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As her body reached the zenith of its leap and came crashing down to the petals below (why had she thrown herself so far forward for an attack she knew wouldn't work, why why why), Winnipeg soared past frozen like a ballerina, one leg bent at the knee and the other straight, her arms splayed like wings and her katana shining. Behind her swirled a cyclone of fire, the winds of her magic funneling the pyre from the lagoon in a massive topsy-turvy column. A gust caught Sloan from behind and dragged her along, heat lapping at her skin.

Winnipeg raised her katana and launched the cyclone at the archon. It curved through the air like a gigantic drill and smashed into the mask. The archon chattered and clicked as flame enveloped it, catching on the feathers of its throat. The mask disappeared beneath the flames and the neck spasmed with jerky, birdlike motions. For a moment it appeared as though Winnipeg's attack had dealt a critical blow. But with one tremendous shake the archon cleared the flames, revealing the same Clair Ibsen mask-face with the features altered to fury.

(Chapter 11)