The crowd shouted a new set of jeers. Marasi frowned, opening her eyes. She stood at the south edge of the crowd, near one of the bonfires, and was close enough to the front to make out Constable-General Aradel, who had stepped up beside MeLaan. Likely, he was going to get “the governor” to safety.

Instead Aradel took out his pistol and pointed it at the governor.

Marasi gaped for a moment. Then she spun on the Soother. “Soothe them!” she said. “Now. With everything you have. Do it, and I give you immunity for what you did tonight.”

The woman eyed Marasi, displaying a craftiness that belied her earlier whining. She seemed to be weighing the offer.

“I promise it,” Marasi said, “by the Survivor’s spear.”

The woman nodded, and a wave went through the crowd—a sudden hush. It didn’t quiet them completely, but when Aradel spoke, his voice carried.

“Replar Innate,” Aradel said. “In the name of the people of this city, and by the authority of my station as lord high constable, I arrest you for gross corruption, personal exploitation of this city’s resources, and perjury of your oaths as a civil servant.”

The crowd finally stilled completely.

“What idiocy—” MeLaan began.

“Men, turn around,” Aradel said. He looked down at his constables. “Turn around.”

The feeble line of soldiers reluctantly turned to face him, putting their backs to the crowd.

“What is he doing?” Reddi demanded.

“Something brilliant,” Marasi said.

Aradel looked over the crowd, still holding a gun to the governor. “Tonight, the governor himself declared this city to be in a state of martial law. That puts the constables in charge, with him at the head. Unfortunately, it turns out the governor is a lying bastard.”

Some of the people began hesitant shouts of agreement.

“He’s no longer in control,” Aradel said. “Best I can figure, you’re in control. So if you’re willing, tonight, the constables stand with you.

“Now, you all came here to start a riot. Listen! Stop your shouts. I won’t stand for rioting or looting. You start burning this city, and I’ll fight you up to my last breath. You hear me? We aren’t a mob.”

“Then what are we?” a call went up, along with a handful of others.

“We’re the people of Elendel, and we’re tired of being led by a pack of rats,” Aradel yelled. “I have proof of at least seven house lords who are corrupt. I mean to see them arrested. Tonight.” Aradel hesitated, then spoke louder, voice carrying and amplified by the cones set up before the stage. “I could use an army to help me, if you’re willing.”

As the crowd roared its agreement, Aradel shoved MeLaan into the hands of a pair of corporals waiting nearby. They seemed utterly stunned. In truth, Aradel himself seemed a little overwhelmed by what he’d just done.