magic involved. And if the drop of blood at the tip of the spear was from a mage bound by blood to someone under the bell jar dome.
“One way or the other this siege will break,” said Amara. “Mohandas has seen the future, and his visions have never led us astray.”
When they first learned that they had been trapped under a bell jar dome, Amara had intimated that the rebels would take whatever measures necessary to keep Fairfax out of Atlantis’s hands—including killing her themselves, if it came to that. And Kashkari, in what amounted to an outburst for him, had told Amara in no uncertain terms that a prophetic dream had let him know that Fairfax would not only survive this night, but venture as far as Atlantis itself, in a quest to finish the Bane in his lair.
Except Kashkari had been lying outright, as he had later admitted to Titus and Fairfax outside Amara’s earshot.
Kashkari, as good a liar as Titus had ever met—and Titus was a world-class one himself—nodded gravely. “Thank you, Durga Devi.”
Durga Devi was Amara’s nom de guerre. Titus also addressed her thus, but for him it was less a term of respect than of distance: the woman had been willing to murder Fairfax to keep her out of the Bane’s reach; he would never not regard her with several measures of suspicion.
Outside the bell jar dome, another net sprang up to catch a forest of—Titus had thought them all bewitched spears, but now it appeared that there were lengths of hunting ropes mixed in.
Why? To make the bewitched spears appear more numerous? Or was there some other purpose?
Amara’s expression changed. She reached into a pocket, pulled out a notebook, and opened it.
“Is it my brother?” Kashkari asked immediately.
“You know those who go on raids are not allowed to take two-way notebooks.” She turned to Titus. “It’s your allies, Your Highness, requesting that Miss Seabourne be ready to deliver two dozen thunderbolts to the approaching company of armored chariots.”
“Why are my allies contacting you?”
“But armored chariots are lightning-proof,” said Fairfax at the same time.
“They said to tell you ‘certus amicus temporibus incertis,’” said Amara. To Fairfax’s query she only shrugged—there was no answer for that.
Certus amicus in temporibus incertis—a certain friend in uncertain times—was one of the code phrases that Titus and Dalbert, his valet and personal spymaster, had agreed upon. A piece of communication bearing such a phrase signaled that it had originated from someone Dalbert deemed trustworthy.
Titus’s preference was to trust as few people as possible. And to never undertake any action without having thoroughly investigated potential consequences. But at the moment he could not afford either luxury.
“You might as well,” he told Fairfax.
They called for even more powerful far-seeing spells. The armored chariots, still several miles away, cut swiftly through the night, almost invisible except for the muted sheen on their underbellies, a reflection of the glow of the war phoenix.
“When?” asked Fairfax.
“Now,” said Amara. “The entire lot, if you will.”
Fairfax pointed her wand toward the armored chariots. The sky writhed with blue-white streaks; thunderbolts crashed as if the gods were drunk.
Twenty-four bolts of lightning in two seconds, followed by a long moment during which no one spoke—or breathed. Then all the armored chariots fell, as if they were so many boulders at last yielding to the might of gravity.
A deafening silence: fear and wonder were alike in their capacity to produce speechlessness. Even Amara, who must know that there was trickery involved, gazed with awe upon Fairfax.
The latter was the only one to appear more confused than dazzled. “But that shouldn’t have been possible. They are lightning-proof.”
Titus signaled her to hold her questions. He raised his voice to speechmaking volume again. “Can anyone doubt any longer the power of the divine spark? Stand no more in the path of the one beloved by the Angels, and you need not fear their wrath.”
Then, at normal volume, for her ears alone, “I could not let pass such a perfect moment for propaganda.”
“Of course not. But do you know what is going on?”
“I might.”
The arrival of yet another cluster of bewitched spears and hunting ropes, whooshing and hissing, roused the Atlanteans from their stupor. Another net sprang up as wyvern riders chased the few loose objects that had not been caught.
“I will tell you what is going on later. Now I need you to create as much distraction as possible. Keep everyone’s eyes on high if you can. I will do the same.” He