Korva is at home when the riots begin, in the tiny spare room that she's subletting from an elderly woman, who lets them stay for just a silver a week if they also do a smattering of chores. There are no screaming babies to take to the goat at all hours of the night, no toddlers getting out of their beds to explore, no four-year-olds tugging on her clothes and begging her for another story. Axis is your own room, eight feet by twelve feet, shared with only one other wholly reasonable person, and a reasonable portion of bread and cheese in your stomach.

They've been way behind on the chores since the convention started. Korva's not trying to catch up, though, not tonight. She's alternating between reading the Rahadi constitution and writing down (and scratching out) proposals to set before the education committee tomorrow, burning down another candle.

There are shouts outside, but they're mostly distant.

"Keep away from the window, Zara."