Gail Martin - The summoner

"Dear Goddess Bright," Carroway breathed. "Jared's raised a coup!" Soterius was already at the door to the corridor, which hung broken and useless on its hinges.

Please, please no, Tris begged the Goddess as he reached Serae. Her body was still warm to the touch, still loose-limbed as he stifled a cry and rolled her to face him. The dagger that had ended her life protruded from her chest as her head lolled on Tris's arm. His throat tightened and his eyes swam as he listened in vain for a heartbeat. She's gone.

A sob tore from his throat as he cradled Serae, squeezing his eyes shut as unbidden tears streamed down his face. Gasping for breath, Tris dragged a sleeve across his eyes and scanned the room once more. He laid Serae's body gently on the floor, passed a hand across her staring eyes to close them, and whispered a prayer to the Lady. A groan startled Tris and Soterius wheeled, his sword drawn. Almost hidden among the shambles

of an overturned bed lay Kait. Tris and Carroway ran to her, shoving aside debris and the body of a fallen guardsman, and freed her from the tangle of blankets. Kait lay pale and still, her bloodstained tunic warning Tris not to expect too much.

"Kait, can you hear me?" Tris whispered, gathering her into his arms against his tunic stained with Serae's blood. Dark Lady, please, he begged silently. Not both of them. Please, spare her.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, as a spasm of pain crossed Kait's face. Her lips were tinged with blue, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her blood stained his hand, seeping between his fingers as he tried to compress the deep gash on her belly. There was too much damage for any but the most experienced battle healer, and no such healers at hand.

Kait's eyes opened. She focused, and managed a weak smile. "I knew you'd come, Tris. Are you dead,too?"

Tris stifled a sob, unashamed of the tears that streaked down his face. He struggled to find his voice as he shook his head. "No, Kaity," he managed to rasp. "At least, not yet. Neither are you."

"Soon. I've seen the Goddess. She's waiting."

"Who did this?" Tris urged as gently as he could, grasping her hand as if to bind her spirit closer.

Kait coughed, and blood flecked her lips. "Jared's men," she whispered. "They were waiting for us. I tried to protect Mother. You'd have been proud."

"I am proud," Tris whispered, blinking back tears.

"Should have seen me, big brother. I think I got one of them."

Tris glanced back at the guardsman's body. "You did, Kaity. You did."

"I've got to go."

"Kaity, stay with me!"

Her eyes opened wider. "Tris-you're here, too. Like grandma." She coughed harder, and Tris thought she was gone. "If you will it, I can stay," she murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. "I'll just take your hand on this side."

The image burned bright in Tris's mind as he clutched her to him, of Kait taking his hand and holding on. "With everything in his being, he willed it be so. Yet even as he struggled to hold on to the fleeting spirit, something else, something strong, struggled to pull her away.

Kait shuddered in his arms and went limp. Tris buried his head on her shoulder and wept, rocking on his heels, cradling her lifeless form.

Tris, you've got to go, the voice said in his mind, Kait's voice, far away. Tris looked up and frowned. Kait stood in front of him, real but insubstantial, with the same faint luminescence of the palace ghosts. "Kaity?" Tris rasped in a raw voice. The ghost shimmered. "You did it, Tris. You kept me here. You've got grandma's power," Kait said. The image wavered once more, nearly blinking out, and a look of distress, then fear crossed her face as her ghost appeared to be

pulled away, like smoke caught in a draft. "There's a spell on the palace ghosts. Arontala… Help me, Tris," she begged as her apparition disappeared.

It was Carroway's gasp that told Tris the apparition was visible to the others. Soterius looked shaken, never having seen Tris work any kind of magic. Carroway stared at the empty space where Kait's ghost had been, his ashen face witness that he had just seen far more powerful magecraft than he had ever expected of Tris. Gently, Tris laid Kait's body down among the blankets and covered her with a sheet.

"Before we join her, let's get out of here," the minstrel said gently.

Tris felt grief and shock throb through his body, filling him with rage. "Damn Jared!" he cried, lurching to his feet. His sword was already in hand as he started toward the hallway door at a dead run. Soterius blocked him.

"Let me go!" Tris grated. "Damn it, let me pass!" The blood pounded in his ears as he tried to fight his way past Soterius, who parried and drove him back from the doorway. Carroway tackled him from behind, taking him to the ground and struggling to wrest away his sword while Tris swung wildly with his free hand, blinded with tears and gasping for air. Soterius joined the fray, helping Carroway as he fought to keep Tris back from the door.

With a sharp flick of his blade, Soterius sent Tris's sword skittering out of reach, and lunged, pinning him against the floor. "You won't get within sight of Jared before his mage gigs you like a frog," Soterius snapped, struggling to keep his hold on Tris. "You can't help your mother or Kait. But you can still save Margolan by getting clear of here and coming back with an army of your own."

"And can we do it soon?" hissed Carroway, who had taken Soterius's watch at the door. Breathing hard, Tris closed his eyes and conceded defeat.

"Down the back stairs," Soterius returned, letting up on his grip and tossing Tris his fallen sword. "They come down in the servants' area. We'll run for the stables. Go."

They ran down the narrow back stairs and burst into the kitchen, swords drawn, terrifying the scullery maids who shrieked and ran from the room. Outside in the corridor, Tris heard the pounding of boot steps and, hard after it, the clang of steel. The doors from the feast hall banged open as three soldiers wearing the king's livery charged after two men who were fighting for their lives. Tris and the others flattened themselves against the side of the fireplace, cut off by the battle from their only escape. Tris had only the barest glimpse of the fighters, but he recognized one of the men on the defense as Harrtuck, a sergeant-at-arms, a stocky, barrel-chested man with a full dark beard and olive skin who often guarded Bricen.

"I'll not give up this palace without a fight!" Harrtuck swore as he dodged and parried. His companion, another of the king's guard, thrust

and scored. Tris and the others exchanged glances and raised their weapons. With a cry, both Tris and Soterius launched themselves into the fray beside Harrtuck, driving the attackers back by surprise.

"Nice to see you," Harrtuck panted, pressing their sudden advantage.

"Watch out!" Carroway shouted, and Tris whirled, blade ready, in time to see one of the guardsmen clasp his hands to his chest in surprise and slowly topple to the floor. A growing red stain surrounded Carroway's dagger, hilt deep between the man's ribs.

With a cry, Tris engaged the dead man's partner. "You'll soon be as dead as the king," the soldier taunted, driving Tris back a step. Engulfed by grief and rage, Tris struck back with all his might, wielding his sword with a two-handed grip. Startled by the ferocity of Tris's attack, the traitor fell back, then pressed forward again, a murderous gleam in his eyes as three more guards raced in to join him. Out of the corner of his eye, Tris saw Carroway grab a torch stand as a staff to hold off one of their attackers. Soterius and Harrtuck focused on the other two newcomers, leaving Tris to circle the grinning guard in a deadly dance of swordplay.

A burst of red light exploded in the fireplace, and Tris lunged forward, recognizing one of Carroway's parlor tricks. It was just enough of a distraction for him to slip inside the soldier's guard and drive his blade home. The guard sagged forward, and Tris staggered as the dying man's weight nearly wrenched his sword from his grip. A glint of steel in the firelight was the only warning Tris had as a new opponent dove forward, scything a dagger in one hand as Tris parried the guardsman's sword. Tris staggered as the guard sank his dagger into Tris's side. The guard arched and stiffened, dropping to his knees as his hands clawed at his back, revealing a shiv in his back and Carroway standing with grim satisfaction over the dying traitor.