Tears flowing, she circled the compound but didn’t find Pil. The commander’s cote was empty, the old reeve who attended her sobbing so hard on the porch that he didn’t notice Nallo come or go. Folk were poking spears into every hidey-hole and dark corner, making sure no one was sneaking around to strike again. Someone had set a dozen furious, frightened fawkners and assistants to guard the gate. They pointed her toward the stairs that led down into the city.

A cataract of sound poured up from Toskala. Rubbing against it in a chatter that irritated her even more, the refugees mobbing Justice Square waved their hands in the air to no purpose, jabbering and complaining and then having the nerve to yell at her as she elbowed them aside to get to the overlook. A pair of lamps hanging from posts illuminated the balcony that jutted out over the cliff face. She identified Pil’s topknot. The two other reeves had very short hair, and the fourth person wore a firefighter’s brimmed leather helmet and fitted leather coat. They made room for her at the railing.

They stared over the city, delineated by torches flaring in lines that snaked along avenues as the army spread out to overtake the population piece by piece. In one quarter, a fire burned, so far confined to a single block. A pair of guardsman stood at the edge of lamplight, posted at the gate marking the head of the stairs. All traffic in either direction had ceased.

“How did they block the stairs?” Nallo asked finally.

Kesta set a hand over hers on the railing. “Some old trap from ancient days. It made a terrible noise. Eiya! A lot of people on the steps died when it was sprung.”

“Captain Ressi did that?”

Her usually lively face looked drawn and aged in lamplight. “Neh. Captain Ressi was at council hall. A sergeant sprang it. Killed himself in the process. Knew he was going to, I think.”

“What do we do now?” asked the fire captain. He was surprisingly young, with a short-clipped beard and an annoying habit of drumming his fingers on the railing as he started talking. “The senior militia captains are dead in the council hall, or trapped in the city and surely dead by now.”

“You are a captain,” said Pil.

“Eiya! Through my mother’s Green Sun connections, if you want to know the truth. I was so cursed proud of myself, wasn’t I? Riding my gelding through the streets, strutting about with my fire hook.” He glanced at Peddo, then away. “My kinfolk sent me up here three days ago to square the accounts on the various hall storehouses. This much water in the cisterns. That much oil. So many tey of rice. I tell you, I think they knew. I fear they sent me up here to keep me out of harm’s way, curse them!” He began sobbing. “Gods-rotted traitors!”

They stepped away from him, and he looked over indignantly.