48

As the two Praetorians started their windup, Sean stepped over to Anyon and said, “I owe you an apology.”

The Ambassador kept his stern visage aimed at Dillon and Carver and their growing tempests. “Do you?”

“I didn’t need to talk to you like that. And I sure didn’t need to do it in public.”

The two tornadoes sucked up debris and shrubs and rocks and outlying structures. When Dillon plucked up the entire stone shrine, all of Logan’s crew cheered.

Anyon surveyed the impact Carver’s whirlwind was having on the empty market stalls bordering the town. “I appreciate your apology. But upon reflection, I think your comments and tone were both well deserved.”

Sean had no idea how to respond.

Anyon turned to face him. “For any slight and slur, every wrong assumption and dark thought, every mistake I have made regarding you and your brother, I apologize.”

“Ambassador, sir, I . . .” Sean decided the only words that really fit were, “Thank you.”

Anyon offered a Diplomat’s smile—a hint of warmth, a brief easing of the lines of care and concern. Then he said, “Perhaps now would be a good time to consider our options once this so-called duke surrenders.”

When the whirlwinds reached their zenith, Dillon yelled at Carver, “You cover the parapets. I’ll knock on Tiko’s door.”

Carver’s only response was to make a grand windmill motion with his arm. As he did so, the funnel turned on its side and began a slow and gradual demolition of the castle’s fortifications. The faint sound of screams and clanging bells sounded from unseen courtyards. Carver’s tempest moved steadily from left to right, giving the castle a Praetorian haircut.

As Dillon tightened his funnel into a writhing, greyish-yellow battering ram, one of Logan’s crew screamed, “Grey Blade! Grey Blade!”

The attacker did not stand a chance.

A hundred rocks struck him at once. A thousand. The ditrinium suit might have protected him against transit force. He also must have had some sort of portable shield of his own.

But he had no protection against the mountain that fell on top of him. And just kept building.

Sean had space for one thought, wondering how the man could transit from inside that suit. Then Dillon shifted the funnel over sideways and yelled, “Knock knock!” He flung his whirlwind at the palace’s main portals. The entire funnel disappeared into the palace.

Carver dropped his arms, allowing his own tempest to fade into a torrent of rocks and dust.

Sean only noticed the tornadoes’ clamor now, when it was reduced to a muted growl. They could hear more shouts and wails from inside the palace, punctuated by several great crashes.

Every window in the palace blew outward. The three towers that had been sliced open by Carver’s tempest shot out great spumes of dust. The one still-intact tower blew its top.

Carver said, “I think they’ve probably had enough.”

Dillon lowered his arms. The clattering rumble faded away.

The silence was overwhelming.

Anyon turned to Brodwyn and said, “General, perhaps you should lead the way.”