“They’re going to the textile mill down the road,” he said as the people filed from the room. “You should go with them. It has a gate at least, and maybe the mob will prioritize this town’s economy over their glee at killing a few Stranniki.”

If I had looked for Galina sooner, I might have been able to save her. But I refused to stand by while more people got hurt, even if it meant delaying my search for the men who had taken her.

“I’m staying here with you,” I said sternly, ready to argue if Vanya put up a fight.

Instead, his shoulders sagged in relief, and he nodded. “I was hoping you would say that.”

We watched the others file from the temple. I wanted to ask him what the plan was, but I was afraid to know the answer.

“Too bad you’re not a witch,” Vanya said at last. His voice sounded very small, alone in the domed hall. “We could really use one right now.”

“Let’s hope your magic is enough.”

He smiled thinly. “Surprised you’re not trying to stone me like all the rest.”

Before I could respond, the temple’s doors flew open, and Mikhail rushed inside. He skidded to a stop before us.

“They’re coming,” he croaked between panting breaths. “They’re heading right this way.”

A change passed over Vanya’s features. His gaze hardened, and as he turned to me, his lips curled up in a mirthless smile.

“You know, Toma, in the past, we weren’t called Strannik but Strazhnik. Guards. Protectors. Our skill in battle was renowned.” He shifted his rifle’s sling from over his shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to remind these bastards of that fact.”

11

The second-floor balcony offered a view of abandoned pews, forgotten belongings, and crushed offerings of grain and berries. I crouched just shy of the railing, my musket aimed at the level below, eyes on the door. Waiting.

I dreaded the thought of having to pull my musket’s trigger. Vanya had called it shockingly easy to shoot a human being, but I didn’t believe him. I thought that must have just been something he told himself so that he’d be prepared to do it again.

Mikhail took up post at the other end of the balcony, a haunted look on his face. He held Vanya’s rifle in a tight, white-knuckled grip. I didn’t know what he had seen out there. I didn’t want to know.

My gaze shifted to the idol of the goddess Voserka. Vanya crouched behind the wooden statue. From where I stood, I could only catch a glimpse of his black tunic and burgundy hair. He yanked up his hood, and then he was hardly more than a shadow filigreed in gold.

The explosions and gunfire had died into an eerie calm. It didn’t last. Down below, the door crashed inward with a sickening thud and the rioters poured into the room.

“Where are they?” a man roared in anger. I flinched as a pew slammed into the opposite wall, hurled by a mere wave of his hand. Ducking low against the floor, I held my breath. If he looked up here, would he see us?