The next day, Lady Barmaki, her children, and servants are taken away—under protest—by the Army. The captain who comes to escort them is apologetic but firm. The plan to distribute food and water to No Town’s residents is canceled and all the supplies commandeered for the Army’s use.

Well, not all the supplies. Hallon tosses a loaf of bread to Mrs. Tabriz next door. The Standing Goat’s pantry is fuller than ever thanks to some creative accounting on Wahid’s part. The extra food is being transferred window-to-window to the other households in the Haughty Maiden.

One floor below, the General collects news from the eldest Tabriz son. The patrols have increased, and there are now two snipers stationed in the Haughty Maiden, including one on the roof of the Tabriz’s building. There’s no news about the explosion at Groud’s Factory though. Nothing dependable anyway. The last rumor was that the Army had knocked the factory down with cannons. The one before claimed that it was overrun by Hidden from under the city.

Mrs. Tabriz cuts through Hallon’s worries. “Is that Taric? He’s gotten outside.”

Taric Sanass is a Brown who lives across the street. He’s often out playing with his ball and waves to Hallon whenever she passes by. He waves to everyone, and everyone in the Haughty Maiden looks out for him. That’s the way things work in No Town. There are so many Browns and Yellows—people look out for them to make sure they don’t get hurt.

Something must’ve upset Taric. He’s in the middle of the street making inarticulate noises. His father runs out after him, but Taric’s strong and doesn’t cooperate. He refuses to budge.

Bread forgotten, Mrs. Tabriz yells. “Get inside!”

Up and down the street, others notice and yell out. “Hurry! Look out! The sniper!”

A rifle barrel pokes out from the corner of the Tabriz’s roof. No one’s allowed outside. No one except the Army and Civil Order troops. The snipers are to make sure of that.

Hallon is as helpless as everyone else. There’s no way to reach either Taric or the sniper in time. “Hurry,” she yells, joining her voice to the chorus. “He’s going to shoot! Hurry!”

Safi sprints from the Standing Goat to help Mr. Sanass lift Taric. As they stand him up, a gunshot overwhelms the neighborhood voices. Blood splatters. The force of the bullet knocks Taric to the ground, and his father with him.

The voices return to fill the emptiness after. “Run! Run! Run!”

Safi helps Mr. Sanass to his feet. They stumble towards his house.

Helplessness be damned, Hallon runs for the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. Outside, shots ring out. Twice. Thrice. Fearing the worst, Hallon bursts through the door onto the roof. She sprints for the edge to leap across the gap between buildings to catch hold of a set of window bars on the Tabriz house. One of the bars tears away, but the other holds. She levers herself up, reaching for hand and toe holds, climbing to the roof like a spider.

The shooting continues. Bam! Bam! Bam!

The sniper works the bolt action of his rifle when one of the Tabriz boys—Nidam—runs at him. The two struggle for control of the weapon. Nidam knees the sniper in the groin. He follows up with a kick out to send him stumbling back against the low wall and over the side. The sniper’s scream cuts short when he hits the ground four stories below.

Hallon tackles Nidam, pulling him down. A bullet pings off the stone wall. Hallon takes a quick peek—the sniper five buildings away takes aim, Taric’s body lays still in the middle of the street, a blood trail leads to the Sanass house. Rahima wheels towards it, the General chasing after her.

Nidam fires his newly acquired rifle. The shot goes wide, but it’s enough to send the other sniper into cover. Hallon pulls Nidam down again. A bullet whizzes by.

“Let me up,” Nidam says.

“No, he’s a better shot than you are. You’ll just end up dead.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve had enough!”

Another bullet pings off the stone, and Hallon is forced to hold Nidam down. She switches grips, aiming for sensitive points on his wrists. His hands spasm open, and she kicks the rifle away.

“Damn Untainted,” he says. “I knew you’d stick to your kind.”

“I’m saving your life,” Hallon says. “Now stay down.”

The sniper sends bullets whirring past like bees. But the gunfire stops suddenly, replaced by angry voices. Hallon switches grips to make sure her hold on Nidam is solid. A quick peek shows two women beating the sniper. One has a copper pan, the other a stone rolling pin. The sniper’s arms hang broken.

Hallon lets Nidam go, and the young man scrambles for the rifle. He runs for the stairs, and Hallon follows after, passing through the gathered members of the Tabriz family before flying out the front door. Around her, people step out into the street for the first time in days. They’re drawn to the body of Taric Sanass, but Hallon keeps going. She’s more concerned with the living than the dead. Inside the Sanass house, she finds Rahima binding a gunshot wound on Mr. Sanass’s leg.

Safi stands to the side, dazed. “They killed Taric,” he says. “They killed Taric.”

Mrs. Sanass is collapsed in the corner wailing. The General is doing his best to comfort her, but she’s inconsolable.

Outside, Taric’s body is lifted up. The sounds of the people turn ugly, like a dog’s growl. A man yells, “Kill the Untainted.” The words turn into a chant, carried along with Taric’s body. In moments, the individual faces blend together into a mob.

The General’s voice is mild in comparison. “If you please, Hallon, close the door before they see us.”

She does, but not before spotting an Army patrol rounding the corner to the south. They’re surprised by the size of the crowd and shoot in panicked, wild fire. Red mists the air, but the mob is bigger than the handful who die. The Gloops’ anger, long held in check, explodes. The soldiers are pulled from their vehicles and trampled, their limbs torn from their bodies.

The gunfire draws another patrol, this time from the north. Hallon ducks as a machine gun opens fire. A line of people at the mob’s boundary fall. Enraged, the people of No Town rush towards the guns. Dozens are killed, but the wave overtakes the soldiers, smashes against them, and overturns their half-track.

Voices howl with grief. The mob grows as people pour into it. The bodies of the dead are lifted up and the story of their deaths circulated. The air thickens with blood and violence. Hallon has seen mobs before, seen how quickly they can form, but this is too fast. Supernaturally fast.

The mob splits in two directions, and the street empties. The bodies of the fallen Gloop are taken with them, but the mangled remains of the soldiers are left behind. Hallon waits a good half hour before cracking the door open. The inn’s door opens in response, and Wahid pokes his head out. They run to meet each other halfway.

Wahid grips Hallon’s hands. “Are Rahima and Safi all right?”

“They’re fine. Unhurt. You?”

“Yes. I locked up as soon as I saw what was happening.” His eyes rove, not wanting to rest where there’s blood and gore. “This is awful. What are we going to do?”

“You’re going to take Rahima, Safi, and the General back to the inn and lock up tight. I don’t think the mob will come back, but there’s no way to know for sure.”

Wahid nods. “What about you?”

“I’m going to look for Milo. Civil Order is going to have more to worry about than me, aren’t they?”

Wahid’s hands clench, but he doesn’t try to stop her. She already knows it’s dangerous. She already knows to be careful. “Good luck,” he says.

Hallon nods and lopes away.