1. No sleep tonight.

The cadence of hoofbeats on cobblestone increased in volume as the riders galloped up from the city below, changing to a hollow thud as they crossed the drawbridge. They resumed without slowing as their shoes clicked on the flagstones of the castle. The girl pressed her face to the window, straining to see down to the inner courtyard below, the ice cold glass squares and lead cames distorting her view.

It must be something terribly important, Father would have her hide if she ever rode over the flagstones so fast, they could become slick with ice so easily, sending rider and horse crashing to their doom. She had eavesdropped on her brother's military lessons more than enough to know that was entirely deliberate; should the castle be breeched in war, they would throw water over the flagstones to make footing impossible and retire to behind the arrowslits that overlooked the courtyard. Normally they put thick mats down for visitors, or lifted them for visitors they did not like. Accidents happen, after all. She did not much like the old man who taught her brother war, he was not a nice person at all.

She knew from the sound of the hooves upon those flagstones that the castle was set for war. But who? Mommy had not said anything, Father had been hawking yesterday, the nice man from the harbour had even brought up some beautiful fresh fish, carried by a handsome young lad. What was his name? She blushed involuntarily at the memory of Tol Varus, yes that was the lad's name. So far beneath her station ... and yet she would be quite willing to ignore all the things the old crone who gave her daily etiquette lessons before her daily hour of reading from the great book that droned on and on about virtue and duty. She wondered when it would ever get to the good bit with knights and vampires ... but somehow the pages marked for her to read were always boring. Always.

She struggled with the latch, knowing full well that opening the window was forbidden for her. Her brother did it all the time, why should she not? The old blacked iron resisted at first, but then gave and the widow swung wide, leaping out of her grasp on its own weight. Closing it would be painful, she didn't yet have the reach of her much older brother. But that did not matter, for she could see. And better, hear, the words carrying clearly on the crisp winter air.

"My Lord, will you not dismount and retire into the castle for the night?"

"No time" the tall man on the charger was in full armour.

Who was it? My Lord from the Castellan meant it was undoubtedly a noble. The girl looked about carefully. The man's shield was hidden behind him ... but there. His squire carried his spare tied across his back, and stepped to the charger's mouth to rub his muzzle and check on the horse after their haste. "M'Lord, we should keep them moving while they cool or they will take ill" he muttered with the barest of politeness acceptable.

The Duke? But the Duke was old, very old ... but those were his colours, there was no doubt. Wait, that must be his son! But if his son was here bearing the Duchy's colours ...

A chill crawled up her spine, and she suddenly wished that she could close the window.

"Angelica."

The girl jumped in fright at her mother's voice.

She recovered quickly, and despite being in her nightclothes fell into a formal courtesy.

Rather than return it her mother simply ran up to her and smothered her in a desperate hug, tears streaming down her face.

The chill on Angelica's spine changed to pure ice. Her mother never wept in front of anyone, ever.

"I love you." her mother said fiercely.

Angelica's world fell into slow motion, overwhelmed by dread.

"Dress quickly, and warmly. Take this" she said unclasping her own necklace and clipping it about her daughter's neck. "And this" she said removing her tiara, and placing it upon the shaking girl's head. "Go. Your maid will help you dress and show you where to go. Father is speaking with her now."

Her mother hugged her fiercely, with an intensity that terrified the girl, who was still standing motionless after her mother had run out of the room.

Outside the city was alive to the sound of warning bells, the clatter of horses, yells angry and confused. The walls shifted from darkness to light as soldiers ran along the battlements, lighting the torches. Below the Duke's horse clattered out the way it had come, vanishing into the growing cacophony washing up from the city below.

Angelica's maid ran up and started to dress the girl, who was so stunned she did not even pause to comment on the formal gown she was putting on. She knew it well, it was very pretty and brand new, in black and gold, Mother's colours. She was not allowed to touch it, let alone wear it until the ball in Spring. Over the top, her maid draped a heavy dark blue wool cloak with silver trim, her Father's colours. "I've packed you a bag M'Lady" her maid said plainly. "They are already being taken down." she looked around the room and said in a quiet voice "If there is anything else you really want now would be a good time to put it in your pocket."

The urgency and gravity of what she had just been told snapped Angelica out of her trance. She looked around ... her world, her things, all that she treasured was here. Well almost all ...

