A glyph [https://i.imgur.com/ZLENX3y.png]

Andra pressed on into the maze. Turn after turn, junction after junction, the smells grew stronger, noises louder and closer, until she turned another corner and found the cages.

This tunnel was three or four times as wide as the others. Cages stretched away from her, lined up against the wall, each large enough to contain a man.

She crept forward. No doubt now about the animals she had scented. In one cage crouched a panting dire-wolf, long fur bristling through the bars. Next to it, a skinny mange-ridden bear scratched itself. Some empty cages followed, then another large animal — one she had never seen before, a tawny cat as large as a dire-wolf. It glared at her with slitted yellow eyes and bared long white teeth.

The tread of boots echoed down the tunnels. The caged animals tensed and pricked their ears. Andra ran along the line of cages. At the end of the hallway was another junction. She ducked round the corner and crouched against the wall.

The footsteps grew nearer, entered the room of cages, and stopped. Animals moaned and whimpered and growled.

Andra peeked round the corner. A tall man stood by the cages. He carried a bucket and a stick. Bright coloured tattoos snaked round his bare arms.

She withdrew. The man clattered and banged and sloshed about the cages; the animals made their noises in response. She wrinkled her nose: judging by the smell, there were more animals nearby, as well as men — and her sister.

Simon had said this was a fight-den, a place where men fought other men, for reasons she didn’t understand. So why did they have animals in cages?

Sometimes humans kept live animals to slaughter for food later. This she could understand, though she didn’t see the point. To her mind, it made more sense to let the animals wander and feed themselves, and hunt them when you wanted to eat. And sometimes humans kept animals for other reasons, like all the dogs and cats and rats that swarmed in the city. Or maybe they ate them too — she wasn’t sure.

Perhaps the wolf and bear and cat were to be eaten? Puzzling, but it didn’t really concern her. She just had to find her sister.

Noise continued from the room of cages. She stood and stretched, picked a direction, and walked on.

And on, and on. She found three more large rooms with animals in cages, and twice she heard men and avoided them. All the while, her sister’s scent taunted her, stronger in one tunnel and fading the next moment, faint and elusive in the still musty air.

At the next junction, the scent was strong and clear. Her breathing quickened, her heart sped. She slunk around a corner into yet another room of cages. More animals like those she had seen before — a grey wolf, a tawny brown cat-thing. Yet her sister’s scent was undeniable.

Andra padded along the line of cages.

And there was her sister, Cara, in the last cage on the end of the row, her face pale behind the bars, her eyes wide in shocked recognition. They stared at each other. Cara gripped the bars of her cage and her mouth opened, as if she would speak.

Andra drew her knife.

Behind her, boots scraped on stone. ‘Hey. What are you—’

She whipped round, crouched with the knife held low, ready to pounce. The man was large, twice her size. Red-and-gold tattoos spiralled round muscular arms. He grinned slowly, and swished the stick he held through the air. It was a sturdy length of wood, three feet long.

Beyond her sister’s cage was only a blank wall. No escape in that direction, no escape at all, except back the way she had come, past the man with the stick. If she slipped by him, he would shout and draw others. Besides, she didn’t want to run — she wanted to kill her sister, so she would have to kill him first.

So be it.

He advanced, swinging the stick in low arcs. She was surely faster than him, but he had the longer reach and was all but blocking the passage.

She leaped and scrambled onto the wolf cage. Much faster than she’d expected, the man swiped with his stick, knocking her legs out from under her. She fell on top of the cage.

Her fingers gripped cold steel bars. The wolf beneath her cringed, and for a moment, she stared into its amber eyes. The man grabbed her shoulder.

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She twisted from his grip and stabbed down with her knife, slicing open his arm. He howled and stumbled into the cage with the tawny cat. The cat slammed itself against the bars. Its claws snagged the man’s clothes.

Andra jumped onto him.

He met her with his fist and punched her with enough force to slam her back against the wolf cage.

She bounced to her feet. He thrust a black can at her face. It hissed sharply, and an intense acrid stench flooded her nose. Her throat constricted. Choking, she gasped for air, sucking in more of the vile smelling gas.

Agony gripped her chest. Her pulse drummed in her ears. Black crowded the edges of her vision and somewhere far away her sister cried her name over and over as she dropped into sickening darkness.

Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

The doors at the rear of Danta’s workshop stood open to the sun and air. Simon paused outside the neighbouring timber merchant. He adjusted the hooded cloak he wore to hide his face.

On the way here, he’d seen one of the new patrols authorised by the Council. A red-caped young Phylaxes led a group of six commoners, all wearing black armbands and carrying cudgels. He’d kept his head down and walked briskly past, and they’d paid him no attention.

