Lia glanced at the nearest brazier, remembering that it was fire that had destroyed her previous enemy. There were no Leerings in the tower, no stone sculptures, but there was fire and she had the Gift of Firetaming. It would not burn her.

She shifted to the right, keeping as much of the room between them as she could. The windows were all blocked by heavy curtains. The idea bloomed in her mind. Force the enemy to react to your plans, instead of reacting to theirs. She was not fully healed and feared the kishion’s skill at knife-fighting eclipsed hers. If she focused on her strengths, it would give her a better chance.

The kishion studied her, weaving closer, watching her feet as she moved, seeing which leg she favored. She grit her teeth, trying to keep from wincing at her throbbing leg. He was judging her abilities.

“I offer terms,” Lia said. “Will you negotiate?” She moved closer to the brazier.

“The challenge lures me,” the kishion replied. “Not the gold. Drop the dirk and I will kill you quickly. You murdered a Dochte Mandar. They will want you dead for that and it will not be a pleasant death.”

Lia darted as he spoke. She had hoped he would respond to her, to distract his mind from her true intent. The brazier glowed with burning coals and the black iron was white with ash. Flames filled its bowels and offered light from between the thick slats. It had four tiny legs keeping it up and Lia gripped the bars and shoved it over, spilling the flaming coals onto the nearest curtain. The metal was warm against her hand, but it did not burn her. The curtain erupted into a sheath of flames.

She tried to use the Medium to control the fire, but there was not even the spark of it in the tower any longer. It could never be forced by a maston, only pleaded with or persuaded. She was on her own yet still. Black smoke began to fill the room. The curtain blazed, sending fire up to the wooden rafters.

The kishion lunged at her.

He was faster than she thought he would be, but there was something new in his eyes – a little hint of fear at the crackling flames. She had changed the balance of the duel. He had experience with fire. He knew how fast it would devastate the room.

Lia watched his feints, refusing to react to them, to be distracted. He suddenly dropped low and tried to sweep her bad leg with his boot, but she moved aside and sliced towards his ear. He deflected it with a dagger and she whirled around behind him, trying to draw him after her. It worked. He had seen how lethal she could be with a dirk and slashed at her with his other hand. Lia jumped away from the cut and saw Marciana backing away from the kishion, towards another curtain.

“Get to the door!” Lia told her, stabbing carefully at the kishion, trying to push him back into the blaze of the curtains. If she could get close enough, she could shove him into the burning mass, but he recognized her plan and went after Marciana.

Lia intervened, slashing at his arm. Smoke swirled in the room, obscuring everything, her movements and his. Suddenly the kishion’s blade lashed out at her, the dagger at her ribs. He stabbed just above the leather girdle she wore, beneath her breast. She felt the point of the blade rip against her shirt, tear it, and then glance away.

There should have been pain. There should have been a cut. She realized to her surprise that the dagger had not penetrated. The shirt was torn but the blade stopped against the chaen beneath.

There was another look in the kishion’s eyes. It was a blow that should have impaled her and instead, had not even harmed her.

“Maston,” he murmured.

Lia clawed at his eyes with her fingers. She felt his skin tear as her fingernails bit into his flesh. With her other hand, she stabbed and managed to land the blade into his arm as he deflected it from his throat. He snarled once and backed away, his eyes burning from the smoke. Red tears tracked down the side of his face with the scar. Blood.

The door opened and Marciana fled the room.

“No!” the kishion bellowed. He hoisted his dagger and threw it after the fleeing girl. Lia watched helplessly as it whistled and spun, end over end. In her mind, she remembered Astrid being cut down by such a stroke, the blade burying itself in his lower back. She willed the blade to stop, she willed it to miss. In Marciana’s place, the dagger was caught mid-air by Kieran.

There he was, filling the doorway with his size as he strode into the room.

“Take him together,” Kieran said.

The kishion looked back and forth at them, seeing the change in the battle and blaze and the naked gladius in Kieran’s other hand.

Lia stomped on the kishion’s foot and slammed her dirk against his head, but he responded quickly and deflected the second blow, though her foot had managed to meet his.