and the next minute Kit Marlowe tumbled into the wildly lurching room.
He looked grim and determined, and there was an air of danger about him that I didn't remember from our brief childhood meeting. Of course, that night he'd been enjoying Tony's best hospitality, not bleeding from half a dozen wounds. "Oh, bugger it!" I heard Pritkin mutter. He pulled me off his back, pressed my hands around the edges of the desk and yelled, "Hold on," loudly enough to threaten to rupture my eardrum. Then he let go and went flying across the room at Marlowe.
They grappled, but without magic it was down to old-fashioned dirty fighting and pure muscle, and they seemed about evenly matched. Marlowe was yelling something at