Maddox’s eyes widened. Cozbi grew skittish beneath me, as did Misty, who ducked her head into the saddlebag.
“Quick. To the canal,” I said, stamping down my own panic. “We won’t be any use burnt to a crisp.”
Making sure the horses were in a single file, I led us through the buildings until we came to the canal. Several witches were already there, magicking buckets into the dark water. It seemed that one individual could only enchant two or three at a time. The buckets only moved as fast as they ran.
I dismounted. Pulling out a length of rope from the saddlebag, I tied it to a bucket and threw it over the edge. It crashed into the water below. My arms strained as I hauled the full bucket back up, palms stinging.
Maddox did the same, strands of hair falling from his drenched ponytail. “At this rate we won’t do any good,” he said with a grunt, lowering the bucket onto the ground. The rope unfurled from the handle. “We should go back and get help.”
I rested my hand against a lamppost. My feet and back ached. The adrenaline from before had masked how sore my body was from the past hours of touring. This was an idiotic idea. I tilted my head back in frustration.
Three lamps shone brightly at the top of the post.
“Wait.”
Stepping back, I tossed the rope over a curve of the post, tying one end to the bucket and the other around my hand, fashioning a crude pulley system. The rope was just long enough. I lifted the bucket with a tug, this time with much more ease.
Several more lamps lined the railing of the bridge.
“Gather as many witches as you can,” I told Maddox with newfound energy. “I’ve improved my plan.”
I had fashioned the same pulley system on five posts when Maddox reappeared with ten witches behind him, all covered in soot. I recognized one of them as Pamela from the fabric shop.
“Lady Narcissa, what are you doing here?” she cried, looking over her shoulder at the billowing smoke snaking down the streets. “Have you brought men to help?”
I shook my head, ignoring the twinge of guilt at her words, and squared my shoulders. “I brought horses.”
I proceeded to explain my plan. Some witches would stay to man the pulley systems while those who could ride would levitate buckets toward the fire on horseback, taking the animals as far as they can go.
“That'll speed things up tremendously,” one of them said, panting.
“It’ll be ideal if we have more than five pulley stations,” I said, looking at the bare lampposts further down. “If you could tell the others to join us—as many as possible—the sooner the fire will be tamed. We can do this together.”
Pamela blew a breath. “Us witches have never seen the value of leadership. Now it saves us in our time of need.” She gave me a grim smile. “Now. Where is the rope?”
As Pamela and the others set up more stations, I led the horses down the bridge. They stamped their hooves nervously as the odor of smoke and ash grew stronger.
“Heroism and sugar cubes await.” I looked at Cozbi. “And pears.”
The horses whinnied in a resounding cheer. I let the witches take their reins, one after the other, as they galloped down the street. I trusted the animals to protect themselves and their riders.
I turned and began filling buckets as more disheveled witches streamed toward the canal, picking a role to play in the system. The cacophony of splashing water, hooves clattering against stone, and panicked shouts seemed to last for hours until the crackling fire ceased and the streets were no longer illuminated by its eerie red glow.
The rain had helped tremendously in our efforts once everyone removed the enchantments from their roofs.
Maddox put a hand on my shoulder. “I think it’s over,” he said, coughing into his tunic. I let go of the bucket I was about to lower.
“Is it?” My voice was feebly hoarse from the smoke I had inhaled. “Are there any casualties?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. We should go check.”
I nodded and took the horse nearest to me, a sturdy brown mare. We trotted down the street toward the fire site. I patted her mane, sensing her exhaustion. “You did well.”
The center of the witch market, which had been full of color and life this very morning, was now dark and dilapidated. Charred piles took the place of buildings. The structures that managed to survive were burnt beyond recognition. Witches huddled in small groups. Some wandered around the rubble, looking for lost belongings.
I dismounted, letting the horse go back to take a well-deserved break and a drink of water. The air was dense and sooty as Maddox and I approached.
Pamela came over to us, a handkerchief over her nose.