She darted to her side table and grabbed her silver and porcelain hairbrush, and her mirror that had once been her grandmothers. As she stepped back, her maid was far less subtle and upended her jewellery box into a small sack. "Just in case" she murmured, tying the sack to her belt very carefully. "In the name of your Father, follow me. Now."

There was no question of compliance, Angelica followed without hesitation.

"I don't remember this?" she ventured as they descended a long winding staircase.

"No-one does" came the reply, between breaths. It was a long way, and they were going fast. "Careful, don't slip, this step's chipped" she warned.

The salt tang of sea air greeted them at the bottom, which opened out into a guardroom. A dozen soldiers snapped to attention, and their officer stepped forward. "M'Lady, we are your guard."

Angelica looked them over swiftly, her senses singing with the stress of what was going on. Every single one of them was ... young. Really young. Her age, and certainly not old enough to merit the honour of the task they had apparently been given. Was this a joke? No, that was real fear in the eyes of the officer. The young lady was certainly no older than her brother, and her commission ought not have been given for years yet.

She returned the salute, accepting the officer's authority and awaiting instructions. Young they may be, but they all wore their armour and carried their weapons true, with a comfort and precision of fit that betrayed years of training.

"Go". They filed out onto a pier, and while Angelica still pondered the question of how there was a pier here at all she was escorted onto the deck of a trader's ship. Father had no navy, as there had never been a need for one, but trade by sea river and lake was still the best way to move timber, bricks or ore. About her, she noticed that everyone was her age or younger. The oldest were a few young mothers, with babes in arms and tears running down their faces as they stood stoically in silence as Angelica boarded with her guard.

In horror, Angelica recognised what she was looking at, and the sails dimly in the dark beyond.

Children. They were evacuating the children from the Castle and City.

As they cast off, she saw Father on the pier, on his charger in full armour. He saluted her, and she returned the gesture with a full formal courtesy. "I love you!" he yelled "Always!" he yelled.

Angelica drew in her breath and yelled as loudly as she could, "I love you too papa."

The ship heeled over hard, tacking against the wind. Why was there a wind blowing that way? Angelica was confused, usually the ships had a morning wind towards the city, an evening wind away, and on a still night like this had little more than zephyrs outside of stormy days. She looked to the horizon, following the points and gasps of others crammed on the deck. The entire horizon was glowing, the very air starting to rush towards the light.

"What is it?" Angelica asked her maid quietly. She had never really thought about how old her maid was, but now felt ashamed at the thought realising that her maid was little older than she was, yet worked so hard.

"Fire" her maid looked at her gravely. "The Duke said that the gates of hell are open, the Gods have abandoned us, and the world is on fire. They are preparing to fight the fire but ... " she gestured about them, and to the sails of the fishing boats that were in squadron around them, similarly packed with children, water barrels, supplies, even a few goats, sheep, mules and some mares heavy with foal.

The trader captain kept the heading out to sea, the sails set expertly to push them ever further away from the shore and the brightening sky on the horizon.

A lone voice began to pray, dry old rote-learned phrases droning out.

"STOP" Angelica yelled, in a command voice, perfected from a lifetime of arguing with her brother. The deck fell silent instantly.

"M'Lady?" someone ventured timidly.

" Let us sing for those left behind." She pointed to the fire sweeping down over the Barony on the hills above the City, still visible on the horizon. "Look, and remember. We must never forget this." she wiped the tears from her eyes. "But We pray to the Gods no longer. They are not listening."

Timidly at first, one of the young mothers began singing a love song, her sweet sad voice joined by dozens of young voices.

In the last fishing ship in the little flotilla, Tol Varus wiped his eyes with his left hand, his right firm upon the tiller. His father had ordered him to go, and he looked down at his hold, packed with frightened eyes of children from the docks. Looking to him for protection, looking to him for hope. He belted out the words to the song, even though he would have preferred a bawdy song from the tavern he snuck into sometimes. With his sharp ears used to listening for the splash of fish jumping, he needed to sing something, and loud. He could faintly hear the screams beginning far behind them, and the hiss of boiling water.

"Ease the sheet, Enough!" he yelled, coaxing all the speed he could out of the old sails. It looked as if the dawn had come, the sails glowing yellow. Tol did not look back, he knew dawn was a long way away.