We climb out of the vent. Into an alley. Empty. Quiet.

And then — something falls on my head.

Not a rock. Not a bomb. A piece of paper. Parchment. Wrapped around a small stone. A leaflet.

"Что за, — hic —" Bukh mutters. "Did an eagle just shit on us?"

"An aist," Corvin says. He looks up. A white bird is flying away into the gray sky. "A messenger stork. Dropped its load."

I unroll the parchment. Fresh ink. Black letters.

"By order of His Majesty, King Vane: The royal treasurer has been executed for crimes against the people. The council will be purged. The corrupt will be removed. The kingdom will be cleansed."

"King Vane?" Sera says. "I've never heard of him."

Corvin steps forward. Pale eyes.

"You wouldn't have. — He takes the leaflet. — He was a priest. A Bearer of the Holy Word. Now he's a king."

Bukh drinks from his second flask. "A priest king. — hic — Great. Just what we needed."

We walk to the end of the alley. Look out. The square is full. Hundreds of people. Silent. Looking at a platform. A body. Headless.

"The treasurer," I say. "They actually did it."

"Cleansing the kingdom," Sera mutters. "With an axe."