As the Bhodi disciples made their way through the crowds, more than one onlooker reached out to slap their backs. The disciples took that with poor grace. It told them that many of the witnesses were there to be entertained.
The rite proceeded as before, but more quickly as it was evident that the Greys anticipated trouble and had instructions to head it off.
The kneeling priest in orange burst into flames just as the Greys began manhandling his assistants out of the way.
A gout of smoke leaped upward. A Black Company skull formed inside it, an evil eye seeming to stare deep into the souls of all the witnesses. A voice filled the morning. “All their days are numbered.”
And the wooden curtain-wall shielding the reconstruction came to life. Glowing lime characters as tall as a man proclaimed “Water Sleeps,” and “My Brother Unforgiven.” They crawled slowly back and forth.
Soulcatcher herself materialized on the ramparts overhead. Her rage was palpable.
A second and larger cloud of smoke burst off the burning disciple. A face—the best representation of the Captain’s that One-Eye and Goblin could manage—told the awed and silent thousands, “Rajadharma! The Duty of Kings. Know you: Kingship is a Trust. The King is the most exalted and conscientious servant of the people.”
I began to slide away from there. This was sure to sting the Protector into some impulsive and self-defeating response.
Or maybe not. She did nothing obvious, though a sudden breeze came along. It blew the smoke away. But it fanned the flames consuming the Bhodi disciple. The smell of burning flesh spread out downwind.