‘I was wondering where you were skiving,’ Slvasta said, keeping the tone just right, the joshing bluster – nothing wrong here, no allusion to the disfigurement and thick scars Arnice would be left with even if the surgeons did a good job.

Arnice didn’t reply. His shell was tight, allowing no emotion to show.

‘The girl’s all right,’ Slvasta said. ‘Haranne. The Free Hospital staff are sending out general ’path reports every hour, reassuring people. It’s helping, I think.’

Arnice stiffened, his muscles tensing up. ‘We didn’t do that,’ he ’pathed. ‘My squads are good men; they wouldn’t shoot into the crowd. Not a girl. A child.’

‘I know.’

‘That’s what everyone’s saying. I can hear them, the whole city felt her, they saw her through her father’s eyes. They knew a father’s pain. And they blame us. Me. They hate me for giving the order.’

‘You didn’t give that order. We all know that; your last order was to fire into the air.’

‘And who’s going to remember that?’

‘There’ll be an inquiry. There’s got to be one. You were struck by the mob’s teekay well before the shot was fired; I’ll stand in the witness box myself and swear it. Everyone will know you’re completely innocent.’

‘Officially. That’s what it’ll be: officially vindicated. And we saw today what everyone thinks about official, didn’t we?’

Slvasta gripped Arnice’s hand. ‘We know the truth. That’s what matters. I know. Your friends know. You know.’

‘Slvasta, you’re a good friend. Thank you.’

‘You don’t have to thank friends. Ah, here are the ambulance wagon fellows. Can you walk?’

‘I’m not sure. These damn drugs. I hate them. But there’s not much pain now, thank Giu.’

‘Would you like me to come with you? Or shall I go get Jaix?’

‘No!’ Arnice lifted himself from the cot, and created a thick fuzz around himself to deflect any ex-sight. ‘No Jaix. She can’t see me, not like this. Please, Slvasta, promise me, you won’t let her see me.’

‘Yes. All right, I promise. I have to say, I think you’re underestimating her, though. She’s a lovely girl; she’s not going to be turned away by a few scars.’

Arnice clenched his fist and started hitting it on the side of the cot. ‘Scars? Scars? You moron, I have no face left! I’m going to be a freak. I’m going to be a fucking freak! I can’t live like that. I can’t.’ His voice rose to a frantic shout. ‘What is there now? I shot a girl! I shot her!’

Slvasta tried to grab his fist as it pounded the cot. ‘You didn’t! You didn’t shoot anyone. Nurse!’

‘She’s dead!’ Arnice cried. ‘I’m dead! I can’t live like this. I’m a monster. A monster without a face!’

‘Nurse!’ Slvasta bellowed.

The doctor came running down the aisle.

‘They hate us. Everybody hates us! Kill them. Kill them all. I’ve Fallen, Slvasta, I’ve Fallen! Kill me. Somebody, please!’

Arnice started to thrash about. Slvasta had to use his teekay to pin him down on the cot as the doctor fiddled with the mechanism on the bottom of the drip bottle. It took a few moments, then Arnice subsided. Slvasta looked on in anguish as his friend began to sob.

‘Slvasta. Don’t leave me! Don’t . . .’ Arnice sank back, unconscious.

The doctor patted Slvasta on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. It’s the drugs talking. I’ve seen it a hundred times. He won’t even remember in the morning.’

‘Of course. Thank you, doctor.’

‘They’re taking him to the Hewlitt Hospital now. I know some of the surgeons there, good chaps. They’ll fix up what we can of his face. Damn savages, doing that to him.’

‘Yes, quite.’

*

Slvasta watched Arnice’s unconscious body loaded onto the canvas-covered ambulance wagon. The driver was an ordinary cabby, volunteering to help out. ‘Don’t you worry, gov, I’ll get the major there okay,’ he assured Slvasta. ‘I haven’t lost one today.’

‘Thank you.’ Slvasta hadn’t realized his shell was so flimsy that it was allowing his worry to show.

