“Shut up, fat man,” said Sarlby.

“I will see you all punished—”

Sarlby slapped him, and again, and again. Slapped him till his face was pink. “Understand yet?”

Risinau blew a bloody bubble from his nose, breath coming fast and his eyes a little crossed. “Yes,” he squeaked.

Broad stepped through an archway and the Tower of Chains reared up ahead, slim as a lady’s finger, white stone streaked with sooty dirt. He’d heard it toppled the day Bayaz destroyed the Eaters, and he’d had it rebuilt even taller.

A woman near the front must’ve fainted when she saw it, suddenly collapsed, skirt billowing. Broad picked her up under the arm. Not rough, but firm. They could do this without being disrespectful. Guided her back into the queue.

Closer came the tower, and closer. It was like he stood outside himself. Couldn’t change a thing. If he didn’t do this, someone else would, and he’d take the drop with the rest and never go home to Liddy and May.

“Captain Broad,” hissed Brint, from the side of his mouth. “You have to stop this now. You have a chance to stop this.” Broad didn’t speak. Wasn’t sure he could speak.

One of the prisoners was crying. Another tried desperately to wedge himself in the doorway to the tower, pressing his face to the stone. “No! No! No—”

A Burner clubbed him across the skull and he fell senseless, blood from his cut head pattering across the threshold.

“Oh, that’s just brilliant,” said Sarlby, hands on hips.

The man looked a bit put out. “I couldn’t just leave him there, could I?”

“Give him a kick, then! Now we’ll have to carry the bastard. Or you will, anyway.”

“Fuck,” said the man, bending down to heave him over one shoulder.

Onto an endless stair of neatly cut stone, shoving the prisoners ahead. Echoing of footsteps. Echoing of breath, of cries, of whimpers, of words. The tone changed the higher they got. Bluster, at the bottom.

“How dare you!”

“I have friends, you know!”

“You’ll pay for this!”

A glimpse of the rooftops outside the Agriont, through a narrow window. Then came the bartering.

“I can give you a thousand marks. Two thousand!”

“Only let me reach my pocket!”

“I have friends, rich friends!”

Scrape, scrape, scrape of boots on stone. Then came the begging.

“Please!”

“I have three children! They don’t even know what’s happened!”

“Please!”

“I tried to do the right thing. No one’s more loyal to the Great Change than I am!”

“Please!”

All wasted breath. All herded on up the endless stairs.

“Be strong,” someone was whispering, “be strong.” Broad didn’t know if they were talking to themselves or someone else. What difference could being strong make? Strong or weak, the fall was still the fall.

How many steps? Hundreds, it felt like. Risinau’s wheezing getting worse and worse behind him. Not a man built for steps.

“Get up there, you fat bastard.”

“Can’t we just roll him out here?”