Seyun watched the Mineral Spring Guardian hammer the same three corners of the central basin through the billowing white steam. He pieced together the exact clockwork sickness of the eruption. Beside him behind the granite water-trough, Joren pressed both hands against his bandaged chest bone, wincing every time the guardian’s third strike sent a dull high-pressure thud through the courtyard stones.
“Why isn’t it coming after us?” Joren rasped, spitting a mouthful of stone-tasting water drops onto the mud. “When the porch collapsed, I thought it was trying to kill everyone near the steps.”
“It struck the porch because the rider’s locator metal tube was lying on the drain apron beneath your feet,” Seyun said. His eyes tracked the white vapor spiraling inward around the guardian’s waist before each violent outward burst. “Look at its arms, Joren. It isn’t hunting people. It’s trying to close a circuit.”
Up on the northern terrace landing, Senior Elder Tor Ves and staff keeper Bel Sar had rallied four inner-court guards with long iron-shod axe-spears and were preparing to charge down into the basin to attack the spirit’s central stone core. A desperate assault that would either get the guards killed by Jade-scale blast waves or shatter the bound spirit’s heart and turn Ash Reed’s healing spring into a dead, cold mud-pit forever. Before Seyun could shout for them to hold, Mina ran out of the sick room’s side alley—having checked that the last patient pallet was clear—and ducked behind the western end of…
