Corvane came in first, because a man like that does not wait to find out how much trouble he is in.
His opening was the cleanest cut I'd seen all day: no veil, no law, no trick, just steel on the shortest line to my shoulder. A day's worth of ruin lived in that line. Ten minutes ago it would have been enough.
Valeria moved like a careful page turning in a very old book. My answer was a short, plain parry, and it went where I sent it without my having to ask the floor for anything. The floor helped anyway. The Grey lay under my boots in two quiet squares. The Crown of Twilight hung above my brow like a streetlamp minding its own business. My breath came and went the same size, with no wobble in it.
He blinked once, the smallest flicker of surprise, and then added teeth. A ribbon of slick glass under my planned slide. A bead of fierce heat to fog my eyes. A little sound-pop behind my heel to trip my count. His old, reliable tricks.
