enough to gain his father’s respect? And even if he could slip past Tesarik’s net? Gerrit had spent the last week practicing transitions out of true-life and following Filip back to his core nuzhda, for all the good it had done. Sousednia still pressed against Gerrit’s senses, and he had no idea how to find something in true-life that he couldn’t bear to leave. Maybe if his mother were still alive—
He crushed the thought. Faced with Tayemstvoy traitors, Gerrit could not afford weakness.
When Filip turned back, he’d regained his strazh calm. “Captain Vrana told me to make sure we went to the circus. She wanted you to pay attention to the high wire act.”
“She what?”
“It has to be some sort of clue,” Filip said. “She must think there’s something we can do.”
Gerrit straightened his shoulders and drew a steadying breath. “Let’s go figure it out.”
ON THE CIRCUS midway, a band’s cheery march punctuated the crowd’s babble. Over a loudspeaker, a man extolled the sideshow’s virtues. “In just minutes, a fearless fire-eater will extinguish a burning torch by swallowing its dancing flames! Yes, brave Bourshkanyans, he will eat fire before your very eyes!”
The midway, however, already crawled with horrors. Civilians wore their Storm Day best, bright fabrics and embroidery distracting from the uniformed Tayemstvoy prowling their midst. Gerrit scrutinized the Tayemstvoy faces, as though he’d find clues about their plot so easily. How had he never noticed how many red shoulders watched him? For every Storm Guard cadet or officer, he counted two Tayemstvoy. How many more dressed as civilians to better overhear whispered conversations?
As though summoned by the thought, Tesarik stalked through the crowd. A four-meter-high canvas poster baked in the sun behind him, showing a woman’s head on a spider’s body. “Alive!” it promised in marigold above her web.
Tesarik spotted Gerrit, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile.
As he sauntered over, Filip placed a steadying hand on Gerrit’s back. “Breathe,” he whispered.
The sweet smell of frying ponchiki and the heavier greasiness of sausages wafted towards them. Jungle shrieks from the menagerie cut through the crowd, inhuman and ominous.
“Enjoying yourself, Cadet?” Despite the dense crowd, a bubble opened around them; no one dared jostle a Tayemstvoy colonel.
Gerrit tried to force out a bland ‘yes sir,’ but the words wouldn’t come. “Is Ademik hurt?” He struggled not to imagine Branislav bruised and bleeding, chained in another cell.
“Nothing that won’t heal.” Tesarik gave Gerrit a slow once-over, as though inspecting a shipment of cartridges the wrong caliber to fit their guns. “I’ve ordered his neighboring cell cleaned out. I expect it will be... occupied soon.”
Ice chilled Gerrit’s veins. Branislav must have imbued, must have proved to Tesarik’s satisfaction that storm-mad mages could be managed. “Did Ruzhishka imbue?” He fought to feign a cold detachment as he imagined Hana snarling at the end of a chain.
Tesarik brushed imaginary dust from his immaculate sleeve. “Ademik achieved a Category Seven combat imbuement. The Stormhawk is most pleased.”
Gerrit had never even seen a Category Seven imbuement. How had they tortured Branislav to force that? What demon would he see if he touched sousednia near his friend? “And Ruzhishka?”
Tesarik stepped so their chests nearly touched. Lowering his voice so Gerrit had to strain to hear, he said, “Another storm is predicted in two days. I expect you’re anxious to serve the State, little Kladivo.”
The Tayemstvoy colonel turned away, taking two steps before pausing. People started to edge around Gerrit, but he waited, motionless. Tesarik was baiting him.
Tesarik turned back, and people skittered away like cockroaches. Tesarik met Gerrit’s gaze and held it, waiting for Gerrit to break. Sweat slid down Gerrit’s back, cold despite the glaring sun. He held Tesarik’s stare, refusing to look away. Tesarik might cheer at driving him storm-mad, but Gerrit would uncover his plans, would find some way to stop him before he could destroy the regime.
“Your father sends his regards.” Tesarik smiled. “He’s looking forward to seeing what you can do when... motivated.”
Hands fisting at his sides, Gerrit watched Tesarik disappear into the crowd.
“Step right up, brave Bourshkanyans!” A cheery voice called from kilometers away. “Don’t miss a spectacle that will amaze and astonish!”
Heavy clouds bulked overhead, blocking the midway’s sunshine, and the sound of blows drowned the band. As Gerrit’s combat nuzhda swelled, the need to wrap his hands around Tesarik’s throat overwhelmed his awareness of the crowd. He reached out with his thoughts, seeking the storm that had faded into vague, distant rumblings. Tesarik thought himself untouchable. See how