Darr went down the stair while the lamps were still burning.
Selka heard the first clash from Pel's window. She saw Kerr at the lower landing, hauling the door wider for the freed men. Ruun followed her onto the inner passage, dragging its irons. Anet stayed above them on the ledge, the pendant attached to its live tube, carrying Sorell's cutting tool.
“Keep near the wall,” Selka told her.
“I know.”
The chamber was hotter than Selka remembered. Voss had diverted the hearth's flow to keep the frame's arms clamped over the collar. Beneath it the bronze crown gleamed through steam. The surrender anchor, still in the place she had helped put it.
Voss stood at the lever with three guards.
The anchor lay between Voss and Selka; behind her, Sorell and Iven waited on the service-stair landing beneath the pipe platform. The upper stair led from that landing to Pel's room, its narrow mouth within reach of Voss's guards.
“You could have brought her here safely,” Voss called.
Selka stopped beside the passage rail. Ruun came up behind her. Its wound dripped onto the hot floor and hissed.
“The second hearth is broken,” she said.
“We can build another.”
He was not threatening for pleasure. That was worse. Somewhere downriver men would already be measuring new bronze.
“The prisoners are free.”
“And you're bringing the war home.”
He motioned toward the folded irons on Ruun's body. “Put it back in the frame. Say the pledge properly. I will send your daughter upstairs, fed and warm. You may go with her.”
Anet had reached the small platform above the landing at Selka's back. Selka saw the tube run from her pendant to the branch. The flow held her chest moving. Her face was wet with sweat.
Voss saw her too. He raised a hand toward the guards. “Leave the girl.”
For a moment Selka wanted to accept. She knew exactly how the room would look after: guards lowered, heat settled, Anet in a bed, the god once again silent beneath the city. She could have that. Voss was offering something real.
Behind her Ruun made no plea.
A guard burst through the stair door. Darr struck him back. The captain was bleeding at the side, his coat dark beneath the repaired sleeve. Kerr came after him.
“Stay back,” Darr snapped.
His brother ignored him, grabbed the door and held it while two men passed. Then a spear came through from the lower stair. Darr turned to meet it, too late.
Selka saw the point enter beneath his ribs.
He caught the shaft and held it. Kerr lunged toward him. Darr shoved him away with a hand that had been gentle on the prisoner fence.
“Go.”
Kerr stumbled into the passage. The door shut against the spear. Darr fell beside it, still holding the shaft that no longer had a man behind it.
Selka knelt. He was trying to say something. She bent close enough to hear.
“He's out?”
She looked at Kerr, standing alive in the steam.
“He's out.”
Darr's eyes moved once toward his brother. Selka stayed with him until they stopped.
Above them a wrench struck bronze. Anet had begun opening the last seam.
Voss's hand tightened on the lever. “You can still stop her.”
Selka rose. Kerr tried to kneel where she had been, but one of the freed men drew him back from the door. The men were forcing their way through it again.
“Anet,” Selka called.
Her daughter looked down. No brave smile. No request that her mother make it easy.
“Pel,” the girl said. “We have to try once more.”