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Asami wielded their magic, while pretending to cower against a wall. A last guard made a break for the door but Mai’s wooden horse flew across the room and struck him in the head, sending him tumbling limply to the floor.
    ‘Is that all?’ Sendatsu was covered in blood, none of it his own.
    They looked around wildly, at the screaming wounded, the silent dead and the merely unconscious.
    ‘Hanto! Where is he?’ Asami cried.
    ‘And the scroll — where is it?’ Sumiko shouted.
    Sendatsu looked around quickly, could see neither — and realised Hanto must have taken it and run out the back. The knowledge of what he had just done slammed into him and he almost fell to the ground and vomited. What had he been thinking? He had not been thinking — thanks to his father’s training he had reacted instinctively, dealing with every threat and offering no mercy. All his life he had trained — never had he drawn his sword for real. Now he had used it, he was horrified by what he had done. Horrified … and yet exultant. He had been unstoppable, triumphant! Part of him wanted to roar that to the skies. But the greater part was shocked and afraid. Now not even his father might be able to get him out of this … and then he remembered Hanto’s words about his orders and wondered what his father had planned. His father already thought him a disappointment. Had he intended to remove Sendatsu and focus his attention on Cheijun?
    The room stank of blood and dead men’s bowels — now Sendatsu could also smell fear. His own.
    ‘Come on, we have to get out of here, before they send more,’ Asami cried.
    ‘Hanto — should we not chase him? He only has one arm he can use …’
    The sound of a galloping horse in the street outside told them it was too late.
    ‘Go to your house. Take Sendatsu, wait for my instructions. We can still find a way out of this,’ Sumiko ordered.
    ‘But surely they will come for us there …’ Asami began.
    ‘I should go to my father, blame it all on Hanto, say he exceeded his orders and sent his men to attack me, forcing me to defend myself,’ Sendatsu interrupted.
    Sumiko bent over and picked up Hanto’s parchment, dropped when Sendatsu had broken his arm.
    ‘It may be too late for that,’ she said as she scanned it.
    ‘Why? What does it say?’ They hurried to her side.
    ‘Bring me the scroll. Let nothing stop you. Use whatever force necessary,’ Sumiko read sadly. ‘I don’t think your father will believe Hanto overstepped his orders.’
    ‘I did not mean this to happen,’ Sendatsu mumbled, trying not to look at the elves bleeding to death where his children had been playing only a few turns of the hourglass ago. ‘What am I going to do? How can I explain this? To kill a Council Guard is a sentence of death!’ he groaned.
    ‘You should clean up while we think,’ Asami suggested.
    Sendatsu hurriedly washed, his mind in a whirl, and changed, naturally strapping on his sword. After a moment he picked up his bow and a bag of arrows, just in case. He splashed water on his face, forced himself to think of a way out of this.
    ‘I have decided what to do,’ he announced as he strode back into the room. ‘I shall throw myself on my father’s mercy, do whatever he wants, even if it means spending my days threatening fishermen and farmers, bullying officials to bring him more power and wealth …’
    ‘You can’t do that,’ Asami said firmly. ‘It would destroy you.’
    ‘It is the only way,’ he insisted, then realised they were alone. ‘Where is Sumiko?’
    ‘She had to leave — it was too risky for her to be seen with you. The Magic-weavers must be protected. Come, we have to get you away from here. They will be back here any time. We should go to my house.’
    ‘Why have you not joined Sumiko and left?’
    ‘Because there are some things that are more important.’ She grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the door and down to the next corner.
    ‘I need to send a message to