The joy he’d felt at seeing her was starting to fade; the weariness eclipsed everything. ‘I don’t understand. The congress starts in a few hours. I’m not going to waver. All I need right now is some rest. Sorry if that sounds selfish, but I’m so tired, Bethaneve.’

‘I know. But first you must come with me.’

She led him through the institute, down several flights of stairs, then into the cellars. Like every building in Varlan, they were extensive, and old. As the walls of the passage changed from brick to bare rock, a small bad part of his mind was glad Tovakar and Andricea were accompanying him; that they were all armed with the formidable carbines Nigel had supplied.

‘Did you ever wonder what happened to all those people Trevene snatched?’ Bethaneve asked. ‘Our comrades?’

They passed a group of men who’d been unloading the oil barrels. Slvasta frowned at them – they all looked scared. ‘They’re sent to the Pidrui mines,’ he said. ‘It was you who told me. That’s one of the first things we’re going to do: set them all free.’

‘Most would have gone there, yes. But some, the special ones, the ones Aothori took an interest in, they’re not there, Slvasta. We can’t rescue them.’

‘Then what . . . ?’

They reached the end of the passage. There was a single thick iron door set in the rock, secured by several heavy Ysdom locks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But you have to see this before you hold the congress. You must never forget the evil we overthrew.’

Slvasta gave her outstretched hand a worried glance. But he took it and let himself be led through the door.

It stank inside. The room was a simple oblong cut into the rock, with iron rails along the middle, guarding the edge of the pit. In the middle of the rails was a gate. Two comrades stood beside it, holding their carbines ready, the safety catches off.

‘This is what they did to us,’ Bethaneve said.

Slvasta inched towards the pit, where the awful stench was even stronger. Bethaneve handed him a bright lamp, which he held out over the dark chasm. Shadows shrank down the walls of the pit, as if they were a liquid draining away. Something moved at the bottom. A face looking up.

Slvasta screamed, and stumbled back. The lamp fell from numb fingers, tumbling down into the pit. He hit the rock wall beside the door and crumpled to the floor. ‘No! NO!’ Tears flooded his eyes as his whole body shook.

‘The professor in charge told me the institute doesn’t just keep eggs for research; they’ve been keeping Fallers here from the very beginning as well,’ Bethaneve said quietly.

Slvasta gave her an uncomprehending stare.

‘When one dies, or they cut it open to examine it in their laboratory, the Marines bring them another,’ she continued. ‘They don’t bother much with the eggs, the professor says, because they don’t have the instruments to analyse them like the first scientists from Captain Cornelius’s ship did.’

‘It’s him,’ Slvasta croaked. His thoughts were threatening to burn his brain apart, they hurt so much. He wanted to shrink to a foetal ball, away from the universe, to spin a shell so strong that nothing could ever get to him. To seal himself off from knowing.

‘The First Officer, yes,’ Bethaneve said. ‘He brought his victims here. He enjoyed watching, Slvasta, when they were cast into the pit. That’s what we have destroyed today, the pinnacle of corruption, of power abused. We were right, Slvasta. Everything we have done, the deaths, the damage. We had to do it. Do you understand now?’

‘Its him,’ Slvasta yelled at her. ‘Him!’

‘Slvasta?’ There was worry in Bethaneve’s thoughts now. ‘It’s all right, my love. We’re going to finish this. The oil will burn—’

‘Shut the crud up,’ Slvasta bellowed. He rose to his feet. His teekay snatched one of the lamps from its bracket on the wall, bending the iron rods holding it. Tovakar and Andricea exchanged a concerned look. ‘The Marines who saved me fired one shot,’ Slvasta laughed, spraying out spittle. ‘I only heard one shot. Why did I never figure out what that meant? It’s so crudding obvious. Isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?’

‘Slvasta?’ Bethaneve moaned in dismay. ‘Please.’

He gave her a wild grin, and his teekay sent the lamp arching through the air. It descended halfway down the pit before he halted it, holding it steady in mid-air. Then he looked down, properly this time.

The floor of the pit was covered in bones – human bones – some of which still had flesh sticking to them. Skulls lay everywhere, smashed open. There were scraps of fabric amid the festering layer of slime which covered the rock floor – clothes from the victims. Boots. Shoes. Buttons and buckles glinted weakly in the lamplight. And there in the middle of it all was the Faller. Looking up, his face displaying that puzzled entreating expression that Slvasta remembered so perfectly.

‘Ingmar,’ Slvasta whimpered.

‘Slvasta. Slvasta, help me,’ the Faller pleaded.

‘You’re not him, not Ingmar. He has Fallen.’

‘But I am Ingmar. It’s me, Slvasta. The Marines cut me free as they did you. Look, I drop my shell to you, my friend. These are my thoughts, aren’t they? Know me. Sense me. This is my essence, my soul. You know that’s true. Know I am genuine. You’re my friend, Slvasta. My friend!’

Slvasta sobbed as he brought his carbine round.

‘No! I have been down here since we were captured by Quanda. In the dark. Alone. They were terrible to me, Slvasta. They torture me eternally. My soul is broken from what they have done to me. Please, Slvasta, please.’

‘You know me, Faller?’ Slvasta growled at his tormentor. ‘Do you?’

‘Of course I do. We grew up together, Slvasta. Do you remember the time when—’

‘I remember my life, for I lived it. So tell me this. Do you remember me saying We will burn you from our world? Ha! Do you, Faller? Do you remember?’

‘Slvasta, please.’

‘You should do. You were there. It is for you I said it. And in your memory I will honour it. Now and forever!’ He pulled the carbine’s trigger and held it down until the nonhuman creature at the bottom of the pit was ripped apart.

*

Cell members had been appointed to supervise each borough council after the Captain and his authority had been overthrown. The sitting elected representatives were dismissed, and fresh open elections promised to the residents. That order was irrelevant in many boroughs; the Citizens’ Dawn councillors were either dead or had fled with their families.

The National Council amphitheatre was still cluttered with broken desks from when the mob had broken in. Files and folders had been flung about and burst, snowing paper everywhere. Iron bars had hacked big chunks out of the First Speaker’s onyx throne, cracking it. Vigorous teekay had pulled statues from every alcove, sending them toppling to the ground, where they smashed apart, inflicting more damage on the chamber’s classical decor. The plaster was pocked with an awful number of bullet holes. Paintings had been ripped off the walls to be burnt in a bonfire outside, while slogans were daubed in the empty spaces.

Sitting on a small wooden stool beside the ruined throne, with Yannrith ever watchful behind him, Slvasta couldn’t help but be disappointed. Behind Yannrith was Tovakar, a necessary concession; a democratic leader shouldn’t need a bodyguard, but there were a lot of people and organizations out there still loyal to the Captain. He’d wanted the first session of the People’s Interim Congress to appear a little more dignified, proving its authority with formality and gravity. Grandeur wasn’t completely essential, but the damage to the chamber looked as if it had been wrought by teenagers wrecked on narnik. However, the comrades directing the First Night Square mob had achieved their objectives. The National Council was no more; over half of the councillors were now locked up in the cellars of the Merrowdin Street sheriff ’s station. Some representatives had fled, others had been caught trying to escape and faced immediate mob judgement. Several were still hanging like grisly fruit from the riccalon trees around the square.