The first explosions came near dawn, in that space between the lightening of the sky and the sun breaking over the horizon. Into the eerie calm they issued crashing exclamations, rattling and shaking the bedrock of the road. Carts and horses were sent screaming away from the scene; blackened faces and arms and legs were tossed like scraps of paper in a campfire, weighing no more than leaves.

Those around remember every detail in perfectly clear and contradictory accounts, recalling how there were seven masked men, or nine, or eighteen, scrambling along the rooftops away from the fires as the oily road carried the flame into the storehouse, how the black powder went off in stages, or all at once, how the Seventen took hours to respond or were already on the scene.

And at once, the city took on the air of waiting, the stillness before the thunderstorm, and the air was heavy like a blanket, suffocating all talk and enforcing seriousness better than any edict or decree might have done. The citizens went about their day, knowing the price of bread had risen one ha'tally and that five galdori were dead, that the ferry went across the Arova at nine o'clock and that there were more Seventen on the streets than usual, that nothing would ever be the same (but cabbages were half price due to mild leaf-rot at the corner stall in Kingsway Market, where the streets were stained forever with the blood of innocents).

The barrage of contrary thought plagued them worse than gadflies, and at times they would remember the horror of what had happened that year and cringe into their coffees.

The Queen's Security laws passed without a whisper of complaint after that, and no one dared to mention them aloud. The Horse Street Affair had the galdori up in arms about "gunpowder", as they called it now, and shipments of potassium nitrate were temporarily halted, causing widespread disarray in the factories that used it. The blackened cobbles reminded everyone how terrifyingly close they were to chaos. Soon, humans were being searched in the streets, and the citizens of Vienda became very good at pretending it wasn't happening.

It was not long before someone struck back for the bloodshed on Horse Street. Human-run businesses became prime targets for vandalism; students on holiday became fond of breaking windows or torching thatch. It couldn't all be the kids, of course; it was clear that mischievous adult galdori got in on the fun too, painting hangmen on the doors of humans who had annoyed them in the past, smashing carts and doors. It was all good fun. Several humans were left homeless, but it was all good fun.

The air of resentment was tight with hidden fury as humans handed galdori customers their wrapped fish or bolts of fabric, or as galdori officers passed human families in the street, their sneers matched only by the unmitigated contempt they received.



Jon Serro had his head down over his desk; his eyepatch hung around his neck. Alyssa Pierre tried not to look at his face as she bent over him, putting a bony-knuckled hand over the paper he was studying - another passenger manifest.

"She's not there," she whispered, annoyed at how commonplace this had become. "You are meeting with Beta in ten minutes, in the Alcove. I'll escort you."

He greeted her with a restrained snarl. "I've met with them twice this week already," he snapped. "What, more dead? Already? Is that it?"

"They're concerned about the mole..."

"As are we all," said Serro, "but I told them to leave the matter to me."

"And a fine job you're doing, sir." Alyssa frowned and turned away from him, heading towards the trapdoor.

His grip was like a vice on her wrist, and he twisted her around to look at him. Her dark eyes were impassive, but a flicker of fear passed over her face; he smiled a little to see it, as it was comforting to him. He sometimes worried about Alyssa.

"If there is a galdor in our midst, giving us away, I will find him," he said, maddeningly calm.

"You're spending too much time looking for that clocking witch," blurted Alyssa, pulling away and flinging her long black curls from her face. She turned red at his glare. "It's a lost cause, Jon. Focus on actually doing something, not just searching for a useless symbol!"

"She is not useless!" he growled. "Emme is the key to the door to freedom. It's Azmus that's passing all these laws, not the bloody Queen...it's Azmus keeping the wicks from Vienda...if we can bring him down, prove that he's a lying, disgusting hypocrite..."

"Prove to whom?" she shouted. "The galdori? I thought this was about inspiring the people, Jon..."

"She inspired a crowd of hundreds!" His eyes bulged.

"You inspired them."

"Just because," he said, breathing heavily, "just because you failed to find her...just because Ceres failed to retrive her...you want me to give up."

"I want you to see that there are more important things! All around you, Jon! Recruitment is up, spirits are high. The rescue from the gaol was inspirational. And these laws...everything is turning out all right. We're ahead. They're afraid. We've got to stay focused, or we'll lose them again as we did when Ford died."

Serro's expression grew darker and he drew in a breath. She did not understand; she was shortsighted, youthful, obsessed with the present and neglectful of the future. Alyssa could not see the big picture, didn't understand how very important it was to win hearts and minds. And she thought she could lead them...a woman, leading the resistance...

He pushed her away, as she had come close and put her spidery hands on his chest. She looked hurt.

"Lead me to Beta, then," he said, not wanting to argue the point further. Let her win this one, let her think herself superior. The manifest would wait. The search would continue until he had that girl, and all the hearts and minds of Vienda captured in her big, pathetic doe eyes.

(( OOC comments welcome! Feel free to write your own IC reactions to the L29 Horse Street Affair in a new thread or as a response to this one. It is well known, even if the general public is keeping silent about it. ))