Sartore stood a few feet from the front door of the library. The sky had been covered with clouds since he last saw it, and the wind had grown stronger as well. It was making his eyes water. The people that had been sitting around the front door were all gone, and although Sartore couldn’t rotate his head (his eyes had fixed vaguely on the horizon), he couldn’t see, or hear, anyone else. The breeze felt cool against his skin, goosebumps sprouting up his arms. His heart was beating for something, although he couldn’t tell what. Soon this image would be gone, a distant memory buried by old age and newer generations.

He could see, out of the corner of his eyes, everyone else’s legs. Anastasia and Maisero were among them, although he couldn’t tell them apart.

“I’ll go warn everyone. Good luck.”

“Thank you. What should we do about the boy?”

“Sartore? Keep him safe with the other children.”

“No, Sartore stays with me.”

“That’s definitely not happening.”

“I am his caretaker, I have final say on what happens to him.”

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“Not anymore.”

“He is mine to take care of, you have no business demanding anything of me or of him. I’m taking him now, and this’ll be the last you see of either of us.”

“Where are you going to run to? Must be pretty far. Where are you going to hide? Somewhere the Sacredate won’t find you? If you know of such a place, you could save a lot of people a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe we should keep him somewhere else? Find a safer place for him?”

“No, he stays with me.”

“And are you staying or going?”

There was a moment of silence before the conversation continued. “You all have the extraordinary idea that you have even a sliver of a fighting chance. Maybe all that weapons and combat training I’m certain you’ve been doing regularly with the townsfolk has armed them well enough to fend off the Sacredate’s cavalry. Maybe whatever mercenaries you’re going to send word for will arrive in the knick of time and already have the mettle to win a fight against any of the Sacredate’s men. This is a poor story you’re trying to spin.”

“Are you staying?”

After another pause, the legs funneled into the gate exit and spread out from it. Sartore didn’t move. He wanted to a dark cave that was so deep that at the end of it he wouldn’t see any light, or hear a word or the wind blowing past him. Just lie down and fall asleep there till the storm passed. He had a terrible feeling, though, that even if he did find such a place, the weight in his head wouldn’t disappear.