“Put that book away and pay attention,” she said. The boy sighed as he obeyed, scowling at the speaker.

Chairman of the Directory of National Defense Johann Maurisk did not cut an imposing figure. He was tall but painfully thin, the hanging folds of his dark coat making him look like a scarecrow, face pale under a gray bicorn hat. He did have a strong voice, though, strong enough to ring out across the square and quiet the murmuring of the crowd.

“Citizens of Vordan!” he said. “We are gathered here to bear witness to a great step forward. One more relic of the past, laden with superstition, is swept away by the miraculous products of the modern age!”

There was a cheer from the crowd, but not a loud one. Banners fluttered and whipped in the wind, held aloft on poles or in raised hands. Blue and white for the Radicals, black for the Conservatives. The factions in the deputies were mirrored among the common folk, and pockets of color were mixed with blobs of black. Bedsheets and pillowcases dyed with ink flapped as the Conservative supporters cheered for their hero, while the Radicals remained ominously silent.

“The genius responsible is Doctor-Professor Sarton,” Maurisk went on. “I will let him explain the workings of the device.”

Emil, who’d sagged with boredom as the de facto ruler of Vordan spoke, raised his head as the scholar beside the metal table straightened up. This was Doctor-Professor George Sarton, whose work the Directory had so enthusiastically embraced. Back before her father’s death, when Raesinia had been sneaking out of the palace to organize the student radicals against the Last Duke, Maurisk and Sarton had been members of the inner circle of her conspiracy. He was an awkward, gangly man, with an unfortunate stutter that turned his face red with the effort of forcing out the words. He addressed Maurisk directly, leaving the rest of the assembled dignitaries to stare at the back of his head.

“I have made a s . . . s . . . study of the methods of execution used by the kings of Vordan,” he said. It sounded like a rehearsed speech. “They have always been cruel and inhumane. A modern s . . . s . . . state may require men to die for their crimes, but it takes no pleasure in cruelty. I wanted to provide a means to end a life with an absolute minimum of pain.”

Sarton turned to the metal table, running his hands across the steel with evident pleasure. “Hanging,” he went on, “requires a great deal of s . . . s . . . skill on the part of the hangman to produce a quick death. Having one man who must fill the role of executioner is against the principles of equality embodied by the Deputies-General. A mechanism is much more s . . . s . . . suitable.