That was not her job. Her power lay in dreams, not in waking hours, and nothing she could say would calm the crowd. That was Galbraith’s job, and Galbraith was choosing to be an ass. Truly, it was as if he had simply stopped caring whether the others were on his side.
As if he wanted the war.
She moved further back, watching, because the crier had given up on trying to translate, and there was no longer any reason to try listening.
The English, at least, she understood well enough. They were furious, accusatory, convinced that someone had tampered with the truth serum or had enchanted Clay beforehand.
That was ridiculous, Jadwiga would have said, if she had been able to shout loud enough to be heard over the noise. And if she had been entirely certain that it actually was ridiculous. H
