(title hidden — not yet read)

(summary hidden — not yet read)

Inside Maelport, a perimeter bell triggered by John's nanites rings out the moment the bait party crosses the gate. Ryan's soldiers strip the bows off the horse; Sefawynn and Thokk drop their heads and slip aside, ready to play refugee. Ealstan sights the archers gathering on the wall, swears, and follows the women out of view — up to something.

John pulls the P-330 and posts up by Ryan's men. He will not shoot at the local archers; that feels wildly unfair. He scans the crowd instead, and there she is — Janice Vault, running up through the refugees. She sees him and brings her gun up. He fires first. She drops in a spray of blood. He has been in firefights but he has never killed someone he knew before, and the speed of it unsettles him more than the act. He moves on autopilot — gets to her, blasts her pistol apart with antiplating rounds, puts more rounds into her chest. No disintegration flare in his kit, so destroying the weapon is the only insurance he has against her platings being more than her job grade suggested. She did not have full platings anyway — Janice was always low-tier.

Up on the wall, the local archers have decided not to draw the aelv's attention; their arrows fall around the merry-men instead. Ryan's crew take cover behind dropped refugee goods and trade fire with two archer platforms, one each side, while a knot of spearmen come out of a side street and the rest of the band swaps bows for axes and swords. Then a typhoon of Ealstan rips through one of the platforms — limbs off, bodies falling — and John grins. Then a stone explodes next to Ealstan's head. Modern, suppressed gunfire — hard to source by ear, but John guesses the building with the big window on his left, takes a shot at the window, shears off a chunk of wall, and the sniping on Ealstan stops.

The courtyard empties of civilians in heartbeats — even Sefawynn and Thokk are gone — leaving soldiers, arrows, and bodies. With one archer station cleared, the ground fight is roughly even. John worries Ealstan is making too good a target up there and starts working his way along the buildings toward where the shooter must be. *Down the path to your right,* a voice like rustling leaves says in his ear. *Between those two buildings. Coming this direction.* He gets into position, picks the figure up over the sights, finger taking the slack — and stops.

It is Quinn. The whole storm of feeling that goes with that man boils up at once: the squeezing fear, the cowering shame, the picture of Quinn standing over him in front of the EFL cameras smiling. *Oh. Uh, hey, Johnny.* John makes Quinn toss his pistol, then the backup in the leg holster — turned barrel-away — and vaporizes both with antiplating fire. (You do not pick up another operator's gun. Voice commands; very poor idea.) Quinn raises his hands and asks if John is going to shoot him.

It takes only a moment. Quinn let John go once before. They are both boxers. What would Tacy say. *I'm not going to shoot you,* John tells him. Quinn relaxes and asks if he can leave. *Nope. You're, uh, under arrest.* Quinn gives him a flat stare. John insists — Ryan is here, Ulric is going down, Quinn will go back through the portal with him; Quinn's lawyer Flannagan will get him a few months tops. Quinn complains, *no offense,* about the indignity of being arrested specifically by John.

Out in the courtyard, Ulric's remaining men are pulling back along the wall, heads down. The bell is still hammering away, but it looks suspiciously like the bait plan has not only worked, it has overperformed. John is uncertain. Press in to support Ryan, or fall back? Two of Ulric's augmented operators down — were there any others? Then Ealstan is running toward him, and Sefawynn is suddenly at his arm out of the alley Quinn came down, grim. She has followed the retreating soldiers across the city; they are not retreating, they are gathering on the oceanside walls. Ealstan reaches them panting and says the word. *Hordamen. They're here.*