Crassus took it, and then said quietly, “I could report this to the captain.”

“And I could suddenly remember that there are no stairs around here,” Tavi replied without rancor. “But I think we’ve both wasted enough effort for tonight.”

Crassus bounced the empty purse on his palm a few times, then pocketed it. “Maybe I should have just asked you for it.”

Tavi grimaced, and said, “Sorry about your, uh, your face. “

Crassus shook his head. “My own fault. I jumped you. Hit you first.” He touched his nose lightly and winced. “Where’d you learn that throw?”

“From a Marat,” Tavi replied. “Come on. I’m already late. And we’ll both be needed tonight.”

Crassus nodded, and they started walking.

They hadn’t gone twenty paces when the brightest dance of scarlet fire Tavi had yet seen in the glowering overcast rushed from one horizon to the other and back again, rippling back and forth like some vast and unthinkably swift wave.

“Crows,” Tavi said softly, staring up at the display.

And then the night was torn with blinding white light and a wall of thunder that smashed against Tavi in a sonic tsunami, staggering him, almost robbing him of his balance. He managed to steady Crassus when the young man began to fall. It lasted for a bare heartbeat, then the thunderous sound vanished into a high-pitched ringing tone in his ears, while the flashing streak of light remained burned into his blinded eyes, shifting colors slowly against the blackness.

It took several moments for his eyes to readjust to the night, and even longer for his ears to stop ringing. His instincts screaming, he hurried forward as fast as he could, to return to the town and the legion’s fortification there. Sir Crassus, his expression somewhat dazed, followed along.

Fires burned in the fortifications. Tavi could hear the screams of wounded men and terrified horses. There were shouts and cries all around them, and confusion ran rampant.

Tavi reached the captain’s command tent and stopped in his tracks, stunned.

Where Cyril’s command had been, there was now a great, gaping hole torn in the blackened earth. Fires burned in patches all around it. Bodies-and pieces of bodies-lay scattered in the ruins.

Overhead, the thunder from the unnatural storm rumbled in what sounded to Tavi like hungry anticipation.

“Scipio!” shouted a frantic voice, and Tavi turned to find Max running forward through the chaos.

“What happened?” Tavi asked, his voice shocked.

“Lightning.” Max panted. He had lost half of one eyebrow, singed away by the head, and there were blisters on the skin of his forehead and along one cheekbone. “A crowbegotten wall of lightning. Came down like a hammer, not twenty feet away.” Max stared at the ruins. “Right on top of the captain’s meeting.”

“Great furies,” Tavi breathed.

“Foss and the healers are with some survivors, but it doesn’t look good for them.” He swallowed. “As far as we can tell, you’re the only officer able to serve.”

Tavi stared at Max. “What do you mean?”

Max looked at the results of the lightning strike grimly and said, “I mean that you are now in command of the First Aleran, Captain Scipio. ‘