“The bird,” Gwenna growled. The urgency was so sharp it hurt. She shoved Jak with one hand, dragged Talal with the other. “Get on the fucking bird, this is our chance.” The Kettral stared at her as though she’d gone mad. “They’re all looking at the Spear!” she shouted. “The Urghul, the Annurians, everyone.” No one moved for moment, then Talal nodded. “Holy Hull,” he whispered. “No one’s thinking about Balendin.” It was the ugliest liftoff since Gwenna’s first year as a cadet—all tangled straps and shouting, unbuckled harnesses slapping in the wind—but Jak got them in the air less than twenty
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