“Let me help you, Hallie Talbot,” Emmet said. She could feel his presence and somehow, through him, Cotovatre and beyondthat another two people. Dimmer, weaker, but still there. Her ancestor, thesinisirand the other two together lifted some of the weight of the shield from her, holding the metal in place. As the metal came to a halt, Cotovatre’s magic did its work, cooling it down, enough that the river stopped trying to flow, dammed up by the solid end. The shield cooled as well, adding to Cotovatre’s power until the river slowly, slowly, turned back into solid metal. Beyond the end of it, Hallie could sense there were still some super-heated parts. But they were cooling, too, held back behind the solid dam formed by the metal wall. Relief made her light-headed. The worst of it was contained.
“That’s enough,” Cotovatre said, her voice trembling. “Enough. Hallie, do you hear me? The metal is contained. You can drop the shield.”
Hallie muttered something in response and let go of the magic, sliding helplessly to lie on the step, blind eyes staring up. Thezauberin her pocket was almost gone, its presence the faintest flicker. She panicked, thinking it was dying, but received a brief snort of derision in response. Not gone. Just depleted. So she concentrated on trying to breathe in the sticky, hot air, the taste of metal in her nose and mouth.
As she lay, just breathing, she could hear furious voices shouting all around her and some quiet, heartfelt sobbing. More than one person had died. Not just Mel and the Conclave member Hallie had seen die. Others, too. Sadness weighted her chest along with a stab of guilt and more than a little irritation as she realised a lot of the shouting was being directed at Peredur, blaming him for the deaths and the mess they were in.
“Gentlemen, do you really think now is the best time for this?” Peredur’s voice cut through the air. There was no deference in it at all. Hallie heard a couple of sharp intakes of breath and felt a dark smile pull at her lips. The director had been careful to play politics up to this point, but she had a feeling that theConclave was about to meet the true Peredur for the first time - a highly competent investigator and someone with little patience for games. “We need to get everyone to safety. Head towards the side door now.”
More muttering.
“I said now.” Peredur’s voice lashed through the room. “Move now, if you want to live.”
“We will not be spoken to in this way.” The voice was clear, full of self-importance and Hallie thought it belonged to the florid-faced man. Nanters Gable. Yes, that fit what she’d observed of the man.
“Here, a little healing.” Emmet’s voice, close to Hallie, distracted her from whatever Peredur said next. Emmet’s cool fingers rested on her wrist, sending a soft wave of magic through her, washing away the burning of her skin, letting her breathe more easily. She managed to blink, restoring her sight, and sat up slowly, every part of her sore and stiff.
“Drink this,” Girard said. He was kneeling at her side and held out one of the energy drinks she was becoming familiar with. She took it without complaint. “Well done,” he added.
Hallie made a noise in response, she wasn’t quite sure to what purpose.
“You saved us. They might not realise it,” Girard said, tilting his head back to indicate the arguing Conclave members, “but if you hadn’t held the metal back, we’d all be dead right now.”
Hallie shivered, abruptly cold at the idea. She took another drink from him, grimacing at the cloying sweetness, but she knew she needed the energy. She became aware of another two Conclave members sitting on the step below her, heads in their hands as if they were exhausted and in pain.
“Lady Cotovatre said that they helped hold the shield,” Girard explained, following the direction of her gaze. “She said that they are the most powerful magic users on the Conclave, apartfrom her.” He turned back to Hallie and covered her hand with his. “And she also said that you and Emmet are easily twice as powerful as she is. It took all of you to hold the metal back.”
Hallie just nodded, letting the information mix with everything else that was tumbling about in her brain. There were gaps in there. Pieces that didn’t fit. Things that didn’t make sense. But she was sure of one thing.
“Someone just tried to kill the Conclave,” Hallie said, voice low and harsh.
“Someone almost succeeded in killing the Conclave,” Cotovatre corrected, settling on the step beside Hallie, her movements graceful and sure despite the tiredness Hallie could see on her face. She had taken off her heavy robe to reveal a slim-fitting, knee-length tunic and trousers in deep green with comfortable, low-heeled boots.
“We really should be moving, my lady,” Girard said gently.
“I agree. But also, while I deeply admire and respect and even like a good many of my colleagues, they are not going to move until they have all had a chance to say their piece,” Cotovatre said, with a wry smile. “Unless there is any more danger. And right now, there are no other immediate threats.”
“What about Rojas and Frollo and the others?” Hallie asked, worry gripping her. She could see everyone in the Conclave chamber, but the tac team had been outside, securing an exit for the Conclave members.
“Jasper is trying to contact them,” Girard said, and couldn’t hide his concern. “Phones and radios aren’t working, nor are the internal lines. We don’t have communication with anywhere else inside or outside the building.”
“That’s not good,” Hallie said, and immediately felt foolish for stating the obvious. Neither Girard nor Cotovatre seemed to mind. With a sick, twisting feeling in her stomach, which was not due to the sweet drinks, she turned her attention back to thechamber floor where Peredur was facing off against half a dozen Conclave members.
The Conclave members were all talking over each other, in louder and louder and angrier and angrier tones and Hallie could barely make out the occasional word. The only one of the group that she was at all familiar with was Ulfiam Vargas, and he seemed equally irritated with his fellow Conclave members as with Peredur, if his sideways glares were any measure.
Unable to follow that argument, Hallie’s attention drifted around the room.
She saw Lamorat sitting on one of the benches at the far side of the chamber, close to the windows, with two dark-cladhochlenshe recognised as his aides from their visit to Vertiger. They were not talking, rather they seemed to be waiting for the argument to resolve itself.
There was a huddle of Conclave members at one side of the table, and she spotted Hoel Buchanan’s distinctive blond hair. He seemed to have pulled Tristram Jacobs into his orbit, along with the florid-faced man. Nanters. She found it interesting that Nanters was not part of the group shouting at Peredur. She also found it interesting that, from the way everyone was standing, Hoel seemed to be in charge of that particular group.
Some of the aides were sitting together on one of the benches and the surrounding steps, and it looked like they were consoling each other. Perhaps they had worked for the Conclave members who had died. Or perhaps they had just been understandably terrified by the explosion and river of molten metal flowing towards them.
On that thought, Hallie looked back across the room and made a mental tally. At least five Conclave members were dead or missing. For a group that had held twenty-three that morning, that was a significant number of losses.
Then she noted that a couple of Conclave members and their aides had made their way across to the exit Peredur had pointed out, along with Dudon and one of the other investigators. They seemed to be having some difficulty with the door, which sharpened her focus and attention. She knew she didn’t have the patience or skill to deal with politics, but she might be able to help open a door. She struggled to get to her feet, body sluggish and slow to respond, and headed up the steps to the top level, making her way around to the door. Girard came with her.
“Is it stuck?” she asked Dudon as she approached. He was the one working on the door.
