She’d gotten a passing familiarity with this part of the city during the time she lived with Jane’s Leatherbacks, and a few hours with the maps had refreshed her memory. The Market was at the intersection of the Green Road and Wall Street, a broad open dirt square where farmers from the south sold their goods to city merchants. The causeway ended at the southern end of the irregular open space, opening out onto the streets of the city. Winter rode off the elevated highway with a sense of relief. One obstacle down, and nobody’s died yet.

“Sir!” A young woman ran up and saluted. “Barricade ahead!”

Well, luck can’t last forever.

*   *   *

The barricade sheltered the top half of the Lower Market, north of Wall Street, where it would be difficult to outflank from either direction. It was mostly made of wagons and carriage, turned on their sides and buttressed with crates and barrels. Musket barrels poked through gaps and loopholes, like the spikes on a strange-looking porcupine. The Girls’ Own had halted out of range, and Winter noted approvingly that Abby had already stationed companies to watch the roads to the east and west. They might try to jump us while we’re engaged here.

“Any firing?” Winter asked Graff, dismounting and hanging Edgar’s reins to a ranker.

“No, sir.” Graff, squat and bearded as ever, looked more at home at the head of his company of women than the last time Winter had checked in on him. “Looks like they’re sitting tight.”

“Might be worth trying to talk, then,” Winter said. “Run up a white flag and send someone over. Tell them if they get out of our way, nobody has to get hurt.”

“Yessir!” Graff turned away. “Sergeant! Get a truce flag ready.”

While he made the preparation, Winter looked back to Bobby, who was still mounted.

“Captain Archer’s battery is somewhere behind us,” she said. “Would you ride back and tell him that if he could hurry along a couple of guns, it would be helpful? Tell Sevran to let him pass.” She looked across at the bristling barricade. “Let’s not storm that thing if we can help it.”

Bobby nodded and reined about. Cyte, also dismounting, returned to Winter’s side as three women set out from the front line toward the irregular mound of vehicles and furnishings, carrying a white flag.

“You think they’ll give way?” Cyte said quietly.

“No,” Winter said. “But it doesn’t hurt to ask.”