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It was quiet in her cell, too quiet, and time passed too slowly. Lorie stared at her sewing, needle idle in her hands. She’d only picked it up for something to do, to distract herself from her own thoughts. It wasn’t working.

She sat alone. Nana and Grandma were together in the neighbouring cell, their voices a gentle background murmur. The hearing was scheduled for later that day. Until then, there was nothing to do but wait and worry. She’d grown expert at that.

Since visiting Dad in prison, it was Sam that haunted her. He was a gap at the table when they ate, a silence in the conversation when they talked, his absence a pain they all pretended to ignore. She’d promised Dad she wouldn’t give up, but they weren’t doing anything to find him. Nana didn’t know where to start.

Last night, Lorie had lain awake for hours. She’d racked her brains, recalling the last time she’d seen Sam, any hint she might have missed. If she’d only talked to him, if she’d taken more of an interest, he might not have run off — or if he had, she might have a clue where he’d gone.

All she had to go on was Sam’s mystery new friend, the girl.

And the market.

She frowned at the torn shirt she was repairing. — The market. What about the market?

He was looking for the girl. He may have met her at the market. He expected to see her there.

— So maybe she’ll be at the market again.

She put down her sewing.

Next door, Nana sat on the chair, darning a sock. Grandma sat on the bed, humming to herself.

‘Nana,’ Lorie said. ‘I want to go to the market.’

Nana eyed her. ‘The hearing’s today. We don’t have time.’

‘This is important. I have an idea for how to find Sam. Besides, the hearing’s not for hours yet.’

‘The market’s not safe.’ Nana lowered the sock. ‘Anyhow, after the hearing, your father’ll be free. You can talk to him about it.’

‘If I go now, I can be there and back well before the hearing. Dad’s been so worried about Sam. If I can find something, it will mean a lot to him.’

Nana shook her head. ‘We aren’t going anywhere. One lost grandchild is enough. Your father wouldn’t thank me if I took you into danger.’

‘I don’t think it’s that dangerous,’ Lorie said. The Wardens say the market’s open again. There’s regular patrols and there hasn’t been any trouble for days.’

‘Lorie’s right,’ Grandma said. ‘She must go.’

‘You stay out of this,’ Nana said. ‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Oh, it is. She’s my grandchild too. She’s in the middle of everything. It all revolves around her, and she must go, or things can’t happen as they must. Arakiel says—‘

‘Will you please shut up about your damned imaginary angel friend,’ Nana said. ‘He’s no angel of Sammael, and I don’t want to hear no more of his opinions.’

You must go. You can, you know. They can’t stop you.

Blood rushed in Lorie’s ears. Her palms burned. Since the lamp-lighting incident, she’d been vigilant. She’d exercised every day with the Wardens, she’d practised meditation and self-control, and it had worked. The Voice had been less intrusive; she hadn’t slipped. She clenched her fists. She was in control. Nothing and no one could make her do anything she didn’t want to do.

— Shut up. I don’t need your advice.

‘I’m going.’ She met Nana’s astonished gaze levelly, and spoke as her father would when he told Nana something she wouldn’t like. ‘I’m going to the market. I want to go, and you can’t stop me.’

Nana stared at her, her mouth hanging open. ‘Well, I’ll go with you then. Give me a moment to—’

‘No,’ Lorie said firmly. Nana shrank before her, not formidable at all, just a little old woman with nothing to say. ‘You’d best stay here. I can look after myself.’

A dizzying wave of freedom carried her through the corridors all the way to the entrance hall with the pool and the statue. There she stopped: the doors of the Refuge were before her, and she was alone, and free.

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Nana could bluster and complain all she liked. Lorie wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t have to do what she was told. She opened the doors of the Refuge and stepped down into the passageway.

The air was cooler outside. She shivered.

No one had stopped her leaving. Nana wasn’t chasing after her to bring her back. She was alone in the empty passage, with only herself to ask if she was doing the right thing. She’d never gone to the market alone, never walked in the undercity alone. Perhaps it was dangerous. Perhaps—but as soon as she thought of returning and apologising to Nana, she knew she wouldn’t.

She turned her back on the Refuge and started walking. At the end of the passage, the long winding stairway rose before her. From below, it looked dauntingly steep. She sighed, and began to climb.

By the time she reached the top, her legs ached. She stopped and stretched and set off again. The stark, gas-lit hallways did not match her memory of the retreat from the riot. Then all had been darkness and fear, and the way had seemed impossibly long. She wasn’t sure she’d remember the route to the market.

Thankfully, there were few junctions, and at each, after a moment’s thought, she did know the way. As she drew nearer, the noise of the market hummed through the walls and air, leading her ever more surely, until suddenly, the entrance loomed before her.

