Rosethorn's fine brows slanted down in a scowl. "I heard a boom, yes. I didn't feel a thing."
"Something's happened to Daja," Sandry told her. "Where is she?"
"She and Frostpine went out an hour ago," Rosethorn snapped. "And I had just gone back to sleep."
"What's the ruckus?" Lark enquired from her room.
"They think something happened to Daja," called Rosethorn.
"She's all right," Briar said. "But something big's happening, and she cut us off."
Sandry had an idea. Returning to her room, she went to the shelf on which she kept her green spindle. Next to it was a circle of thread with four equally spaced lumps in it. During the recent earthquake, she had fixed her power and that of her friends to this thread, spinning magics like wool and silk, making them stronger. When they were done, the thread had become a circle. Now she picked it up, closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the lumps, stopping at the one that cast the image of a forge-fire in her mind. She strained to enter the lump, Daja's knot, knowing it should help her to see what was happening to her friend. The power was there, but the images it made in her mind were ghosts that vanished before she knew what they were.
"Briar?" she called, without opening her eyes. "Tris?"
"How did she know I was out here?" grumbled Tris hoarsely.
"I think they heard you crash down the steps at the Hub," Rosethorn said drily.
A rough hand closed over the one in which Sandry cupped Daja's thread-lump. Green light played over the inside of Sandry's eyelids. "What are we doing?" asked Briar.
"I think we can talk to Daja, or at least know what's going on. We just need to reach..."
He fed his magic into hers without a thought. It was far easier than something normal like going to sleep - which for Briar always meant triple-checks of hidden weapons, one more pat for the miniature tree on his windowsill, a check of the food stashed under his pillow and in his clothes-chest. His magic wanted to combine with Sandry's. Intertwined, they strained - reaching along a thread of light that led towards a distant copper sun - and fell short.
A third, small, nail-bitten hand was laid over his and Sandry's. With Tris they weren't reaching. They were there inside the copper blaze that was Daja in this use of their power. Now they saw as vividly through her eyes as they saw through their own.
Ranks of ships, war-galleys and smaller fighting craft, under a blood-red banner, were ranged behind a double chain that shone like white fire. Two round black balls arced up and away from catapults, one targeted on the Harbourmaster's Tower, the other against the Tombstone. Each struck: flashes, roars, smoke. There was no way to see where the one aimed at the Tombstone's watchtower hit. The other ball missed the Harbourmaster's Tower, dropping behind to hit something.
The roar, the flash: a war-galley that flew the banner of the Emelan Duke appeared, its invisibility gone. Its crew was screaming; a vast, fiery hole bloomed in its deck, and there were bodies everywhere.
Horrified, the three at Winding Circle yanked out of their joined hold. Sandry and Briar stared at each other with wide, frightened eyes. Tris swallowed hard, her face grey-green. Shouldering past Lark and Rosethorn in the doorway, she ran out the back.
Lark helped the pale, trembling Sandry to a seat. Briar sagged against the wall, rubbing his face. Rosethorn went out, and returned with two cups of water. She handed one to Lark for Sandry, the other to Briar. He accepted it with a shaky smile, and drank it dry. Smiling crookedly, she ruffled his hair.
"What happened to Tris?" asked Lark.
"We had a vision - a bad one. I don't think she's ever seen anyone killed before," Sandry explained after a few mouthfuls of liquid.
"At least, not all ripped to pieces." Briar shook his head.
"And you have?" Rosethorn asked, half-smiling.
The smile vanished when his jade-green eyes met hers. "The Thief-Lord caught some kids that broke into his treasury once." Briar cleared his throat, feeling as if he'd inhaled strange, unpleasant smoke. "But this was a weapon, I think. What kind of weapon does that?"
"Could you tell us what you saw?" Lark suggested. "Rosie and I are a bit in the dark, still."
By the time they had finished describing what Daja had seen, Tris had returned. Everyone moved into the main room, taking seats around the table.
"Did you make it to the privy?" Rosethorn asked, getting some water for Tris.
The girl wiped her sweaty face on her nightgown sleeve. "Just," she admitted, drinking half of the water. Taking off her glasses, she poured the rest over her head. "Was that battlefire?" she asked, running her fingers through her tangled curls. "I thought that was like jelly, and it just burned."
"It doesn't sound like battlefire," admitted Lark. "Had Daja ever seen this before?"
Looking at each other, the three children shook their heads.
"So, it's pirates after all," Rosethorn said with a sigh. "And some new weapon. Time to start putting up burn ointments and wound cures."
"If they're at the harbour, they won't come here," protested Sandry. "Will they?"
"Even if they don't come here - and they haven't in recent memory," admitted Rosethorn, "medicines are needed for those who have to fight. If they break through the harbour defences..."
The females drew the gods-circle on their chests. Briar hesitated, then did the same. He didn't think Lakik and Trickster and Urda would mind if he called on bigger gods for protection at a time like this.