One of the big men punched Andy, a hard blow across the face and then a jab to the chest that connected with a flat thud. He followed it up with a knee to the stomach, and she doubled over with a choking wheeze. The man holding her arm let go, turned around to face the others, and found the marble bust of a long-forgotten scholar coming down fast into his forehead. The blow dropped him with a sound like two billiard balls meeting.

The last rioter raised his fists, confronting Viera, who was still holding the bust and breathing hard. After a moment, Hayver joined her, holding his own fists up in a way that made it clear he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with them. Volaht stepped forward as well, face white as a sheet.

“That’s enough,” Marcus growled. He’d retrieved his sword, holding it awkwardly in his left hand, and he leveled it at the big rioter’s throat, taking care to keep well out of range of a sudden grab. “Sit down and put your hands on the floor.”

The man raised his hands in surrender, sliding down the wall to a sitting position. Marcus looked over the other rioters, but none of them seemed about to get up and renew the contest. Andy, curled in the fetal position, was alternately coughing and swearing imaginatively.

“Volaht, Viera, help Andy up. Hayver, is that door bolted?”

“Yes, sir,” Hayver said, glaring at the sitting man.

“Then keep going. You know the way.” He beckoned to Karl and Fredrick, who were huddled together against the wall. “Come on, you two. It’s over.”

As the brothers picked their way through the fallen, groaning men, and Andy was hauled to her feet, the sitting man’s expression became a snarl. “Fucking foreign trash,” he muttered. “Need a Vordanai girl to fight for you.”

“May I hit him, Colonel?” Viera said.

“Please do,” Marcus said. “We can’t have him following us.”

“Wait—” the man managed, before the marble bust came down again.

“Are you all right?” Marcus said as they hurried through the corridors of the Longer Hall as fast as Andy could manage.

“’M fine,” she said. A bruise was already swelling over one cheekbone, and she spoke as if her mouth were full of cotton. “Had worse kickings than this.”

“And delivered worse, I’d guess.”

She gave a lopsided grin. “You have no idea.”

“Through here!” Hayver said, standing beside another double door. “Looks clear.”

There was another courtyard beyond, this one shaded by evergreens and heavy with the scent of pine. It was hard up against the outer wall, and more of the ubiquitous ivy grew across the brickwork. Marcus glanced nervously at the archways leading in either direction, but no rioters were in evidence. Sounds of breaking glass and shouts from elsewhere on campus indicated that the destruction continued.