“Except for recruitment,” Rego says.
The crowd bores in. The soldiers’ shield wall expands to collect Husting and Pashing, then condenses again and stiffens. A fish flies past Rego’s head. Rego sees the man who threw it knocked down. The arguments are turning physical. Rego says, “Unless there is order, there will be no bonuses.” This only confuses people, who surge against the shields. Rego feels like he’s on an island.
Pashing says, “Either the guard moves these people back or we do.”
“You move back. Get this wagon out of the plaza. And the city,” Husting says.
A roar erupts from a street east of the plaza and a large band of workers, armed with hammers, awls, and fury, appears. A moment later the gate horn blows three times. Their sympathizers outside will soon arrive and with those already here clamp down like a crab claw on the antiwar faction.
Chelson and Rowan approach the plaza from the east on Hill Street, surrounded by Chelson’s house guards. They hear the singing before they see the band of workers emerge from alleys and lanes behind them. The house guards half draw their weapons at their approach, but when the band sees their badges they cheer.
A tanner shakes a poker like a mad conductor. “Up with the Shield!” he shouts. “Down with Ayden! It’s time they pay.” Some are wearing bits of kit from previous service. Wannabes wear scraps of salvaged uniforms. All carry tools yearning to be weapons.
They part to reveal Herse in full uniform, his sash perfectly ordered for once. He says, “What do you think of my own guard?”
Chelson thinks, These people should be the making of my army, not his. And at least two of the men are the Shield’s. He wonders what work is not getting done.
He says, “We have to speak.”
“Of course.” Herse leaps onto a nearby barrel so he can be seen, holds up his arms, and says to the crowd, “I’ll meet you at the tower in a few minutes. And in a few weeks we’ll meet in Ayden!”
The crowd thrusts their weapons in the air and continues on. Herse jumps down and the guards create a wall around him and their master.
“A dragon did attack the Hopper,” Chelson says. “This powder boy is the only survivor.”
Herse grimaces.
“He can turn it to our advantage, though,” Chelson says. “The dragon was ridden—”
“Ridden?” Herse says. “Mounted-on-its-back ridden?” He holds his hands as if gripping reins. “And flying?”
“Yes,” Rowan says.
“What I could do with that,” Herse says.
Finally, Rowan thinks, someone who’s amazed.
“The boy will tell the Council the rider was Aydeni.”
Herse smiles. “Ayden armed with a dragon,” he says. “That’ll put the fear of night into people.”
A roar erupts far ahead. “If our soldiers haven’t already,” Chelson says.
Eles, the other councilors, and their remora—assistants, accountants, and adjutants—are escorted to South by city guards, then led as a unit to the Blue Tower. Why pay for personal guards when you can use the city’s? And it’s so much more impressive.
Ject, Ravis, and the rest of his own guard take the van. Eles says, “I’ve gotten reports of disturbances all night and people gathering, and I don’t like the way that person is looking at us.”
A scrawny old cabbage dealer with a green headwrap and a thin gray beard peers at them from behind a wagonload of crop. Ject snaps his fingers. Ravis knocks a wave of cabbages over him. The man ducks, crying, “My cabbages!”
“They’re worried about the war,” Ject says. “They haven’t caused any trouble.”
“What business is it of theirs?” Eles say. “They have no skin in the game.”
As they turn into the plaza, a roar erupts on the other side and chants bleed together into a muddle.
Ject doesn’t see anyone from the offices in the tower. That is not a good sign. They’re tougher to scare off than squirrels.
“This is outrageous,” Eles says. “The city will grind to a halt.”
“Sometimes,” Ject says, “it’s better to let a person rage for a few minutes than beat him into raving for a day.”
“And whose minutes are they using?” Eles says. “Ours.” The others, huddled together, nod. “I want these people at their jobs by seven.”
Ject says, “Of course.”
“And arrest those with no better employment,” Eles says. “If there is war, we’ll need the troops.”
Ject looks up to avoid looking exasperated.
A guard stumbles out of the crowd. He pulls himself to attention before his general. Ject says, “Report.”
“A mob for the war just arrived,” the guard says. “They’re armed. Those against it are not.”
“Except for fish,” Eles says. “Let’s see them defend themselves with those.”
“And at the top of the plaza,” the guard points toward Rego’s wagon, “the army is stirring up trouble. They’ve offered a bonus to volunteers.”