After the hush and order of the Refuge, the chaotic noise and colour of the market stunned her. She stood and stared.

The riot had left stalls smashed, goods stolen or destroyed, fires burning. Now, at first sight, it might never have happened. The stalls and traders were back and so were the shoppers.

But there were holes in the lines of stalls, fewer traders, fewer shoppers. A pair of Market Guards strolled down the aisle ahead of her.

She’d wanted to come yet now she was here, she stood frozen in the entranceway. All seemed calm. Chattering people ambled from stall to stall. There was a long, grumbling queue for bread.

It’s going to happen again.

The potential for violence was there, just beneath the surface. It was there in the groups of northers sticking together, and the Athanorese giving them a wide berth, and the Market Guards in pairs, armed with cudgels. All it took was a spark.

Her heart pounded. She snatched at breath; there was not enough air. She gripped her skirt to stop her hands trembling.

Why are you afraid?

— Because — She was afraid, it was true, and with that recognition, she steadied herself. Somewhere out there was a scorch mark on the floor where she had killed a man. That might happen again, if she lost control, if she let fear master her. Fear must be channelled. Fear must be controlled.

She forced herself to breath slowly, to see what was there: the market was peaceful. There was no riot, no reason to expect a riot.

You are in no danger. You can defend yourself. They should fear you.

— I’m here to look for Sam, or some clue as to where he is. That’s all.

Right. Carry on.

She wished now that she’d waited and accompanied the Wardens on their regular bell ringing instead of coming alone. But the next bell wasn’t due for some time, and having come this far, she must try to look for Sam, however hopeless it seemed.

She stepped into the flow of shoppers and walked along the aisle, past stalls selling cooking oil and cloth, candles and leather belts. The goods didn’t interest her. She had no money, anyway.

The fear hadn’t entirely gone. She hugged herself as she wove through the crowd, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze. A careless knock from a passer-by might shatter her into a thousand brittle pieces.

She circled the outer edge of the market, toward the north entrance. This was where she’d last seen Sam. She hadn’t been paying attention to him. He was just there, being his usual annoying self. She strained her memory, trying to dredge up some clue.

Vaguely, she had the impression he’d been looking for someone. Someone he’d met at the market before, a girl. Someone he’d expected to find at the market. It was all she had to go on, and it wasn’t much. There were many children of Sam’s age about, with families or alone.

She headed for the black platform beneath the bell. She had never seen anyone use it, except the Wardens, but she wasn’t aware she shouldn’t… so she climbed the lower steps, from where she could survey most of the market hall.

The crowd ebbed and flowed round the stalls. Deliberately, she relaxed and slowed her breathing.

At the north entrance, red cloaks swirled. A patrol — but, no, this wasn’t one or two Phylaxes, but a whole troop, marching two abreast. Alarm rooted Lorie to the spot, but as she watched them advance into the hall, she realised the soldiers were only passing through on their way to somewhere else. They marched past, paying no attention to her or the disgruntled shoppers forced from their path.

She turned to look the other way. On the far side by the south entrance, a flash of green caught her eye in the middle of a knot of beggars and children. There were two girls about her own age, or older, both dressed in green robes — cheap, sack-like garments. One was thin and red-headed, the other dark-skinned and plump.

She frowned. She’d seen them before, but where? Was it at the Market? Yes — she thought she had — and there was another, a younger girl, a pretty brown-haired girl about Sam’s age, lugging a basket.

All else forgotten, Lorie plunged into the crowd, wriggling between groups of northers and cutting behind stalls to reach her target by the shortest route. When she got there, a wall of hungry alms-seekers surrounded the three girls, who were handing out bread from two large baskets.

Lorie waited until the bread had run out and the crowd had thinned, then simply walked straight up to them. ‘Hello. I’m Lorie. I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?’

The dark girl smiled. ‘We’re often here.’

‘I wanted to ask if you’d seen my brother, Sam. He went missing the day of the riot.’ She sketched his height with her hand. ‘He’s about so tall, dark hair.’

The girl shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said the younger girl. ‘Sam said he had a sister called Lorie. He’s with us.’

Lorie’s heart stuttered. She had hoped, but she hadn’t really expected to find Sam so easily. ‘Is he all right? Where is he?’

‘He’s fine,’ the girl said. ‘We’ll take you to him, if you want.’

The hearing was still some hours away. Time enough to go with them, and find Sam, and maybe return with him. She didn’t want to miss the start of the hearing — but if she let this chance slip away, Sam might be lost forever.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Can we go now?’