I heard the blade before I saw it. Steel out of a frozen sheath has a particular sound, a cough, and my new ears caught it and my new body was moving while the old me was still reading the fourth line, and that is the only reason Cassian Vaughn lived past the parley flag.
I hit him at the waist and we went down into the mud together, my glove, his coat, no skin, even falling I did the arithmetic, and the cut meant for the back of his neck took his shoulder instead. He screamed. Hot spray across the frost. The elder with the grey braid stepped through the ruin of the parley line already swinging again, and his face was wet and grey and sorry, that was the mad thing, he swung a killing blade at a downed man under a white flag and the whole time his face begged someone to stop him.
The wall
