The letter was addressed to Saul Burton.

  His eyes raced across the brief lines of elegant, handwritten script.

  “We acknowledge your claim as a worldmaker, Mister Burton. However, we have been advised that your collusion with exiles makes you a danger to the stability of Hidria. Please find enclosed a full account of your case and the withdrawal of your right to appeal.

  “Regretful, as you are a skilled maker, you are now to be considered one of the earth-born. Truly, there is no accounting for temperament such as yours.”

  “Sincerely…”

  Saul scowled at the letter where five worldmakers had signed their names. The last on the list made his stomach seem to collapse in on itself. Delilah Ursula Reed. His own mother had signed off on his execution. To be an exile with knowledge such as his was far beyond grounds for guardians to take action to kill him. He swallowed and held the letter back in one shaking hand.

  “We acknowledge your claim,” he said aloud. “We acknowledge your claim.”

  Olivia looked at him with worry written on her face. The wind whistled through the crack in the door near them. She shivered.

  Saul glared at the letter. Everything turned dull gray compared to the vicious rage building in his mind. “We acknowledge your claim. However. However… Those pompous shits!”

  “Saul, get a grip,” said Olivia. She snatched the letter from his hand. He grunted at her in annoyance.

  Her gaze flew down the page. Her lips moved as she finished the body of the letter. She looked up at Saul. “What does this really mean?”

  “It means we’re all in this together.” Saul tried to fold is hands, but his fingers could not contain the earthquake of his fury. “That bastard Simon just added me to his hit list, and it’s all legal.”

  Olivia frowned at the letter. “But they acknowledged your claim? So you’re a worldmaker?”

  “If I can survive long enough to find my world, perhaps. Shit. Shit.”

  She approached him cautiously and reached out. Her hand settled on his shoulder. “This doesn’t change much.”

  “Damn it, Olivia. No one from Hidria will work with me now. I’ve got no friends left.” He shook like a tree in a storm, but her hand remained on his shoulder. He scowled down at the floor.

  “Don’t say that.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’ve still got at least one.”

  He looked up from his clay-stained smock. “Olivia.” The temper began to subside.

  “Saul.” Her lips curved upward, just slightly, at the corners. “We fought them before.”

  “And we’ll go on fighting,” said Saul. His fists clenched but his rage sank deeper into the sea of his mind. “You’re right. This doesn’t change much.”

  Her smile grew a little. “We’ve got more experience being outlaws anyway.”

  He nodded to her and felt a smirk form on his own face. “Also true.” He looked at her hand on his shoulder. “We need a plan, and we need to bring the others into it.”

  “This changes what they need to know?”

  “Indeed. I cannot see how any of us can survive both the gern and 1the guardians if we don’t stand together.” His eyes narrowed. “First of, all we need to find out how Simon has children who can control exiles.”

  “We still need to stop Apahar,” she said.

  “Yes, but if there is anyone the makers hate more than the earth-born, it is the gern.”

  “Sounds like you already have an idea. You want to set them against each other?”

  “It’s an idea we should consider.” He turned toward the workshop. “I’m glad you trust me.”

  She withdrew her hand and folded her arms. “Hey, you trusted me first. That’s what got you into this mess.”

  He grinned at her. “Worth it.”

  They walked into the workshop.

  * * *

  The room was silent for a moment as Saul finished explaining the situation.

  Irene looked at her black socks, lips pursed, but apparently speechless. Evidently, she had not expected such a condemnation, but surely she realized it meant she could rule the wandering world alone if she could find it. Opportunity combined with frustration mingled with regret. If she had a temper tree like Saul’s back on Hidria it would be a sight to behold in that moment. As it was, he could scarcely guess what she would do next.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Morrie sank down into one of the chairs beside the place where Bantos had stood before his completion. He muttered, “Perfect,” under his breath.

  Rult hissed softly.

  Bantos growled. “Cowardice,” he said.

  Nat shivered and pressed closer to Saul’s neck under his collar.

  Cecilia paced back and forth, arms folded. “What do we do?” She looked warily at Saul and Olivia.

  “We fight,” said Olivia. “This only ups the price if we lose.”

  “Not quite true.” Irene raised her head and brushed strands of black hair from her face. “Even if we defeat Simon, they will send another guardian, maybe more than one. The forces of Hidria are vast.”

  “Suppose you’re right,” said Olivia. “We still can’t just give up.”

  “True,” said Irene. “But we need a better plan than just fighting one guardian.”

  “Saying ‘we’ now,” said Morrie in a low voice. “But you don’t have a death sentence.” He looked pointedly at Irene. “I can’t even figure out why you’re here.”

  The student obviously did not realize he should be at least as afraid of Irene as he was of Simon’s Children. She raised her eyebrows at him, then shook her head. “It’s not your business.”

  “Until yesterday I didn’t know anything. Now, my friends and I are fighting for our lives.”

  “You mean your friends are trying to kill you. Two of these controlled exiles know you.” She tipped a hand toward Cecilia.

  The girl’s face reddened. “Shut up! It’s not my fault what’s happening.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Irene.

  Saul grunted. “For that matter, neither do you, Irene. All we know is Simon found a way to use art-children to control human bodies. I’ve never encountered children like this.”

  Irene shook her head. “Neither have I. But most guardians don’t have the time to do research into creating new forms.”

  “He’s a member of the Cardwynn family,” Saul said. “Who knows what trade secrets he learned from them.”

