Friday came grey and dry.
The plaza outside Dublin Tower had been closed and swept since dawn. Eleven coffins stood in a single row on a raised platform, each draped in the tricolour, and before each one stood a small table bearing three things: a photograph, a Challenger badge, and something personal — a sword, a staff, a guild crest, and, seventh in the row, a tower shield with its rim polished bright.
Orla's spear lay ninth, across two stands, with the Emerald Spire crest at its foot.
The families sat in the first rows, close enough to touch the platform. The nine survivors sat together to the side, in dress the Bureau had provided because none of them owned anything for this. Ronan and Cillian sat directly behind James, Finn, and Maeve, close enough that Cillian's knee touched the back of James's chair, which James suspected was on purpose. His mother sat at his other side.
