Free Seraphs by Faith Hunter Page B

TV camera whirred. Why hadn’t I just run?
    “Thorn St. Croix Stanhope, take the stand,” the chairman called out.
    Panic detonated through me, stealing my breath and leaving my heart thumping like a drum in the hands of a maniac. I couldn’t do this. Not on national TV. The Enclave priestess would never forgive me once she heard. I’d be ruined. After this, I could never go home to Enclave.
    The thought was a shock. Until now, I hadn’t known I wanted to go to Enclave. I hadn’t known some tiny part of me still thought Enclave was home. I shivered. What else didn’t I know about myself?
    Audric stood. From the far side of the aisle, Rupert stood. Both waited a beat until Audric moved up beside me and bent far down, placing his mouth at my ear, easing a hand beneath my arm, his lips by my face. “Showtime, little mage. Wimp out on me now and I’ll beat you into a soft lump of modeling clay at our next practice.”
    A frenzied giggle burst from me and Audric clamped down on my arm so hard the giggle wheezed into silence. Pain helped clear my head. Slowly I stood, catching sight of Ciana’s terrified face. My heart faltered, slammed a fierce beat into my chest and up my neck, settling into a fast, steady rhythm. Okay. For Ciana. I managed a smile. I glanced up at Audric and gestured forward. Showtime, the man said. Fine. What choice did I have now?
    I threw back my head, took my walking stick in hand, and stepped into the passageway toward the dais. The three remaining brown-clad bailiffs were in a line against the wall to my left. Two wore guns at their hips; the other had a truncheon and Taser. All three held their hands at the ready, cupping the butt of guns or billy clubs. All three looked eager, a little too eager, to take on a mage before a national audience.
    The last of my panic fled and battle tactics began to build in my mind. I had studied the strategy and tactics of war, training at Enclave until I was fourteen and had to flee or die. Lately, my training had begun again, every morning at Audric’s hands. I looked around the room as I walked, studying it fully, as I should have when I first entered. I dismissed the guards. Rupert could handle the hill-billies with guns, even with the unfamiliar sword. The one with a Taser and stick I could stop with the throwing knives at my wrists. My breathing steadied as I analyzed. They might make two steps before their hearts stopped, say three seconds from throw till they hit the floor, but I doubted it.
    Of course, if I killed them, I had better be ready to fight the entire town. And if they got my amulets away before I could mount a defense strong enough to save myself and my friends, I’d be toast. Worse than toast. Stripped, raped, flayed, beaten, butchered, and left to rot in the snow. Most humans didn’t care much for mages. I smiled as I took the steps to the dais. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a sweet smile.
    Reason mulled over battle plans as I looked at the side door. A second alternative presented itself. I didn’t like it, but it would be smarter. I could let Rupert and Audric take care of the bailiffs and hold off the crowd, and I could run. Yeah. Cowardice might save my friends, and me too. And there was a third way. I scanned the town fathers who would act as my judges, wondering which of the unknown ones were for me and which were against. I had risked my life to save this town, even if they hadn’t been there to see it. I had lived in Mineral City for a decade and had hurt no one. Not once. Yet someone had decided I should face trial and die for an accident of birth that made me a neomage.
    Holding my cloak closed over my mage-attire, moving slowly so my skirt bells didn’t jingle, I took the seventh step, reaching the stage that used to be a holy place, mage-boots silent on the scarred wood, walking stick clacking softly. Flanking me, so much taller than I, Rupert and Audric climbed. I must have disappeared behind them, vanishing from the