Amon’s mind raced. “All right. I can bring you out of here, but you’re going to have to give up your weapons, and I’m going to have to take you out under guard.”

Loud protest erupted from all sides.

“Listen to me!” For a small person, Raisa had a commanding voice. “Listen,” she repeated. “I know you’ve reason to hate bluejackets. But I know Corporal Byrne, and I know he wouldn’t lie to you.” Then she turned to Amon and demanded, “Why do we have to give up our weapons?”

Amon leaned in close and spoke so only Raisa could hear, ignoring the dirty looks from the others. “Because it can’t look like I’m setting you free,” he said. “The Bayars have eyes and ears everywhere. They don’t care about dead Southies, but if it looks like I’m loosing criminals on the streets, they’ll use it against my da.”

Sarie pushed her way between them. “Who are you, anyway?” she asked Raisa. “How come you and this bluejacket are so chummy? You say Cuffs sent you, but he may be dead for all I know. I’ve not even seen him for a year.”

Amon was losing patience. “If you all don’t want to come, fine. You stay here, but Rebecca’s coming with me.” There was more grumbling all around, and he added, “Take it or leave it.”

This was followed by a clamor of “Put ’im in the cage with Gillen!” and “We’re leavin’ it, then!”

But Sarie raised her hand for silence, her eyes locked on Amon’s face. “Fair enough,” she said. “But we’ll take our shivs wi’us, hid under our coats.” She stowed her dagger under her jacket. “And I’m keeping the girlie close to me. Try anything, and she’ll be the first one down.” She put an arm around Raisa and drew her in close, her other hand resting on her weapon.

Amon’s impulse was to rip Raisa free and drag her away with him, but she looked at him and shook her head, a movement so slight, Sarie missed it.

“All right,” he said. “Let me…give me a minute.”

He ducked through the doorway, between the torches, and walked back toward the front, painfully aware that his back made a tempting target.

Back in the duty room, the other guards peppered him with questions, and he had to hold up a hand for silence.

“They want an audience with the captain,” Amon said. “To tell their grievances. I agreed. So we’re going to bring them out under guard.” Ignoring the muttering of surprise and muted protest, he scanned the crowd and chose out his cadets. “Mick, Hallie, Garret, Wode, Kiefer, come with me.”

“You want us to jump ’em soon as you’re clear of the cells?” one of the bluejackets asked, fondling his club.