Keturah hurried across the rear courtyard. ‘Captain?’

‘Why are you still here?’ he asked in surprise.

‘Because you are,’ she said.

‘Oh, Giu, Keturah, you should have gone home hours ago. I’ll get a trooper to escort you.’

‘That’s very kind, sir. But there’s someone here to see you. Says she’s a friend. She was very insistent. The building guards are holding her in the main entrance.’

Slvasta sent his ex-sight out into the building’s main entrance hallway. It was Bethaneve sitting on the bench between two suspicious and tired guards.

‘It’s fine,’ Slvasta told the guards as he walked across the marble floor to her. ‘I know her. Well done for being vigilant. Dismissed.’

Bethaneve hugged him as the guards went back to the front door. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sniffing and clinging tightly, ‘but I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m okay, yes. I managed to dodge the Meor troopers when they were beating the crowd.’

Slvasta gave Keturah an awkward look. The woman’s surprised gaze darted between him and Bethaneve.

‘Ah, right,’ he answered, then cursed himself for his own cowardice. ‘Come on up to my office.’

‘There’s no time. They’ve arrested Javier, Slvasta. The sheriffs beat him terribly and threw him into one of their jail wagons.’

‘Crudding Uracus. When was this?’

‘About five o’clock. They took him to the Ganuzi Street Station. There’s a judge gone there already. They say the judge is using suspension powers to pass sentence.’

‘What’s suspension?’ he asked.

‘The Captain can order suspension of civil laws in an emergency,’ Keturah said. ‘The order came through from the Captain’s Palace this morning. It allows the Meor to use armed force against whoever the local commander believes is threatening the state.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a copy on your desk. I put it there.’

Slvasta just stood there. Too much was happening. He didn’t know what to do or say.

‘They’ll sentence him to the Pidrui mines,’ Bethaneve said. ‘And there’ll be no appeal allowed because the sentence was issued during suspension. Slvasta, he’ll never get out of there. They won’t even admit he’s been taken there. Uracus, they won’t admit they’ve even arrested him.’

Slvasta wanted to ask what the Pidrui mines were; he didn’t like the way there were so many things he was ignorant of. ‘All right, can we get a lawyer? A civil rights one?’

‘There are no civil rights under suspension,’ Keturah said. ‘That’s the whole point of it.’

He gave Bethaneve a desperate look. ‘Then what can we do?’

‘I don’t know. I thought you . . .’ She struggled against her tears. ‘You’re an officer.’

Slvasta tried to think. One thing he knew for certain: Javier wasn’t going to be freed using any legal means. He turned to Keturah. ‘This suspension order, it allows any Meor officer to do what he wants?’

‘More or less, yes.’

‘Can you find that copy for me?’

She took a moment. Her shell flickered, allowing him to sense her thoughts, how much she hated the day’s events, her contempt for the organization she worked for, the haughtiness of the officers. ‘Yes.’

‘Thank you. Please bring it to the back courtyard.’

Keturah gave Bethaneve a quick timid smile. ‘Good luck.’

‘Where’s Coulan?’ Slvasta asked. ‘Did he get arrested as well?’

‘No. He’s outside, fuzzed. We thought I had more chance of getting in here.’

‘Good call. Now, listen: he has to get us a cab. Do either of you know a driver who’ll be sympathetic?’

‘Probably. Coulan knows a lot of people.’

‘Good. Now go and tell him to arrange it, fast. And tell him I’ll meet him on the corner of Enuie Alley and Conought Square in fifteen minutes.’

‘Okay. What are you going to do?’

He gestured down at his filthy uniform. ‘Get spruced up.’

*

In the end, it was so much easier than Slvasta had expected. The mildly fuzzed cab, driven by Coulan, pulled up outside the Ganuzi Street Sheriff Station – a strictly functional four-storey building with three underground levels containing cells. Set back from the road, it was built from a dark brick, with narrow barred windows. The sheriffs inside maintained a constant fuzz, adding to the forbidding atmosphere.