A crowd was waiting for them in the plaza, seemingly not discouraged by either the cold depths of night or the threat of imminent bombardment. At first, Chel took them for well-wishers, come to cheer on the brave stalwarts resisting the invaders through ingenious means. But in the dancing torchlight, there was something in their eyes, something of their travel-stained clothes, a detachment, a burning zealotry, that told him they wished them far from well. He recognized some of them, by appearance at least: refugees from the roadside, the wild-haired types who’d been building a shrine on the plateau, joined by others, some from the city, some from far beyond. Their arms snaked with whirling tattoos and designs, spreading like tree roots, and their stares were hostile.

One of them stepped forward, a long, blackened branch in his hands, halfway between walking stick and weapon. Exactly what Rennic had done when he had posed as a beggar. The man gestured with the stick, up at the tower overhead, and barked something in a dialect Chel didn’t recognize. Another approached, a smaller woman, her arms rich with whorls. Everything blurred in the low light, but to Chel the lines looked much like the scars that had adorned the arms of the crazed box-preacher in Denirnas. The woman he’d saved from the Rose.

‘What are you doing up there?’ the woman asked, translating or moderating. Her accent was southern, her features battered and blocky.

A step ahead of Chel, Kosh waved an irritated hand. ‘Get out of my way.’

‘You’re the alchemist,’ another member of the assembly cried. ‘You’re the one doing it all.’

Kosh raised an eyebrow. ‘Doing what?’

‘Offending the Mother!’

Chel blinked. God’s breath, not here. Not now.

‘You’re building machines, unnatural engines, as bad as those raining fire on us!’

Kosh’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes,’ she said, slowly. ‘But these are to … defend you.’

‘She admits it!’

The cries from the mob rose in pitch, and they began to shuffle forward, enclosing the doorway. ‘The skies are her domain! You defile it with your perversions!’

Of course they’re maniacs, Chel thought, edging back toward the door and nodding for Kosh to join him. Who else would be out at this hour, in a city where death could fall from the sky at any moment?

He bumped into Lemon coming the other way. ‘Who’s this bunch of numpties?’

‘Defiler!’ the chant went up. ‘Defiler! Defiler!’

‘Oh aye, dribblers, is it?’

Foss emerged from the doorway, momentarily filling it, standing up to his full height beyond. Rennic was behind him, his crates parked, a wicked knife already loose in his grip.

‘Friends,’ Foss said, his voice somehow carrying over the noise of the mob, ‘I’m sure all we have here is a misunderstanding.’

‘You’re one of them! You are party to the desecration of the Mother’s domain!’