Malachi stared out across the crowd, at faces riven by fear and consternation. He heard the growing swell of outrage. At last, the kraikon let go of the sword. The scream faded to a sob. Rosa sagged against the mooring spikes. He’d accused her of falling hard beneath Ebigail’s sway, but he’d been snared no less. In his arrogance, he’d seen only Ebigail’s opposition to his and Viktor’s ideals. But her designs went deeper and wider than he could ever have believed. And now? Now it was too late. Ebigail fancied herself a queen and reached to claim her goal.

“Don’t you see what this is?” he said softly. “Don’t you see where this is going?”

“And now, this very morning,” Ebigail’s voice cracked as she strove to be heard, “I learn that Viktor Akadra has fled the provosts’ lawful interrogations! No innocent would behave so! Who knows how deep this rot goes? The Council will be cleansed! The Republic will be cleansed! The demon burns at dusk, those she had corrupted alongside! Will you stand with me? Will you give me your trust?”

The crowd roared their assent.

“Surely it’s not too late,” Josiri grabbed at his arm. “You can speak with Hadon. The masters of the chapterhouses . . . She can be stopped.”

Malachi pulled free. He wanted to shout, to break into a run. But such behaviour would only make things worse. “How? You and I, we’re right at the top of her list for rooting out. And it won’t stop with us. You of all people should realise that. Family is everything.”

Josiri paled. “Lilyana. The children.”

“Come on.”

The roar of the crowd rumbled like thunder through Elzar’s foundry workshop. Edvard stood motionless beneath the rising arch of the steeple. The hessian sack in whose embrace Viktor had been smuggled into the foundry lay draped over the kraikon’s arm.

“What now, I wonder?” muttered Elzar.

“Nothing good,” Viktor buttoned the borrowed shirt and winced as the motion put fresh strain on his injuries. Elzar’s perfunctory bindings were no match for those of a trained physician. He remained a mass of livid flesh, haunted by agony each time he did more than draw breath. At least he was free. But the price . . .

“You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“Viktor . . .” Elzar set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “My only regret is that I left it so long.”

Viktor nodded and laid his hand on Elzar’s. It wasn’t that simple. It could never be that simple. Elzar’s life, his work, his calling. He’d thrown it all away. And all the while, Viktor’s father had done nothing.

“They’ll be coming.”

“And you’ll be gone.” Elzar began sorting through the clutter of tools and cast-off scraps of metal that littered his bow-legged desk. “Don’t tell me where. Better if I don’t know.”