and on for some time. A figure in a red robe came to the head of the crowd. A woman, Caina saw, and an old one, to judge from her halting step and the cane in her left hand.
“That robe,” said Caina. “Is that…”
“Aye,” said Ark. “She’s a priestess of the Living Flame. The Saddai commoners will do whatever she says.” His voice tightened. “In fact, I think that’s…”
“Hear me!” The woman’s voice, rich and strong, rolled over the square. The volume of it astounded Caina. “Lord Governor Anatsius Nicephorus, hear me! I am Tadaia, a Sister of the Living Flame, and I have been chosen to speak for the Saddai of Rasadda!”
“You know her?” said Caina.
“Everyone knows her,” said Ark. “She is the eldest Sister of the Living Flame, the preeminent priestess in Rasadda, and much loved among the poorer Saddai.” He hesitated. “If not for her, the Saddai would have erupted in revolt years ago. But she’s never done anything like this before.”
Tadaia’s great voice rolled on. “We come in peaceful petition as loyal subjects of the great Emperor of Nighmar. The people have been driven from their land so that cattle might graze where once wheat grew, and we are hungry. The grain dole is not enough, Lord Governor. Our men go hungry, our women suffer in silence, and our children go to bed with empty bellies. Give us justice, Lord Governor, and succor to those under your protection.”
The crowd murmured approval to her words.
Caina wondered how many of them had flame tattoos upon their chests.
The doors to the Basilica swung open. A troop of militia marched out, Valgorix at their head in his plumed helm. The men gripped crossbows with nervous hands, eyes sweeping over the throng.
“Depart at once!” Valgorix’s voice seemed weak compared to Tadaia’s, but Caina could still hear it clear enough. “This is an illegal assembly, in violation of Lord Governor Nicephorus’s decree. If you depart immediately, no punishment will be leveled upon you, but should you linger, the consequences shall be dire!”
An angry rumble went through the crowd. But Tadaia’s voice rang out once more. “The people hunger, and unless the grain dole is increased, we shall soon starve.”
“You will have to make do with the grain dole,” said Valgorix, his face pained. “Are you starving? Then find work, and purchase your own food.”
“There is no work to be had, you know this,” said Tadaia. “These people were driven from their lands by the corrupt and wicked, and had no choice but to come to Rasadda. Shall we grow food from paving stones and courtyards?”
“Be off at once!” said Valgorix. “This is your final warning!”
“Look,” said Ark, his voice low and urgent. “Horsemen. There, there, and there, at the mouths of those streets.”
Caina nodded. “And crossbowmen there, and there, on the parapets of the Basilica.”
Ark snarled a vicious curse. “If Tadaia refuses to leave, Nicephorus will slaughter them all. And if Tadaia is killed, the city will explode in revolt.” He shook his head, every muscle radiating tension. “And if this city goes up in revolt…it will drown in an ocean of blood before the end.”
For a moment neither Tadaia nor Valgorix said anything. Caina saw more horsemen maneuvering in the streets, saw the crossbowmen wind and load their weapons. The tension in the air turned electric.
Then Tadaia took a step backwards.
“We wish for no blood to be spilled today,” she called. “And let every man and woman mark it well: we came in peace to our Lord Governor, and he threatened us with death. So be it! But we shall return in a week, and the week after that, until justice is done.”
Valgorix said nothing, but his men raised their crossbows. And then Tadaia turned her back to them and faced her people. The sheer courage of it took Caina’s breath away.
“Do not be bitter, my brothers and sisters!” said Tadaia. “Let us