“They’re not foreigners,” Marcus said. “They should be safe, shouldn’t they?”

“Maybe. But there’s no telling what a mob will do when its blood is up.” He shook his head. “Besides, there’s the powder magazine to think of. If they take it into their heads to start torching the place . . .”

“God Almighty.” Marcus hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“If the Lord wills it.” The Preacher smiled. “I expect He will, though. That lot are all cowards at heart.”

“All right.” Marcus extended a hand, and the Preacher gripped it. “Send a runner when things die down so I know you’re all right.”

“I will. And if you could contrive to get a message to me, just to say that things worked out?”

Marcus nodded. “I’ll find a circumspect route.”

“Right.” The Preacher looked at the window and grinned. “I feel like I’m back in Ashe-Katarion. Where’s Janus when you need him, eh?”

In the end, the two Hamveltai—brothers named Karl and Fredrick—came along. The Borelgai student, Volaht, stuck close to Marcus’ side. Hayver led the way, with Viera close beside him, while Andy had volunteered to bring up the rear.

“I’ll take us out the back door,” Hayver said. “There’s a courtyard that connects to the Longer Hall, and from there we can stay indoors most of the rest of the way.”

“What if they find us?” said Karl, the younger of the pair.

“Then keep your mouths shut and I’ll try to reason with them,” Marcus said.

“What if that doesn’t work?”

“Then we run,” Viera said.

They walked through the gloomy shadows of the Old Bully, Hayver turning corners and hurrying down stone-flagged passages without apparent hesitation. Marcus caught glimpses of comfortably furnished rooms, chairs drawn into circles or set around tables. Other doors opened onto tiled chambers like giant washrooms, with stained stone slabs. Surgeries, he guessed, or dissection rooms. Or both.

At the far end of the seemingly endless hallway was another big double door, closed and bolted. A little sound leaked in from the outside, and Marcus could hear shouts and the occasional tinkle of breaking glass. Now and then there was a crunch as something toppled, followed by a cheer.

“What are they doing?” said Volaht. “I thought it was us they’re after. Why are they wrecking the place?”

“When a mob gets loose, it destroys whatever it finds to hand,” Viera said.

“Oh God,” Karl said, shrinking against the wall. “They’ll kill us. We won’t even get to the Spike. They’ll tear us to pieces.” He murmured prayers in Hamveltai, fast and nearly inaudible.