Jezal took the last few steps two at a time, Gorst and a dozen of his Knights clattering after him, sticking to his heels as tightly as his shadow. He swept imperiously past the guard and into the bright morning light at the top of the Tower of Chains, high above the stricken city. Lord Marshal Varuz was already at the parapet, surrounded by a gaggle of his staff, all glaring out across Adua. The old soldier stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind him, just the way he had always done at fencing practice, long ago. Jezal had never noticed his hands shake in the old days, however. They shook now, and badly. High Justice Marovia stood beside him, black robes stirred by the gentle breeze.

'The news?' demanded Jezal.

The Lord Marshal's tongue darted nervously over his lips. 'The Gurkish mounted an assault before dawn. The defenders of Arnault's wall were overwhelmed. Not long afterwards they managed to land men at the docks. A great number of men. We have been fighting a rearguard action with the greatest courage, but… well…'

There was really no need to say more. As Jezal moved closer to the parapet, and wounded Adua came into view, he could plainly see the Gurkish flooding down the Middleway, the tiny golden standards of the Emperor's legions bobbing above the mass of humanity like flotsam on a glittering tide. Like seeing one ant on the carpet, then gradually becoming aware of hundreds all across his living room, Jezal began to notice movement elsewhere, then everywhere. The very centre of the city was infested with Gurkish soldiers.

'Fighting a rearguard action with… mixed success,' finished Varuz lamely.

Down below, a few men burst out from the buildings near the western gate of the Agriont, ran across the cobbled square before the moat, heading for the bridge.

'Gurkish?' someone squealed.

'No,' muttered the Lord Marshal. 'Those are ours.' Men doing their very best to escape the slaughter that was no doubt taking place down in the ruined city. Jezal had faced death often enough to guess at how they felt.

'Have those men brought to safety,' he said, voice cracking slightly.

'I am afraid… the gates have been sealed, your Majesty.'

'Then unseal them!'

Varuz' dewy eyes wandered nervously to Marovia. 'That would… not be wise.'

A dozen or more had made it to the bridge now, were shouting and waving their arms. Their words were lost over the distance, but the tone of helpless, abject terror was impossible to miss.

'We should do something.' Jezal's hands gripped tight to the parapet. 'We must do something! There will be others out there, many more!'

Varuz cleared his throat. 'Your Majesty—'

'No! Have my horse saddled. Gather the Knights of the Body. I refuse to—'