Rook

from inside his coat. She reached out through the pain that was throbbing in her legs, entered his mind, and forced him to stab himself in the thigh and then turn the blade.
    Behind her, Alrich was in the process of tearing the limbs off one of his secretaries.
    It was anarchy, with Court members and Retainers attacking one another left and right. Gubbins dislocated his neck backward,simultaneously slipping out of the garrote and smashing his attacker in the nose.
    Eliza had gone after Shantay and was firing frantically at the American Bishop and the old man she held in her arms. Unfortunately for Gestalt, Shantay had grown a skin of glittering armor and was curled over Wattleman, shielding him. Bullets were ricocheting off her in a flurry of sparks. When the ammunition ran out, Eliza looked at the metallic woman in front of her and apparently decided to find a target that could actually be hurt by a combat knife—also a target that couldn’t fold her in half. She turned and went after a loyal Retainer who was defending Lady Farrier.
    Not going to happen,
thought Myfanwy weakly, and she was about to lock the woman’s legs and send her sprawling when she felt hands closing around her throat. The treacherous Retainer who had stabbed himself was powering through the pain, and although he hadn’t managed to remove the twisted knife from his thigh, he had dragged himself over and appeared quite capable of strangling her.
    Bugger!
thought Myfanwy, and in a panic-filled moment, she froze him completely.
    With his hands still clasped tightly around her throat.
    Oh, brilliant.
    All right, don’t panic,
she thought.
You can still breathe a little. Now, how did you make that fat guy loosen his grip on the briefcase?
She carefully followed the trails of his nervous system and found that it wasn’t at all standard issue.
What in the hell? This makes no sense. If I make a mistake, I could end up strangling myself.
Taking very, very shallow breaths, she laboriously began tracing out the nerves, careful not to make him tighten his grasp.
    While she gingerly loosened the man’s grip, Gubbins dived at a Gestalt twin and began to engage in horrendously contorted combat. The second twin joined in, and Myfanwy suddenly understood how Gestalt had risen to the post of Rook. In awe, she watched one mind coordinating two bodies in flawless martial arts. Then the third brother joined in with lightning-fast blows, all of them timed to strike simultaneously. Myfanwy could tell that Gubbins washard-pressed, even as he bent his body into impossible positions. He backhanded a brother and received a fist to the stomach for his trouble. Flexing, now standing on one foot, now on two hands, Gubbins was a blur, striking out desperately at the bodies of his fellow Court member.
    Teddy Gestalt darted forward and grabbed the Chev by the lapels of his tuxedo. Gubbins locked his hands around his assailant’s wrist and elbow and twisted himself backward violently, rolling over his own spine and flinging Gestalt into the air. As Myfanwy watched, Alex Gestalt reached out without looking. The two brothers clasped hands, and, like a trapeze artist, Alex snatched Teddy out of the air. He spun and brought Teddy smoothly to the ground, then whipped him around and launched him back at Gubbins.
    The Chevalier lashed out low with a foot, and Teddy somersaulted over him, distracting Gubbins long enough for the other brothers to grab him and plant two fists in his stomach. The Chev crumpled, and the siblings reared back to strike him dead.
    Three fists struck simultaneously, like hammers pounding into flesh, pulping Gubbins’s skull.
    Behind them there was a roar as Alrich burst out of a crowd of attackers, shaking off a mist of blood. His kimono in shreds, gore streaking his arms, the Bishop looked like an avenging angel engaged in slaughter. He snarled and moved toward the melee, his long, tapering fingers hooking themselves into claws.
    Gestalt, in a stunning display of good sense, elected to run.
    In four separate directions.
    “They’re bolting!” shouted Shantay, who was still clutching Wattleman.
    “Like hell,” croaked Myfanwy. She was finally able to peel the man’s fingers off her throat, and she took her first full breath. Then she flung her thoughts out wildly, trying to ensnare all four of them. A migraine blossomed in her brain from the effort, but she held them. Four bodies stumbled, although she could feel a single intellect battering