Most of the messages, whose dates went back at least two weeks, were concerned with the movement of hidden shipments through the city, and all were unsigned. She put these aside, with mounting frustration. There has to be something here to tie Maurisk to all this. He’d been a canny conspirator when they worked together, but not always a cautious one. He has to slip up somewhere.

There. A long document, with the heading DIRECTORY FOR THE NATIONAL DEFENSE. A list of names—her eyes flicked down it, and then back to the top.

“In the interests of state security and given the present emergency, the following persons are to be arrested with all dispatch . . .”

“The present emergency . . . ,” Raesinia whispered under her breath, scanning the list. The first name on it was Giles Durenne. “Marcus, I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” said Marcus, who’d been poring through another stack of papers.

“Here.” She thrust the list under his nose.

He read for a moment, frowning. “Half these people are deputies. And Durenne?”

“It’s a coup,” Raesinia said. “That’s almost the entire Radical caucus, and a lot of their allies.”

“Nice to see that I rate a mention,” Marcus muttered.

Raesinia looked back to the paper. The name “Colonel Marcus d’Ivoire” was in the midst of a mixed bag of officers of all ranks.

“This is dated two days ago,” Marcus said.

“He’s getting ready.” Raesinia looked around the warehouse. “It can’t be much longer—”

There was a groan of metal, and the front door of the warehouse opened a fraction, letting in the lurid glow from the ship burning outside. Marcus slammed the bull’s-eye lantern closed and dropped to his knees, and Raesinia followed suit. Andy flattened herself behind the nearest caisson. Closer to the door, Raesinia saw the other lantern vanish as Hayver snuffed it and took cover.

“Damn,” Marcus whispered. “I thought we’d have longer.”

Something stabbed into Raesinia’s skull, a sudden pain behind her eyes that throbbed with every heartbeat. She blinked, breathing hard, and it faded slightly, leaving a coppery taste in her mouth.

Raesinia swallowed hard. “What now?”

“Hope they go away.”

“If they don’t?”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll see if they’re willing to risk firing near this much powder.”

The door opened wider. The fire on the ship was still crackling, but over the top of it Raesinia heard another sound, a high-pitched ting that repeated every few seconds. She held her breath for a moment, then peeked around the edge of the desk as strange shadows twisted through the vast space.