The moment Sanguine's grip went slack Solomon rolled back to his feet and made for the door, almost running into the wall. He kept one hand firmly on it to hold his weight, half turned toward Sanguine to keep the man from having too clear a line to his back--not that there was much Solomon could do to stop that. He was a damned burrower.

Solomon found the door--and the sigil. It pulsed almost mockingly at him. In that way of a brain moving so fast it was almost illogical, Solomon noted the way the Sanctuary's wards gathered, like drawn-up silk, where his hand was pressed against the door, remembered Lynott saying--

"You, Elder Ravel and Grand Mage Deuce have unlimited security access to the whole of the Sanctuary, Elder Wreath."

He slammed his hand against the sigil and it swarmed with silken wards drawing tight. "Elder Wreath commands you--"

The floor's magic rushed out from under him and Solomon made to jerk away, but too late. Within the space of a moment Sanguine shoved him into the door and impaled his hand with his blade. The ex-Necromancer screamed, his hand jerking, and gripped the door to hold himself upright when that only made the pain shoot all the way up his arm.

But his palm was still over the sigil. "Break," he snarled, and the sigil shattered with a soft rising pulse of magic, swamped by the Sanctuary's wards.

Now he had a problem. Now he had the problem of the Texan having shoved him into a door which opened inward. Solomon twisted, trying to keep Sanguine from being directly behind him and to get his other hand in a position from which he could retaliate.