The Saints placed their hands on Egmond’s shoulders, then against the prison cell walls, and the twisted bits of fabric meant to symbolize Djel’s ash began to expand and unfurl, like roots uncoiling through the earth.

“No more of this,” Brum said loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. He sounded calm enough, but Nina heard the edge in his voice as he stepped forward. The two drüskelle followed, already reaching for the clubs and whips at their belts. “The weather is turning. The play can continue later.”

“Leave them be!” shouted a man from the crowd.

A child began to cry.

“Is this part of the play?” asked a confused woman.

“We should go,” Ylva said, trying to herd Hanne and Nina away.

But the crowd was too close around them, pushing toward the stage.

“You will disperse,” Brum said with authority. “Or you will be arrested and fined.”

Suddenly, thunder sounded—real thunder, not the tinny drums of the performers. Dark clouds moved in over the harbor so quickly it seemed as if dusk was falling. The sea was suddenly alive, the water forming whitecaps, rolling in swells that set the ships’ masts swaying.

“Djel is angry,” said someone in the crowd.

“The Saints are angry,” called someone else.

“You will disperse!” Brum said, shouting over the rumble of the oncoming storm.

“Look!” a voice cried.

A wave was racing toward them from the harbor, looming higher and higher. Instead of breaking against the sea wall, it leapt the quay. It towered over the crowd, a wall of seething water. The people screamed. The wave seemed to twist in the air, then crashed down onto the quay—directly into Brum and his soldiers, sending them sprawling across the cobblestones in a rush of water.

The crowd gasped, then burst into laughter.

“Jarl!” cried Ylva, trying to go to him.

Hanne held her back. “Stay here, Mama. He will not want to be seen as weak.”

“Sankta Zoya!” someone yelled. “She brought the storm!”

A few people in the crowd went to their knees.

“The Saints!” another voice said. “They see and they protect the faithful.”

The sea roiled and the waves seemed to dance.

Brum stumbled to his feet, his face red, his clothes soaked with seawater. “Get up,” he snarled, yanking his young soldiers to their feet. Then he was in the crowd, pulling the penitent up by the collars of their shirts. “Get off your knees or I will arrest you all for sedition and heresy!”

“Do you think we went too far?” Hanne whispered, sliding her hand into Nina’s and giving it a squeeze.

“Not far enough,” murmured Nina.