stretched; she could not help grimacing in despair at how long it took her to come on guard. As Thalia started her attack, the manticore was already there, trampling Nutall underfoot.
Thalia kept her arms moving, letting the energy of her turn augment her swing. She missed her target completely, but the manticore sat back on its haunches in its haste to back out of range. Nutall rolled away stage left, apparently unhurt.
The swan inside Thalia, drawn near the surface by the manticore, fought for dominance over her. Thalia put every bit of her will into ignoring the swan and every ounce of her strength into recovering her balance. She readied a better swing even as the manticore gathered itself to attack. Thalia’s whole focus was the monster before her. Yet within, she welcomed the sense of the swan melding its fury with her fear, lending its strength to her arm.
Distantly, Thalia knew that the Skinner must be lining up his shot, even as her audience and assistants were scrambling for shelter from the fight. Only she and the manticore remained onstage. Out of all the people in the theater, Thalia alone had what the manticore wanted. If she could resist the urge to Trade, her audience could flee. They were safe while the manticore attacked her. She was safe only as long as her strength lasted.
Thalia was no stranger to anger. Always, she had been best served by using her anger on someone else’s behalf. Now, in defense of her audience, Thalia set her anger—and the swan’s fury—free. She snarled at the manticore. “No Trading today.”
The manticore snarled back at her, coming so near that its breath made Thalia gag.
Thalia and the manticore were joined by a third presence at center stage.
Tycho Aristides, the Skinner of Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and the Bronx, shoved his way into position just behind the manticore’s left foreleg. He leaned against the beast. It had to shift its weight to keep its balance. The manticore, still focused completely on Thalia, shouldered Aristides back.
Aristides aimed both his Sibley-McKay pistols at the base of the manticore’s skull. He fired. The manticore went down and stayed down. The smell of gunpowder was sharp for a moment, then completely overwhelmed by the stench of the dying monster.
The overpowering urge to Trade left Thalia, snapped like a thread. That, as much as Aristides’ professional air of limitless calm, convinced her she was truly safe.
Aristides used his knife to remove the creature’s gall bladder and stow it tidily away in one of his collection of jam jars. While he worked, Thalia stayed on guard. Where one man could transform into a manticore, there could be another. It was unlikely, but Thalia earned her living on the border between likely and unlikely.
Time picked up its natural speed again as Thalia caught her breath. The audience regained its composure. Nutall came back to Thalia’s side. “Are you quite all right?”
Thalia nodded. For the moment, words were beyond her.
“You could put the sword down now. If you like.” Nutall put his hand on Thalia’s wrist and guided her as she let the sword point come safely down. “Put it down, there’s a good girl.”
“It would have worked,” Thalia said, meaning the sword. Even now, with the manticore dead at her feet, she felt she would never willingly put that sword away again.
“Probably.” Nutall handed her the scabbard.
Thalia heard the doubt implicit in Nutall’s dry tone. “No, it would. I can defend myself.”
“Without a doubt.” This time Nutall’s voice held only honest encouragement. “Thank you for your willingness to defend me too.”
Thalia frowned at Nutall. “You’re really just going to do what they want?”
“I ran away from them for years.” Nutall, still warily scanning everyone left in the theater, somehow managed to ignore Mrs. Viridian and her husband completely. “I’ve had a good innings, but now it is time to make my peace with them.”
“All right.” Thalia couldn’t look at Nutall calmly for a moment longer, so she pretended that it took her entire attention to fit her sword back in its scabbard. She had risked a great deal to set Nutall free in the world. That he did not wish to be free had never crossed her mind. She had given him an expensive gift only to discover that he didn’t want it.
“Are you? For someone who has just been attacked by a manticore, you’re distressingly quiet,” Nutall said. “This is a reversal of policy. I expected you to shout at me