‘‘I name you ouroboros,’’ Bastian said, slowly getting to his feet, his eyes narrowed as he turned to look at the standing dragons. ‘‘As I will so name all who follow you. What say you? Will you remain in the sept with your friends and families? Or will you turn your back on it all and be cast out? Will you follow one who has brought the noble blue sept close to disaster with his treacherous dealings of other septs? Will you stand by while he strives to ruin all that we stand for, all that we worked to rebuild? Or will you return to sanity and reclaim that which Fiat has tried to destroy?’’

A couple of the blue dragons glanced hesitantly across to what were assumedly their relations, but none of them moved. They were almost all male, each of them silent as Fiat postured and Bastian pleaded.

‘‘They have no stomach to serve under you,’’ Fiat said, jumping off the table to stroll with studied nonchalance to his uncle. ‘‘It is you who will destroy the sept, you who will alienate everyone, but by then it will be too late. You think naming me ouroboros will harm me?’’ He laughed, the sound harsh and grating as his gaze slipped to Gabriel. ‘‘We will prosper. For we will not be alone. Have you never thought to wonder who was behind the actions of two months past, old friend?’’

‘‘I knew it,’’ I whispered, reaching for my dagger. ‘‘I told you he kidnapped them.’’

Gabriel stayed my hand with a look, facing Fiat with a placid expression that I knew he didn’t feel. I could feel the dragon fire building in him, threatening to burst free. ‘‘What are you implying, Fiat?’’

Fiat laughed again, tossing his head back in an affected manner. ‘‘Just what I said—I will not be alone. Nor will I forget what has happened here today. I have a very long memory, Gabriel. And my friends, my old friends, have even longer memories than me.’’

Bastian made an abbreviated gesture, as if he wanted to punch Fiat but knew he shouldn’t. I gripped my dagger, wondering whether I could slip into the shadow world and follow Fiat without Gabriel noticing.

‘‘No,’’ Gabriel said under his breath, having read my mind. ‘‘He is posturing, nothing more, little bird.’’

‘‘Very well. You have made your choice. What’s done cannot be undone.’’ Bastian gave each of the standing dragons a long, steady look. ‘‘Your families will not suffer for your actions, but know that as of this day, you will be dead to the sept.’’

Fiat rolled his eyes in an obnoxious display, stopping only to looked past us, directly at Kostya. ‘‘I’ll give my friend your kind regards, shall I?’’

Kostya pushed Cyrene off his lap, standing slowly, his head lowered, his eyes mere slits as he stared at the ex-wyvern. ‘‘You lie.’’

‘‘Do I?’’ Fiat smiled, looked as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind. ‘‘We leave,’’ he told his followers, and they did just that. With their exodus, the air seemed to warm up several degrees, but whether it was due to the tension lightening or the actual physical removal of them, I had no idea.

I looked from Kostya to Drake and back to Gabriel. ‘‘Did he just say what I think he said?’’ I asked.

‘‘What did he mean? Who is his friend? And why was he looking at you?’’ Cyrene asked Kostya.

‘‘He lies,’’ the latter repeated, exchanging a look with his brother.

Drake didn’t look too convinced.

‘‘What is he lying about?’’ Cyrene asked, tugging at Kostya’s shirt. ‘‘Who was he talking about?’’

‘‘His name seems to crop up with increased frequency,’’ I pointed out. ‘‘Are you guys really sure he’s dead?’’

‘‘Oh!’’ Cy gasped, her eyes widening as she understood. ‘‘You’re talking about that Baltic person, aren’t you? The one who tried to kill Kostya? But I thought he chopped his head off or something.’’

‘‘I did,’’ Kostya said, turning to Gabriel. ‘‘I wish to formally petition the weyr to call a sárkány in order to grant recognition to the black—’’

The lights suddenly went out. Instantly I shadowed, but before I could grab Gabriel, the double doors at the far end of the ballroom were thrown open, and a shower of automatic gunfire from four silhouetted figures who appeared in the doorway immediately followed.

There was instant uproar as everyone in the room threw themselves out of the spray of bullets. We might all be immortal, but being shot still hurt. Gabriel called my name, his hand closing tight on my arm as he yanked me to the side of the room, shoving me to the floor as he moved to shield me.

The people at the door lobbed in a couple of smallish objects. I had time only to wonder if they were bombs when loud explosions rocked the room, the noise deafening as smoke began billowing forth.

‘‘Smoke bombs?’’ I whispered to Gabriel, keeping a tight hold on his shirt so as not to lose him in the darkness and confusion.

‘‘Stay here,’’ he ordered. ‘‘Protect the phylactery.’’ I’d forgotten about that. I released his shirt in order to grope at my neck, pulling the large locket out to verify it was still safe.

‘‘Don’t use it unless—’’

Another explosion filled the room, this one lighting the darkness with an intricate pattern of fire. Gabriel and Tipene moved off, leaving Maata to scoot over into Gabriel’s spot.

‘‘I don’t need protecting,’’ I told her in a whisper, coughing as the smoke filling the room began to choke me. ‘‘Go help Gabriel.’’

‘‘Stop fussing. Can you see anything?’’ she asked, coughing between words.

The room was utter chaos—it was impossible to see what was going on, impossible to breathe without choking. Four men remained at the doorway, sweeping the room with bullets. Nearest the door, I could see outlines of overturned chairs, and now and again movement as someone crawled past. There were occasional cries and some swearing that indicated bullets, raking the room in a steady stream, were finding marks, but otherwise, it was beyond my means to see what was happening.

‘‘I’m going into the shadow world,’’ I whispered, leaning toward a dark shape that was Maata. ‘‘Go help Gabriel. I’ll keep the phylactery safe that way.’’