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Stones broke, and magma gushed out, but still the harpy flew.

A blue aura gushed from Logan’s fingertips and wrapped around his hammer. He hoisted the weapon overhead and roared.

The enspelled weapon crashed into the head of the harpy and broke it free from the body. The magma joints grew gray and seized up.

Suddenly, the harpy was not flying but falling.

Dead weight.

Rytlock ran away in one direction and Caithe in the other.

The ground rose up to meet the harpy. It crashed down and flipped over, breaking into hundreds of pieces. Logan was flung a few dozen paces through the air. He tumbled end over end in a welter of sand.

Then there was a blow to the head and blood in his nose and nothing else.

When he awoke, the first thing Logan saw was Rytlock’s face, his whiskers curled at the ends. “He’s back!” Rytlock said.

Caithe moved into view and smiled her rare smile. Beside her, Dylan appeared, his white face flushing red. And then, even Queen Jennah was there.

Logan couldn’t breathe. And suddenly . . .

Jennah stood above him, smiling. Her hand gently touched the royal scarf tied to his armor. “You are a champion, in the mold of your brother.”

“I fight for you . . . forever.”

“Ssh, now . . . rest.”

Logan opened his mouth to reply but once again lost consciousness.

AGREEMENTS

The summer sun beat down on Rata Sum, but within Snaff’s ziggurat, everything was cool.

He and Zojja and Eir worked away contentedly in the shade. Eir pounded her chisel, breaking loose a few more chunks of sandstone. She glanced at Snaff. “Keep flexing.”

Snaff snorted, tensing his chest muscles. “I’ve never flexed so long.”

“You’re the one who wanted a ‘buff golem,’” Eir reminded. “Besides, it can’t be harder to flex muscles than to actually use them.” A few more blows knocked the last of the large pieces from the sandstone block, which now had the rough shape of Snaff—only five times larger. Eir switched to a smaller chisel. “I’ve never carved sandstone before. Very soft. It doesn’t hold up.”

“All the better,” Snaff said enigmatically. “So, you’re confident in this plan of yours?”

Eir nodded. “I know we can defeat them. They don’t plan. They just react. They wait until their opponents attack, and then they exploit the weaknesses they see. If we don’t attack, they’ll have to, and we’ll be a mystery.” Eir carved a long, swooping curve that would be the lid beneath Snaff’s left eye. “Let me turn the question on you, Snaff: Are you sure about this sandstone golem? Zojja says no asura has ever created anything like it.”

“No other asura could—well, maybe Oola, or one of her students, but nobody else.”

“But you can?”

“We’ll see,” Snaff said with a grin.

“You’ll have control?”

“Yes, but not with a single powerstone. With millions.”

She shifted to the lower lid of his right eye. “A pretty expensive golem.”

“No. I’ve designated one powerstone for each body part, and then ground them into fine powder. Each grain is a minipowerstone. We’re going to spread them over the whole statue once it’s finished. I’ll have power over every inch.”

“Ingenious.”

“Thank you.” Then Snaff coughed into his hand. “By the way, once you’re finished carving this statue, we’ll have to deconstruct it.”

“What?” Eir stepped back and stared at him. “How do you deconstruct a statue?”

His smile grew devilish, and he pantomimed giving it a push.

“You’re cracked.”

“Thank you.”

“Flex!”

The day after downing a destroyer harpy, Logan was back on his feet and fighting like never before. He credited the scarf of Queen Jennah for healing him, but of course the chirurgeons didn’t hurt.

Sangjo was anxious that his newfound team keep fighting—especially since they still had such a large billet to pay off—but Edge of Steel seemed in no particular hurry to pay up. Logan had used his cut to complete his plate mail, Rytlock had moved on from thundershrimp to skale omelets, and Caithe had rented a private room in a tower near the arena, where she could “keep an eye on everyone.