“No, not yet,” he said. “Though I expect it’s only a matter of time – this human shield of theirs won’t do much good if they’re all dead.”

“I’ll think of something,” I repeated, though I had no idea what I could do that would help in time.

“Pray to your god that these people aren’t oath sworn to Roland,” Marc said, bracing himself against the stone. “Because I’m bringing them to shore.”

We stood mutely as Marc plucked skiff after skiff off the failing bridge, dropping them on the beach. But people still over the water were climbing from their craft, trying to run toward shore. They slipped on the slick surface of the magic, unable to keep their balance as it bucked and plunged, sending them tumbling into the water.

“Idiots,” Marc shouted, but his voice was full of desperation, not anger, as he abandoned the skiffs on the bridge to save those who’d fallen in the water.

It was impossible to look away, especially knowing that Tristan’s power was beginning to fail. His panic was thick in my mind, as was his fear. There were still countless skiffs out there, and even more people in the water, but there was no more time.

“Hurry, Marc,” I pleaded, knowing he was doing the best he could. “He can’t last much longer.”

“Cécile?”

I turned in time to see Sabine running toward me, Souris at her heels, barking like mad. I caught her and we went down in a heap. “Thank God you’re here,” she said, tears smearing against my cheeks. “We don’t know what to do. It’s madness outside the walls: they’re all so afraid, but they can’t seem to help themselves. So many people are dead or hurt, but no one knows what they’ll do if we let them in.”

Gran was leaning against the wall next to Marc. “I’d say we put them to sleep or in a trance like you did in Revigny, but we haven’t the supplies for so much potion, and even if we did, I’ve no notion how we’d get them to drink it.”

“Compulsion?” Marc asked, his voice strained. “Roland’s oath is a weak method of control – it might be that you can overcome it for a time.”

The very idea was overwhelming. I’d compelled a handful of people simultaneously, but it took an incredible amount of focus on each individual, and I’d never been able to sustain it for long. “I don’t think I can,” I said, explaining why.

Grim silence filled the tower as we all came to terms with the idea that we might not be able to do anything. That the survival of those people was entirely dependent on whether Tristan persevered.

“What about a song?” Sabine asked, and when I raised both eyebrows in askance, she added, “I saw your mother, I mean Anushka, do it at the masque. So did Tristan. When she sang, it seemed as though everyone was in a trance. No one moved – they barely seemed to breathe.”