  “Good point,” said Irene. “Who else are we dealing with here?”

  “She said her name was Abigail Creek.” Saul walked down the room to the spot beneath the chandelier where he had brought Bantos to life in the dark hours. “She’s a worldmaker.”

  “I’ve heard of her.” Irene frowned at him. “She was known for strong teamwork as a challenger. I would bet her personal art-children aren’t her only protection, given the situation.”

  “Wait,” said Cecilia.

  Irene glanced at the flushed student. One eyebrow arched.

  Cecilia clutched her temple and inhaled deeply. “I feel faint.”

  Morrie climbed out of his chair and rushed to Cecilia’s side. He took her arm to support her just as her knees buckled.

  Saul and Olivia closed the distance. Cecilia sank to the floor with a moan, pulling Morrie into a sitting position beside her. Her head shook. She pulled away from Morrie and then pitched to one side. Unbound red hair flew across her face.

  “What’s going on?” Morrie glanced at Saul, then turned and scrambled across the floor. He slipped his hands under Cecilia’s head and cradled her gently. She spasmed again, then shuddered onto her back, face covered by a curtain of her hair. Olivia dropped into a crouch beside her and brushed the hair back from Cecilia’s face.

  A white, feathered mask lay exposed. Saul realized in that moment Cecilia now wore a white cloak. He grabbed Olivia’s arm and pulled her to one side. She cried in pain at his tug, then slipped and fell onto her back. Eagle’s slender sword appeared in Cecilia’s hand.

  Saul staggered and released Olivia’s arm. Bad to worse. Shit. Shit.

  He shot a glare at Morrie. “Get away from her, kid.”

  Morrie looked up at Saul in surprise and horror. Eagle’s sword thrust toward his chest. Rult’s taphic arm cracked out like an invisible whip and deflected the rapier blade. The point slashed across Morrie’s shoulder, opening a tear in his rumpled shirt and drawing a red line through the skin beneath.

  The student’s eyes widened and he gasped in pain. He released Cecilia’s head and fell backward onto the wooden dance floor of the workshop. A thin stream of blood trailed down his shirt.

  Olivia grunted and got up. Her eyes fixed on Eagle.

  Saul looked around for a weapon. His gaze dropped to the pocket of his smock, where an oven rod protruded. He reached for it.

  Eagle surged to her feet. Blue eyes gleamed through the openings in her white mask. She whirled toward Saul, blade in a guard position. “Orders. Finally. Time to finish you.”

  Saul and Olivia backed away from Eagle. He pulled the oven rod from his smock. “It’s what, six against one here?” He smirked at Eagle. “I like our odds.”

  “You and your luck. Crow said you seemed like a gambler.” Eagle took a step toward Saul and Olivia. Her eyes flicked toward his oven rod, a small one, only four or five inches long. “I’m armed. You aren’t.”

  “So you had a chance to talk to Crow? When was that?”

  The cold blue gaze moved from Saul to Olivia, then flicked toward Irene. Behind Eagle, Rult prowled quietly toward Morrie. His taph arm reached out and he grabbed the wounded student and began to drag him sideways, out of the fray. Good, Saul thought. I can’t be worried about him once the real fight begins.

  Eagle backed away from Saul and the others. Bantos stepped up on Saul’s left. He sneered at Eagle. “Four stand against you.”

  “Ah, the newborn,” said Eagle with audible disdain. “Understand, I would not measure your powers against mine if I were you.”

  “Bantos,” said Saul. “Get the passage blade.” He pointed at the table where the slender length of the broken gern weapon still lay. “You’ll know what to do with it.”

  Bantos gave no sound of acknowledgment but leaped toward the table.

  “No, you don’t!” Eagle gave a high, shriek and bounded past Saul toward the Cyclops, sword raised to strike.

  Bantos reached the passage blade just as another bird-like cry answered Eagle. Saul recognized Hush’s voice.

  Saul’s ears rang with the combined sound of Hush and Eagle’s rage. He barreled into Eagle’s side. She swung off balance before she could reach the cyclops. With another piercing sound of dismay, Eagle swung her hips and sent Saul rolling to the floor on her other side.

  Irene pulled back the curtains from the front window, closely followed by a chill and then the rush of wings. Brilliant light flooded the room, blinding Saul, and hopefully Eagle as well. Shadows provided by unfinished sculptures gave him points to navigate in the white glare. He got to his feet.

  Irene stepped in, her dark shadow cast long across the ballroom floor from the open window at her back. Steel rang against steel. He turned as he heard Eagle’s light footsteps dance backward. Saul’s eyes adjusted as Eagle raced toward the back window of the house.

  She drew a bow and sent arrows through the window in rapid succession. Such speed and power. They were lucky to have kept her off-balance.

  The pane of glass shattered and fell apart with a crash and more light. She pulled aside the curtain, spilling more light on the floor, and then leaped. She disappeared through the broken window.

  Saul sighed with relief and felt the rush of adrenaline begin to subside. Too soon.

  Morrie was on his feet, running after her, one hand clutched to his torn shirt.

  Saul raised a hand toward the student. “Stop, kid. Wait.”

  There was no way Morrie had not heard him, but he did not listen. His coat fell across the jagged glass at the bottom of the broken window. He climbed out, chasing after Eagle.

  Shit on all of this. Saul gripped his oven rod tighter. He went after them.