There was a large crowd facing Steel Street; white Sisterhood robes mingled with civilian clothing. People held strips of cloth to their faces, warding off the smoke. They muttered amongst themselves.

“I need to get closer,” I said.

Osan scowled and pulled a knife from the back of his belt.

“There’s a change of clothes under the seat,” he said. “Give them to me.”

While I rummaged beneath the bench, he pulled off his bloodstained shirt and deftly ripped two strips of fabric from the waist. I shoved a new shirt into his hands, and he tugged it over his head.

“Wrap this around your face,” he said, thrusting one of the rags out to me.

The crowd was pressed tight, with civilians craning their necks to see what was happening ahead of them, and even more people gathered further along Steel Street. I started to push my way through the throng, but Osan grabbed my arm and wordlessly dragged me toward the Maternal Affairs offices. A set of stairs ran up the side of the double-storey building. He climbed, still holding my wrist.

“Let’s see what’s happening first,” he muttered. “From the balcony, we’ll have a better view. You might be able to use your lace if necessary.”

I nodded and pulled ahead of him, taking the steps two at a time. A few people seemed to have struck upon the same idea; two Judicial Affairs Acolytes stood on the balcony with their hands on the railing, their faces obscured by scarves. Beyond them, over the heads of the crowd, I caught a glimpse of the broad stone platform where mass executions had taken place during the Order’s darker days. A pyre blazed on top of the dais, black smoke billowing into the air.

I shuddered. This was like a sick kind of theatre, the crowd all gathered to watch the Sisterhood perform. Judicial Affairs officers surrounded the platform, their ordinary grey uniforms replaced by black dresses and featureless silver masks. I stepped around the Acolytes, trying to get nearer, to see better.

“El,” said Osan suddenly. “El, stop.”

The smoke stung my eyes. I could see Reverend Somme near the platform, her expression fixed and cold, and Reverend Bremm of Maternal Affairs standing stiffly beside her.

Osan laid a protective arm over my shoulders.

“El,” he spoke gently, “let’s go now, okay? Don’t look.”

I shook my head. The flames of the pyre shifted like a living creature. At their heart stood a thick vertical beam.

“Don’t look,” he said again, still with the same awful gentleness. “Let me get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving without Finn,” I snarled.

The two Acolytes were watching me and whispering, but I ignored them. I swept my gaze over the crowd. Finn had to be here. Osan tried to draw me away from the railing.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his grip tight around my shoulders, his fingers digging into my arm. “Please, please just come with me now.”