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wind. Another strike and an array of windows on a nearby tower was annihilated. Debris began to whip down the street, so fast I could hardly see it through the gloom.
    I hung on. This was a bad one. Already the ink flood had reached my thighs. Opposite me, the women were clutching a tracery of wrought iron framing the doorway in which they sheltered.
    There was a cry, then somebody splashing towards me. I looked to my right to see the two faces of the henchmen; then Atavalens floated by.
    I jammed my crutch in the doorway and plunged into the flood. In water my crippled leg was no disability, allowing me to swim without problem to the centre of the flood where the speed of the water was greatest. In this way I was able to catch up with Atavalens, who, unable to swim, was trying to clutch projections at the side of the street.
    “Hold there!” I shouted, spitting ink from my mouth.
    In seconds I caught the flailing man, grabbing his hand then swimming and reaching out to grasp an iron strut. I tensed my body as the flood tried to wrench Atavalens out of my grip, pulling hard until I saw pale hair; then Atavalens was able to drag himself out of the flood. We clambered upon a broad window ledge, me crouching, Atavalens kneeling.
    But Atavalens was furious. “Did you try to rescue me, rat boy?” He hit me on the chin, then stood up and began kicking me. “You tried to rescue me. Did I ask you to rescue me? Did I call out for help?”
    “Stop!”
    “Did I allow you to grab me, rat boy?” Atavalens kicked hard, then bent over to slap me about the head. “Never do that again!”
    The roaring maelstrom ceased. Atavalens looked up to see the trailing edge of the sootstorm at the far end of the street. He kicked me one last time, then jumped into the shallow side of the flood and began forging a way back to his henchmen. I waited until doorsteps began appearing before hopping back to my first shelter, where I reclaimed my crutch.
    Through water now ankle deep the trio approached me. I cowered before them.
    “I told you to keep out of my way,” Atavalens snarled.
    Raknia and the women approached. Raknia grasped Atavalens’ arm and said, “What are we going to do about all this water?”
    Atavalens was distracted. He nodded. “We have much to do,” he said. “Every channel must be freed so that water can flow freely into the Propontis.”
    I heard myself speaking. “We can’t do that, it would cause massive erosion. We’re supposed to be preserving. We’ve got to block all channels so the water seeps away slowly—”
    “Silence!” Yabghu raged, snatching my crutch and beating me with it. “Silence when the leader speaks!”
    Atavalens grabbed the crutch and pushed Yabghu away. “Leave this to me,” he said.
    He towered over me. I knew I was going to die. I was going to be murdered. I shuddered, one arm raised, as if that would be enough to stop the crutch striking me.
    Atavalens raised the crutch, but then he grimaced, dropped it, then screamed and fell to the ground. On his knees, his left hand clutching his right forearm, he swore, gasped, then screamed again, rolling on his side. Yabghu and Uchagru stood horrified, then ran to grab him. Atavalens screamed louder than ever when they touched his arm, but Yabghu managed to roll enough of his tunic away to reveal pale flesh.
    I saw nothing; it was too dark. But I heard the henchmen speaking in the silences between Atavalens’ screams. “Can you see anything?” “No.” “What’s that there?” “Just a pinprick.”
    Uchagru grabbed Atavalens’ legs and Yabghu his shoulders, and together they lifted the writhing body and began carrying it down the street. Uchagru glanced over his shoulder to shout, “Group dismissed!”
    We were left in damp silence.
    Raknia knelt at my side. “Are you all right?”
    I looked up at her. Yish and Kaganashina were leaving: the street was empty. Inky water trickled through the debris littering the pavements. I said, “I am