“That’s something.” In truth, it was much better than Marcus had expected. He’d hoped the Preacher could tell him something about the bomb, but he hadn’t expected much. All Marcus knew about powder was that it came in little paper cartridges. “Maybe we can track down the source.”

The Preacher nodded. “Good luck. My boys and I are at your disposal if you need anything.”

Marcus looked at the scurrying students. They were boys—and one girl—young, unseasoned, and enthusiastic. After a few more weeks of the Preacher’s instruction, they’d be handed off to Janus, who would throw them into the fire. After that . . .

“Luck to you, too,” he said quietly as he turned away.

Marcus walked back to Twin Turrets, by way of the Saint Dromin Street Bridge. Vordan City was changing around him, and one of the most visible signs of the times was the near disappearance of carriages from the streets. The army had an insatiable demand for horses, both to mount the outmatched Vordanai cavalry and to serve as beasts of burden alongside oxen and mules. The Ministry of War had scoured the streets for animals, and those that remained commanded ten times the price they had previously.

There were still two in the stables at Twin Turrets, along with a small coach, but any vehicle was an object of curiosity now, and Marcus preferred to avoid the attention. Those carriages he did see were pulled by laboring teams of unfit animals, and carried men wearing the blue-and-black-striped sashes of the Patriot Guard. These rattled back and forth between the Cathedral, where the Deputies-General sat, and the Hotel Ancerre where the Directory had its headquarters.

Other effects of the war were more subtle. The price of a four-pound loaf, the staple of the working poor, had dropped after the revolution, but it had never reached the one eagle that Danton had promised, and since the start of the war it had begun a steady upward march. Armed guards once again stood outside bakeries, protecting the proprietors from hungry customers. Prices of other goods fluctuated wildly, but always with ruinous effect: coffee had virtually disappeared from the shops, while warehouses bulged with stacks of cheeses and bolts of cloth unsalable at any price.