Thankfully, there were no patrols in Potrack Street. The timber merchant and the ironmonger went about their usual business, and no one, as far as he could tell, was watching Danta’s place, or himself.

He crossed the yard to the open double doors. Inside, the workshop machinery stood idle, and he could see no one, but raised voices reached him. One was Danta, the other a man he didn’t recognise.

Eranon did business with Danta. The loud man might be someone from House Oryche. Simon slipped through the doors and loitered in the shadows, listening.

‘It’s a very reasonable offer,’ said the loud man. He had a nasal tone which set Simon’s teeth on edge.

‘Reasonable? This business is my life.’ Danta sounded angry.

‘Of course. And you do marvellously well, for one woman on her own, but the days of the lone craftsman artificer are over. The future is with the large operators.’

‘Like Anders Andriessen?’

‘Indeed. We have the workforce, the machinery, we can invest—’

‘Like when you bought all the crucible steel you could get, driving the price up for everyone else?’

‘It’s business, my dear. We had a large order. Be reasonable—’

‘Reasonable.’ Something heavy clanged. ‘You like that word a lot, Anders. But maybe I am not reasonable. Maybe I like running my own business. Maybe I don’t like you, or the kind of work you do.’

‘Well. If that’s how you see it, I’ll say no more.’

‘Good. See yourself out.’

Simon ducked behind one of Danta’s machines. The man stalked past without seeing him, and once sure he’d gone, Simon walked into the workshop.

Danta glowered at him. ‘Oh. It’s you.’

‘Is everything all right? What was that about?’

‘Him? Nothing. A bit of good business comes his way and he thinks he’s king of the street. Smug little… He isn’t half the man his mother was.’ She seized a broom and began sweeping the floor, driving metal filings before her as if they’d done her some personal injury.

‘How’s Vikki?’

‘Upset.’ Danta stopped sweeping and frowned at the broom. ‘She blames you.’

‘Me? What did I do?’

She shrugged. ‘You’re alive and he’s dead. She’s young. She’ll get over it. What can I do for you, anyway?’

‘I want to send a letter.’ He took the folded paper from inside his coat and handed it to her.

She peered at the address. ‘Numisma? So? You can’t afford a messenger?’

‘Lord Oryche wants me dead. He knows I may contact Numisma. My mother’s there. A messenger could be intercepted and questioned.’

‘You don’t think you’re being a little paranoid?’

Simon frowned. Possibly he was, but under the circumstances, caution seemed a good idea. Better safe than sorry, anyhow.

‘All right, all right,’ Danta said. ‘I’ll arrange something suitably convoluted and indirect. It may cost me a little.’

He handed her a half-forint. It was money he’d stolen from Oryche anyway. ‘Will that cover it?’

She sighed and pocketed the coin.

‘Also,’ he said. ‘I wanted to ask what you knew about the Snakes.’

‘Snakes?’

‘Thugs with snake tattoos.’

‘Oh.’ She resumed sweeping. ‘They’ve been around, four, five years. More successful than most slum gangs. I mean, gangs usually last a few years, tops, then they start fighting each other and break up. But these guys just keep growing. Rumour says their boss is damn clever.’

‘So who is their boss?’

‘Secret.’ She shook her head. ‘They’re bad news. Stay away from them, if you have sense.’

He watched her sweep between the silent machines, metal idols gathering dust, and thought about the conversation he’d overheard. Danta had helped him; maybe they could help each other. ‘I was wondering if I could do any work for you.’

‘You?’ She eyed him. ‘Are you an artificer in your spare time?’

‘I’m an Earth Adept. I can shape stone and metal.’

‘My tools do that. Why do I need an Adept?’

‘Can your tools transform cheap steel into the best crucible steel?’

Danta blinked. ‘What? You can do that?’

‘I don’t see why not.’ He’d never tried it, but he knew the theory. One drew elements from the air into the metal, at the same time altering its structure and composition.

In legend, Earth Adepts had made swords unbreakable and sharp enough to cut the wind. Simon didn’t plan to emulate such fanciful achievements, but hardening the edge of a blade was a standard Arcanum exercise. Enhancing mild steel to approximate a more expensive steel was essentially the same process.

Danta still stared at him as if he’d proposed growing wings and flying to the moon. ‘Light. If you could— but it’d have to be cheap. If it’s more expensive than buying the steel in the first place…’

‘It isn’t as if I have many opportunities to earn money.’ Simon rubbed his jaw. Adepts didn’t usually do this kind of work. Perhaps for good reasons: his idea might not, in practice, be economical. He had to earn enough to feed his family, and it must still be cheaper for Danta. ’Tell you what, work out some figures and send me some trial pieces. I’ll need a specimen of the steel you want too. If you’re happy with the quality, and I’m happy with the wages, well then — we’re in business.’

Danta extended her hand, and they shook on it.