Senya's voice was as cold as her eyes. She extended her hand, palm upwards. "Hello, Jorick. I'll take that."

Katelina stifled a cry and drew back against the building. Jorick only stared dispassionately at the newcomer. "I don't think so."

Verchiel snapped his coat open and closed and suddenly had a short, straight bladed sword in one hand and a hard, lacquered scabbard in the other. His eyes were on the trees as he stepped forward. "She has friends."

"I'm sure ...