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.At its center, three banners fluttered atop tall poles: the blue and gold flag of the empire, a deeper blue banner sporting the crest of the Imperial House of Tsing, and a long, black pennant set with a pair of silver scales denoting the Royal Magistracy, the judiciary arm of the government.Beneath the flags, the plaza was crowded with wooden structures: gallows, stocks, and tall posts sporting manacles.More than half were occupied.“What in the Nine Hells…”Though Mya’s whisper barely rose over the rustle of the fluttering flags, Lad gripped her arm and nodded toward the squads of guards patrolling the perimeter of the plaza.She fell silent, and they eased back into the shadows.While they waited for the nearest patrol to pass, Lad counted.Corpses dangled from six of the ten gallows.Offenders were restrained in more than half of the score of pillories.In the small forest of whipping posts—there were at least fifty—wretched forms sagged in their manacles, their backs stripped and bleeding from the lash.“Justice.” Lad spat the word like a curse.“What?” Mya whispered, glancing nervously at the patrol.“I said justice.” The display made him sick.“I’ll wager that fellow from the inn’s here somewhere.Fifty lashes for dropping Lady Clovis’ handbag.”Mya’s eyes flicked over the forlorn shapes.“Why haven’t we ever heard anything about this?”“Fear.” Lad nodded to the gallows.“Maybe those are the dissidents.I don’t know.Twailin’s a long way from here.Maybe the truth is lost in the miles.”The patrol neared, the guards talking amongst themselves.Though they paid no attention to the unfortunates inside the plaza, they cast sharp glances outward.Lad gauged the squads, their pace and position.This was going to be dangerous, but Lad had to have a closer look.Grasping Mya’s arm, he nodded toward the close patrol, and whispered for her ears only.“Wait for them to pass.Be ready.”“Ready.”The constables strolled by an easy stone’s throw away, their eyes passing over the shadows that concealed the assassins.Lad squeezed Mya’s arm.“Come on.”They edged out of the shadows into the dappled light of the street lamps and dashed across the wide avenue that bordered the plaza.Lad kept one eye on the patrol, but none looked back.Crouching low, they ducked amongst the pillories.Only when they had crept far enough in that they were no longer visible from the avenue did they slow and stop.Next to them, a man sagged heavily from the wooden stocks.Lad quietly read the parchment tacked to the face board.“Forin Masterson, for insolence to a Noble-Born, five days in the pillory and seventy-five lashes.” He touched the cool flesh of the man’s flayed back, but he didn’t respond.He was dead.“Good Gods of Light.” Mya sounded sick.They moved on to another.“Juliana Tailor, for cheating a Noble-Born with poor craftsmanship, one day of pillory and ten lashes.” The woman’s dress was torn down the back, her pale skin scarred by ten red, weeping wounds.She stirred as they passed, her swollen eyes blinking in the dark.“Please.water…”They had no water, and there was no well nearby.They crept on until they reached the first of the gallows.“Fiona Lorent, for thievery from a Noble-Born, death by hanging, public display of the body, and indenture of descendants for one generation so all shall know her crime.”“She stole food.”Lad froze, and Mya drew a dagger.Neither had noticed the old man huddled in the darkness beneath the gallows.“What?”“She was a cook’s assistant in one of the noble houses.” The man’s wheezing voice sounded like the rustle of dried rushes.“She took food they was gonna throw away.For that, they called her a thief and hung her.She took it for me, and they killed her for it.I killed her.My own daughter.”“You didn’t kill her.” The vehemence in Mya’s voice surprised Lad.There was no cynicism or sarcasm, just anger.She nodded toward the three fluttering flags.“They killed her
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