She was so fixed on the tower’s top she did not see Curnsbick’s lift until they were almost upon it. But then it had few of the flourishes of the inventor’s best work. A dizzying column of rickety scaffolding, a wooden platform at the bottom with a rail around the edge and chains at each corner. At the sight of it she could not seem to stop her chest heaving, and yet she could not seem to get a proper breath. Suddenly, stupidly, she desperately wanted her mother.

“It’s not too late to talk!” she blurted out.

“It’s always been too late.” Judge thoughtfully raised one brow at her. “Do you know why they call me Judge?”

Savine stared back dumbly.

“Honestly? Neither do I.” She jerked her head towards the lift. “Get her on there.”

Broad half-ushered, half-lifted her onto the platform. She felt so weak she thought she might fall as he stepped up himself, his great boot making the whole thing shudder.

“You have the king,” said Savine. “You could make a deal.”

A few more Burners were finally showing some doubts, but not Judge. “That’s your thing, not mine. No one’ll be deal-making their way out o’ this. You lot, hold the line here! Nobody comes through, you understand? Sarlby, Halder, let’s go.”

They manhandled Orso onto the lift beside her. He still had that mocking smile at the corner of his mouth. The one everyone thought was contempt for the world, but she knew was really contempt for himself. He was as calm as a man on his way to a card game.

He leaned towards her as more Burners crowded onto the lift around them. “Have you ever been up before?”

“What?” she croaked. It was the first time they had spoken in months. Since she begged him for Leo’s life. Since she told him she was his sister. And he talked as if they were polite acquaintances running across one another in the park.

“The view’s astonishing. The perfect spot to watch the Lords’ Round burn. You’re going to love it.”

She stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Are you… joking?”

“I rather think it might be my last opportunity.”

She found she’d given a disbelieving laugh. Laughed and sobbed at the same time, perhaps.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “It’s probably not much comfort, but I’m glad I’m with you.”

“So am I.” She felt stronger for it. Managed to work up the kind of arch glance she might have given him in Sworbreck’s office, long ago. “My mother always told me it’s very important who a girl is seen with.”

“Aw,” said Judge. “This is sweet. Think I might cry, Sarlby.”

“Think I am crying,” said Sarlby, “but maybe it’s the smoke.” There was a tickle of it on the air now, as the flames licked ever higher up the Court of the People. Or was it the Lords’ Round again, just while it burned?

Broad did not look as if he would cry. He looked like a wooden man, moved by Judge’s words like a machine by levers. Another Burner stepped stiffly onto the platform beside them. As if he would much rather have stayed but could not see how to avoid the trip. Savine realised she knew him. One of the men Broad had hired, for labour relations. Bannerman, was it? She had seen him smiling, at the trial. He was not smiling any more. Their eyes met, and he swallowed, the knobble in his throat bobbing.