Six days after the gate fell, Batu rode back through the plaza where the cathedral had collapsed. Workers had cut a narrow path through the center of the rubble, though the larger heaps still leaned against the broken foundation, untouched where no one had begun to dig. Banners bearing the wolf's track stood at three corners of the square. Men in plain coats moved between them with ledgers tucked beneath their arms, recording what still remained. No one bothered counting what had burned. That work had already been done.
The smoke that had blanketed half the district for two days had nearly vanished. For the first time since the assault began, every surviving gold dome stood clear against the sky. The haze that had hidden them was gone at last.
