Then the luxin hardened in its shape, which was as much like a condor's wings as Gavin had been able to manage. The wings caught the air, and Karris and Gavin shot into the sky.

The first time Gavin had attempted it, he'd tried to hold one wing in each hand. He'd learned then why birds have hollow bones and weigh almost nothing. The lift had nearly torn his arms off. He'd gone home wet, bruised, and angry, with most of the muscles in his arms and chest torn. By making the condor all one piece instead, he'd taken away the need for muscle at all. The whole thing flew on the strength and flexibility of the luxin, speed, and wind.

Of course, it didn't really fly. It glided. He'd tried to use the reeds, but it hadn't worked so far. For the time being, the condor had a limited range.

Karris wasn't complaining. She was wide-eyed. "Gavin! Orholam, Gavin, we're flying!" She laughed, carefree. He'd always loved that about her. Her laughter was freedom for both of them. She'd forgotten about the dance. That made it worth it.

"Get in the middle," he said. He didn't have to shout. They were completely inside the body of the condor. There was no wind. "I'm not very good at turning; mostly I lean one way or the other." Indeed, because he was heavier, they were already turning toward his side. Together, they leaned toward her side until the condor straightened.

"The White doesn't know about this, does she?" Karris asked.

"Only you," he said. "Besides…"

"No one else could do the drafting required," Karris finished for him.

"Galib and Tarkian are probably the only polychromes who could handle all the colors necessary, and neither of them is fast enough. If I can make it easy enough for other drafters, I might tell her."

"Might?"

"I've been thinking about the ways this could be used. In war, mostly. The Seven Satrapies already fight and scheme over the few polychromes there are. This would make it a hundred times worse."

"Is that Garriston?" she said abruptly, looking north and west. "Already?"

"The real question is whether you want to crash onto land or into the water," Gavin said.

"Crash?"

"I'm not very good at landing yet, and with so much extra weight-"

"Excuse me?" Karris said.

"What? I haven't tried flying with a manatee aboard either, I'm just-"

"You did not just compare me to a sea cow." Her expression made ice look warm.

"No! It's just that all the extra weight…" What is it you're supposed to do when you're in a hole? Oh. "Um." He cleared his throat.

She grinned suddenly, dimples flashing. "After all this time, Gavin, I still get you." She laughed.

He laughed ruefully, but the pain went deep. And I still don't get you. Maybe she would have been happy with Dazen.

It felt like years before Kip reached the bridge post. He paused, looking back toward the drafters as Sanson caught up with him. The master was still striking his apprentice, who'd curled into a ball, screaming. They definitely hadn't seen Kip or Sanson, but they were also turned toward them, and if they looked up, the bridge post wasn't big enough to hide both boys.

The bridge groaned, and Kip looked up. The opposite post, on the island side, was aflame, and the animals were pushing away from it, but too scared to go back into town, which was also burning. That pushed them against the rail directly above the boys-and against the gap in the rail the horse had made-mere paces to their left.

Half a dozen rats splashed into the water, kicked by the other animals. Each of them began swimming in a different direction, including several right at the boys.

Kip's stomach knotted in visceral fear. It was ridiculous that a rat should freeze him while two drafters didn't-but he hated rats. Hated hated hated them. Sanson yanked on his sleeve, pulling him away. Kip launched off the post, splashing awkwardly. He turned back, making sure none of the rats latched onto his clothes. His eyes flicked up to the apprentice drafter Zymun, the boy's head tucked between his arms as his master beat him. But then Zymun stiffened.

Zymun shouted something and stood, and his master stopped hitting him. Kip got his first good look at the boy. He couldn't have been more than a year older than Kip, with unruly black hair, dark eyes, and a wide, fleshy mouth curved into a triumphant grin. Even in the moment Kip saw him, Zymun's and his master's skin were filling with red, the swirls like smoke being inhaled, but then compacted until it filled their bodies.

Kip turned and swam as hard as he could. There was one metal screen in front of the waterfall to keep boats or swimmers from going over, and a dock and stairs next to it. Sanson was already to the screen, more than ten paces ahead of Kip.

After a few more hard strokes, Kip glanced back. The bridge and the jostling animals blocked much of his view of the two drafters, but as he looked, he saw the master run a few quick steps forward. He jumped, spread his arms wide, and slapped his hands together. A shimmering ball of red luxin formed between his hands, and as they slapped together it rocketed forward. The drafter was blasted back by the force of what he'd thrown, but still landed on his feet.

The ball caught fire in midair, right before it plowed through the animals on the bridge. Sheep, horses, and pigs exploded in every direction, body parts flying. Wild shrieks filled the air, sounding almost human. The burning missile tore off the railing and blasted a chunk out of the middle of the bridge itself, and then it streaked over Kip's head with a fiery roar and smashed the wood stairs above the dock. Kip didn't think the drafter had missed, and for a moment he thought the man was trying to trap them.

The drawbridge cracked, and all the animals on it stumbled toward the sagging middle.

Now Zymun ran forward. He slapped red hand to red hand, but this time Kip couldn't even see the ball of luxin-because it wasn't aimed at him. One moment, Zymun was falling back, completely bowled over from the force of what he had thrown, and the next, the entire wood bridge exploded.

Flames and blood and spinning, detached body parts leapt into the sky. One great flaming section of the bridge streaked toward Kip, tumbling and filling his vision. It hit the water beside him with a great hissing splash.

When Kip could see again, he was pressed against the metal screen in front of the waterfall, surrounded by scraps and shards of wood, some sections still burning, one great section of the bridge slowly sinking, and hundreds of rats, some burnt to charcoal, others wounded, others simply wet, but all the living desperate to get out of the water. The larger animals hadn't been blown so far by the explosion, but they were coming, thrashing, kicking, splashing, biting each other in their fear and pain.

"Kip! Climb over! We've almost made it!" Sanson shouted. He was already on the other side of the metal screen.

"Don't move!" the older drafter shouted. His skin was already filling with red swirls. "Don't move or the next one's coming for your head!"

Kip grabbed the screen, but as soon as his hands touched it, he felt little claws scratching on his legs, then more on his back. He froze. Rats. First one or two, then half a dozen.

His eyes clamped shut as he felt the claws scramble onto his neck, and then over his head. In holding on to the screen, his body had become a bridge-the only way out of the water-and the rats swarmed him.

In moments, it wasn't half a dozen rats. It was hundreds.

Kip's muscles locked. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. He didn't dare even open his eyes. Rats were in his hair. A rat had fallen down the front of his shirt and was clawing his chest. Rats were running up his arms.