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brief
moment of hope collapsing as the barrel resolved itself into a
stout, four-foot-tall woman in a green Irish kirtle. “I didn’t
recognize—”
    “I should demmed well hope not,” Winnie said,
flexing her small limbs. She gently floated to the ground while
rooting around in her voluminous skirts. “’Ere. You sound like you
need this mor’n I do.”
    Gillian took the small bottle her friend
proffered and downed a sizeable swallow before realizing it wasn’t
water. Now she couldn’t talk and she couldn’t breathe.
“What?” she gasped.
    “Me special brew.”
    “Didn’t they take it from you, when you came
in?” Elinor asked suddenly. Seeing a familiar face seemed to have
done her good, and she had always liked Winnie.
    “Naw. Made it look like a growth on my thigh,
I did. Hairy.” She nodded archly. “Lots o’ moles. The guards din’
want ter get too close.”
    Elinor looked suitably impressed.
    Gillian gave Winnie back her “brew”--her wits
were addled enough as it was—and she tucked the possibly lethal
concoction away. “Right, then. Wot’s the plan?”
    “The plan was to levitate one of these and
ride it out of here!” Gillian croaked. “There’s about to be an
assault on the front gate. If it draws enough attention, we might
be able to slip away while the guards are—”
    “Don’t matter,” Winnie broke in, shaking her
head. “The Circle’s got charms on the walls, don’t they? Try ter go
over and poof,” she gestured expressively. “The spell breaks and ye
fall to yer death. Saw a witch try it a minute ago.”
    So much for that idea, Gillian thought,
swallowing. But Winnie’s wouldn’t work, either. “They’ll check for
those in hiding,” she said, trying to keep the panic out of her
voice. “As soon as they’ve rounded up those who chose to
fight!”
    “Aye,” Winnie said, imperturbably. “And mebbe
they’ll find me and mebbe they won’t. But fightin’ war mages is
nothin’ but a quick death—if yer lucky.”
    “If we had our weapons, they wouldn’t kill us
so easily!” Gillian said passionately.
    “But we don’t. They’re up there,” Winnie
pointed at a nearby tower. “And ain’t no reaching ‘em.”
    “What?” It took a moment for her friend’s
words to sink in. And then Gillian turned her face upwards, staring
at the massive cylinder of stone that loomed above them, blocking
the sun. “They’re right there?”
    “Don’t go getting any ideas,” Winnie told
her, watching her face. “I know how ye are about a challenge, but
this one’s a beggar’s chance. There’s a mass o’ guards on the door
and probably more inside. I heard a couple talkin’ about bein’ kept
on duty to help secure the place.”
    “That’s never stopped us before,” Gillian
murmured, feeling a little dizzy at the sudden return of hope.
    “This ain’t a job, Gil,” Winnie said,
starting to look nervous.
    Gillian rounded on her, eyes flashing and
color high. “No, it’s not a job, Winnie. It’s the job. Our last, if we don’t do this!”
    “But we can’t—”
    “It’s just another robbery! Only we need this
one more than any gold we ever took.”
    Winnie put a small hand on her arm. “Gil,
stop for a minute. Stop. Yer’re not gettin’ through that door.”
    “Oh, don’t worry,” Gillian told her, staring
upwards. “I’m not planning on it.”
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    Kit reached the hell pit only to have to jump
aside to avoid a group of stampeding horses, which some
enterprising witches were using to try to storm the gate. And then
a rogue spell blistered past, caught the edge of his wool cape and
set it on fire. He flung off the now deadly garment and started to
stamp out the flames, when he caught sight of a nearby guard.
    The man had taken a break from combat in
order to besport himself with a pretty blond. He had the struggling
girl on her back, her dress over her head and his knee between her
thighs—until Kit tossed the length of