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.They don t think as we do. They wouldn t dare fire on us, Lukan said, arrogantly confident. We outnumber them, five to one. They have alchymical weapons.They don t need to outnumber us. She saw him hesitate for the first time. Alchymical weapons? He glanced down at her, his dark brows drawn close in a frown. No.Hewouldn t dare.There are women and children here. Governor Armfeld! Nina Vashteli called up to the ramparts, her voice stern. Can t we come togetherand discuss these matters in a more civilized way? Tell your mob to disperse! shouted back the governor.He pulled out a white handkerchief and beganto mop his face. What is there left to discuss? yelled a light, passionate voice.Elysia saw that another student, faceconcealed under a broad-brimmed hat, had leaped up beside the standard-bearer. What do we want?Tielens out! Tielens out! Tie-lens out! Other students nearby took up the cry, thumping on doors to emphasize the rhythm. Tiel-ens out! N-now look here! Armfeld tried to raise his voice, but it was drowned in the angry chanting.Elysia saw how red the governor s face had become.The hand that held the white kerchief suddenlywaved in one decisive, furious gesture.Shots rang out and little puffs of white smoke could be seenissuing from the barrels of the left-hand row of carbines.The Smarnan standard wavered and the young man holding it fell to the cobbles.Suddenly the shouting died as Lukan caught Miran in his arms and lowered him gently to the ground.Theother student jumped down to help support him.There was no sound in the citadel now but the distantcrying of gulls. Oh no, no, Elysia heard herself murmuring.The bespectacled student lay pale and limp; blood gushedfrom a wound at the base of his throat.Without even thinking, she had taken out her handkerchief andpressed it hard to the wound in a pad.If it s an artery that s been damaged, she thought, rememberingher anatomy classes, strong pressure must be applied or he will bleed to death. A doctor.Get a doctor! cried out the other student, pillowing the boy s head against his knee.Elysia s white handkerchief had already turned red with blood.Lukan handed her another, alreadyfolded.Miran tried to murmur something. Hold on, Miran, urged the student. Don t try to talk.Just hold on. We need to get him out of the street, Elysia said.Hold on, she echoed silently to the injured boy, tryingnot to remind herself that he was not so much younger than her own son; it could have been Gavril wholay here, bleeding his life out on the cobbles, felled by a Tielen bullet& A stretcher was improvised from a ladder draped with coats, and Miran was hurried into a nearbydoctor s surgery.Elysia followed af-iter, aware that the students were massing outside.The silence that had followed the shooting of Miranwas now replaced by an angry buzz that grew steadily louder.She remembered the crowd that had raged for vengeance outside the Winter Palace in Mirom.Innocentblood had been shed then too.There would be a riot now; she recognized the signs.And nothingGovernor Armfeld could do would stop it. My brother has been shot.And why? Because he dared to hold up our Smarnan flag! Elysia peered out through the little window and saw it was the other student who had seized the standardand was standing at Lukan s side on the top of the well.The broad-brimmed hat she had been wearinglay on the ground, and dark auburn hair streamed unbound about her shoulders.Her voice throbbed withbitter emotion.The citadel square had filled with protestors.And now Elysia saw weapons: axes, pitchforks, sabres,pistols.The Smarnans were by nature easygoing but when they cared about a cause, they would fightto the death. Take care, dear Lukan, she murmured. Oh please take care. The spring sun shone on the imperial dockyards, but the brisk wind off the Nieva stung like a whip.Eugene, well-protected by his greatcoat, hardly noticed the cold.He was inspecting the warships of theSouthern Fleet, which had put into Mirom after a refit in Tielen.And he smiled as he surveyed the newpride of his fleet, the iron-prowed Rogned.The fierce figurehead portrayed the fearless warrior-princessof ancient Tielen legend, gilded braids streaming behind her as she thrust her spear toward the waves. What do you think of her, highness? asked Admiral Janssen, who had been accompanying him on histour from the hold to the upper decks. She looks superb, said Eugene. But how does she handle under sail? Oh she s fast.She completed her trials with flying colors.Sturdily built but with a good wind, she canoutrun all the others. We may need her, Eugene said, nodding, and sooner than we anticipated. Smarna? Janssen s jovial expression became grave.Smarna.Just the sound of the name was beginning to irritateMigyEugene.It seemed to represent all that frustrated him in his efforts to unite the empire. The negotiations have broken down.Armfeld s latest report is frustratingly vague, but he may well needbackup. Just give the word, highness, Janssen said loyally. We ll be ready. They hustled Gavril into another tower.The room into which they brought him was empty except for aniron chair and a wooden trolley covered in a cloth.Gavril halted in the doorway, staring at the chair andthe leather restraints fixed on the arms and feet. Torture? he said.His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Do you mean to torture me? Whatever gave you that idea? Director Baltzar appeared.He was dressed in a brown overall and worea bizarre headpiece with a single thick glass lens attached to it, not unlike a jeweler s loupe. No, I vebrought you here to cure you, Twenty-One. But I m not ill! Put him in the chair. Baltzar turned away and busied himself with unwrapping the contents of the clothon the trolley.The two warders began to drag Gavril toward the chair. Just what do you intend? Panic overwhelmed him.He dug his feet in, resisting their efforts with all hisstrength. Leave me be! He rammed his foot into one of the warder s shins.The warder let go with ashout of pain, and hopped away, cursing.The other kicked Gavril s legs out from under him and pinned him to the floor with the weight of hisbody. Stubborn to the end, Baltzar said with a shrug. Hold him steady. He came up to Gavril and, eventhough Gavril squirmed and turned his face away, pressed a cloth to his nose and mouth.A strongchemical smell issued from the cloth and suddenly the room wavered as all the strength leaked from hisbody, leaving him weak and limp as a marionette.A strong light shone above him.He blinked, unable to focus in its dazzling rays.Where am I?He tried to move his head and found that it was firmly clamped.A thick leather collar had beenbuckled about his neck so that any movement other than blinking was impossible.He looked down andsaw that his wrists were buckled to the arms of the chair in which he sat.Another wide belt secured himat the waist.When he attempted to move his feet, he found his ankles were secured as well.A shadowy form appeared above him and leaned in close to raise one of his eyelids.iHe recognized Director Baltzar. So you re awake, Baltzar said.His voice boomed hollowly, as if heard through water. Good.Thisprocedure only works if the patient is conscious. Procedure? Gavril tried to narrow his eyes against the glare of the overhead lantern to see what Baltzarwas about. Stand ready to swab, Skar, Baltzar said. You know how profusely these incisions in the scalp bleed
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