After some time sitting in a café by the side of that stream, though, Marcus could see the differences. The Island had once been the most cosmopolitan part of the city, where Vordanai rubbed shoulders with fur-clad Borelgai merchants, Murnskai traders, or businessmen from the League cities. Even Khandarai, thousands of miles from home, had not been unheard of. Now the foreigners were gone, and in their wake some of the Triumph’s businesses had shuttered. Gareth’s, the Vordanai branch of the great Hamveltai jewelry empire, had boards nailed across its windows, and the Hotel Vichk, for decades the most expensive and exclusive address in the city, had closed its doors.

At the north end of the square, the Hotel Ancerre was lit up like a candelabrum, but its patrons weren’t the wealthy merchants and nobility who’d once rented its apartments. As the headquarters of the Directory and the Patriot Guard, it was ringed by halberdiers, and carriages hastily painted with blue and black stripes came and went constantly from its stables.

The crowds were different, too. Marcus remembered children running through the square, laughing at the fountains and buying sweets from the vendors. Not only were there no families now, but he scarcely saw any young men—and no wonder, when anyone who looked as though he might be capable of carrying a musket risked being harried by accusations of cowardice whenever he went out in public.

He leaned back in his chair, trying to work some of the stiffness out of his back, and looked forlornly at the mug in front of him. He’d discovered the hard way that what was being sold as coffee smelled and tasted as though it had been brewed from tree bark, and after a cautious sip he’d left it well enough alone. Marcus would happily have done terrible things for one small cup of coffee the way they served it in Khandar, black as the Beast and strong enough to melt copper.

Andy returned, pulling out the chair opposite him with a nasty screech of iron on stone and sitting down. She slapped a broadsheet in front of him, and he put his hand over it before it was caught by the afternoon breeze.

“This was the best they had,” she said, frowning. “Doesn’t sound like what I saw happen, though.”

Marcus looked down at the paper. It was headlined FOREIGN ELEMENTS CAUSE CHAOS AT THE UNIVERSITY. The text recounted how a band of right-thinking citizens had assisted the Patriot Guard in suppressing a disturbance at the University and contributed to the arrest of several foreign spies. It said the grounds had been slightly damaged and “some injuries were suffered,” although it neglected to mention by whom.

“Nothing about the Preacher.”

“It doesn’t say that any army officers were arrested,” Andy said encouragingly. “You’d think they’d mention that.”