‘Then they’re not coming?’ Ida said.

‘It seems unlikely, ma’am,’ the colonel replied.

She was about to protest the woeful inadequacy of this when the child cried out suddenly, ‘I want my mother.’ Her voice reverberated strangely in the vast space; it was accompanied by a queer crackling sound, like distant cannon fire.

The colonel reached into his satchel and pulled out a fist-sized ball of baked clay. A short fuse extended from its wax-sealed top. He examined the munition carefully, then glanced up at the vaulted ceiling. ‘Banks,’ he said to the second man sharing his side of the aisle. ‘I’d like your opinion on the roof.’

This soldier was much younger than his companions, but he surveyed the gloomy space above them with the grim demeanour and confidence of a much older man. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. ‘The Unmer built this whole place,’ he replied. ‘Those corbels date back to the Lucian Wars. The problem is, I can’t tell exactly what’s above them from down here. We blow that roof, and we might bring down more than just rubble.’ He paused and sneezed into his hand. ‘Dragonfire would be better.’

‘Did you bring a dragon, Banks?’ the colonel said.

The younger soldier looked as if he was about to say something, then he shook his head wearily and returned his gaze to the ceiling. ‘We must be close to the Unmer ghetto, sir,’ he said. ‘Bring that down on our heads and the emperor will not be happy.’

‘What do the maps say?’

He blinked watery eyes, then gave a grunt. ‘What maps? Hu doesn’t consider the Trove Market close enough to his palace to warrant the expense of a survey. The Haurstaf would know, but-’

‘Blow the roof?’ Ida exclaimed. ‘What do you mean, blow the roof?’

‘Standard procedure, ma’am,’ the colonel said. ‘Nothing for you to be concerned about.’ He stood up, stared intently at the little girl for a moment, then turned to the big soldier by his side. ‘Fire a round at the child, Sergeant Creedy. Aim for her head.’