Blackthorn shook his head, which had clouded. "No," he murmured. "There must be a way. A compromise. Perhaps some sort of legislation—I do not know." He straightened himself. "For the moment, it does not matter. Today, we will meet with the advisors sent by Lord Malone and Sir Simon, who are both here in the city. As I said, they are willing to abide by our decree that Lord British is not lost—"

Saduj cleared his throat. "My Lord, there is a matter of which I must speak. I apologize for not saying anything sooner, but I only became convinced of the facts this morning. Councilor Windemere travels to the Great Council with dire news. He—"

Blackthorn's cloak ruffled with a sudden breeze. "Behind thee!" Suturb cried, jumping to his feet, crossbow raised and armed. He aimed in Blackthorn's direction, and fired, even as a voice behind Blackthorn spoke, "Vas Flam!"

From over Blackthorn's shoulder, a missile of flame roared, engulfing first the crossbow bolt, then the weapon and hand from whence the bolt came. Flame, wood, and flesh splintered in a brilliant burst. His arms flung wide, his glove trailing smoke, Surturb screamed as the impact slammed him back into the tower wall. He collapsed not far from the window.

Blackthorn spun as the other fighters in the room threw back their chairs and drew weapons, but Blackthorn held them at bay with a quick gesture. Before him rose a man garbed in ominous, dark robes. "Flain!" Blackthorn said to the mage. "What art thou doing here?"

"I have learned of treachery," the mage spoke softly. "Thou must leave immediately—" His eyes narrowed and peered at the window when several, soft peals of thunder sounded outside. "In Sanct Grav," he quickly spoke, pointing his staff at the floor between Blackthorn and the window. The air above the stone sparked, swirled, then a wall of crackling energy the height of the room sprang upward, separating Blackthorn, Dryden, and the mage from the others. Not an instant later, the chamber beyond the barrier exploded.

The stonework framing the window, first on the left, followed quickly on the right, bulged inward, then blew apart in two deafening bursts of flame and smoke, engulfing Moragwain and her scream. Deadly fragments of stone, glass, wood and mortar decimated the chamber, bouncing harmlessly off the wall of energy that the mage had summoned, but shearing into anything else, including flesh and bone.

The screams of Blackthorn's remaining captains shattered the air. Through their cries, bells pealed, followed by distant shouts of alarm. "Flain!" Blackthorn called. He could barely see the mage through the smoke and flames, though the mage stood less than a few feet away. "Flain! What has happened?"

"The ships off the coast," said the mage. "They have fired their cannons upon this tower. They will do so again unless I intervene." He raised his staff and spoke. "In Grav Por!" A whirlwind of smoke and dust rose from floor to ceiling when the wizard disappeared.

"Too late," said Dryden, who cowered between Blackthorn and the energy barrier, as several more booms echoed in the distance. The judge peered up at Blackthorn, eyes wide and frightened through skin smeared with soot. "By the Virtues," he whispered. "The chamber downstairs, near where the men of Lord Malone and Sir Simon wait—" The tower rumbled and shook when the cannonballs hit the walls below. "'Tis a storeroom filled with powder kegs."

The floor heaved, buckled, then cracked down the middle as the chamber below detonated. Ghaland, who was pulling himself from a pile of rubble, disappeared in a geyser of flame. It lifted one side of the enormous table, just as a portion of the ceiling collapsed upon the opposite side. The table snapped like a twig, and splinters of yew wood joined the rain of ash and rubble. The floor beneath Blackthorn slid forward. The barrier of energy wavered, shivered, disappeared. Yet Blackthorn made no move, simply watched the crumbling tower wall unveil the ocean brick by brick. The sea and its horizon slowly ascended as Blackthorn, Dryden and the chamber dipped forward. In the distance, the ships that had fired upon Jhelom's northeastern tower rocked upon the waves, the sails of one engulfed in a pillar of flame. No doubt Flain's handiwork.