Chel stood in the slackening drizzle, evening mist mixing with the steam from the smouldering ruin of the outer workshop. The building stood stricken, its tower burned to a smoking nub, the long assembly rooms shorn of wall and roof, their contents blackened and wrecked. He felt much the same, hollowed and collapsed, numb. His mind simply rejected the news, the sight before him.

Tarfel was beside him, standing in the steaming plaza, receiving reports with an expression of stone. He looks the part, Chel thought idly. He didn’t blink when they told him the workshops were lost. Or perhaps he’s simply past caring now.

Again, Chel looked around for Rennic, and again he saw no sign. He’d lost the big man in the race back into the city, and their paths had not crossed since. He wanted to sit down. He thought if he did, he would never stand again.

‘… seems the new chief engineer, your northern alchemist, was inside when the lightning hit.’ A captain was reporting to Tarfel, his accent near-flawless. ‘She attempted to douse the flames, but the tanks were empty, the water drained from below. When she sought help …’ He consulted his notes. ‘A group calling themselves the Children of the Storm pursued her inside, and it seems their interventions exacerbated the damage. Had it not been for the actions of the Clydish mercenary, the engineer would doubtless have died in the fire.’

Tarfel nodded. ‘Any other survivors?’

‘Just the chief engineer. There are … bodies … inside, citizens and refugees, one of our seneschals, an attendant of Exalted Matil. We have the survivors of the group.’

‘Take the chief engineer into protective custody.’

‘Custody, highness?’

‘Protective custody. Keep her somewhere safe, let nobody near her. She is too important to leave at risk.’

‘And the others, highness?’

Kill them all. Chel felt as much as thought it, unbidden to the forefront of his mind. His mouth tweaked in a mirthless smile. So much for righteousness.

The prince paused, reflective. ‘They have caused irreparable harm, but they remain citizens and potential citizens. Good people can have bad ideas. Hold them, and we will try them in more peaceful times.’

The captain saluted and marched away. Tarfel caught Chel’s look and flashed the briefest of smiles. ‘More peaceful times, Vedren, eh? Once the last stone of this city is levelled and its citizens ash, then we’ll come back to our dear prisoners.’ He walked to his next report, leaving Chel uneasy.

He walked to where Lemon lay, tightly bandaged, on a low pallet. They’d cleaned most of the blood off her, and beneath it she looked deathly pale.

‘All right, wee bear?’ she croaked. ‘You’re looking mighty roughty-toughty. Get your arse handed to you on the bridge, eh?’ When she grinned, blood shone from her teeth.

He offered the best smile he could manage. ‘Looking good yourself. Is it true they pulled three bolts out of you?’