It was Heketas who shoved Ilarion to the side. They both sprawled onto the floor as a plume of bright fire roared out onto the ground where they had just been standing. Janu was already running, watching the others only to keep an eye on the dragon itself. But the fire hit the edge of the collapsed tunnel, cutting off his route to safety.

In the blinding light that washed through the chamber, Janu caught a glint of white – a long, curved horn tied to the chain around the dragon’s neck.

Shit. He couldn’t think about that now. Escape first. If he dawdled, he would be the only one left trapped in here with the dragon, and that wouldn’t end well. In desperation, he took the clay-covered siren fruit from his belt pouch and slammed it into the wall so the clay shell dented, but didn’t break. Then he spun on one heel and threw it as hard as he could towards the pool.

He didn’t wait to see if it landed. The dragon was drawing breath again. The last of its fire breath spent itself against rock and stone. Janu pushed his legs as fast as they would go. In the sudden darkness, with the others’ lanterns swallowed by the exit tunnel, he couldn’t make out anything anymore. So he ran with his right arm outstretched, tracing the wall as he ran, hoping every second to find the tunnel.

Chains rattled to his left. Teeth snapped shut like the springing of some great bear trap, illuminated for a brief moment by a fiery glow behind them. Too close, but not close enough. Janu sent a half-hearted thanks Critobulus’ way for chaining his prisoner so effectively.

A strange sound carried across the room, like the opening of bellows. Every hair on Janu’s back stood on end. His legs quivered like jelly. Then with a hot whumph, a jet of flame barrelled straight towards him. Crying out, he threw himself forwards and the jet struck the rock just behind him. He scrabbled forwards on hands and knees, the soles of his feet burning, growing hotter each moment as the dragon located him and swung its head around.

Light! Not fire light, but lantern light, barely perceptible before him. He sprang forwards and hit the edge of the corridor entrance with his head. Several hands grabbed him while he was regaining his senses and dragged him further in just as a sheet of flame swept across the entrance and his left side. Pain exploded in his arm and leg and shot through his body. Some godsawful noise bounced around the confines of the corridor and followed him as he moved until he realised it was his own screaming. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not until he couldn’t breathe, and then the screams just devolved into choppy gasps.

His lungs burned, whether from the heat or his screams, he didn’t know.

‘You’ll be okay, Janu,’ someone was saying. Their voice swam in his head, making it unrecognisable. ‘You’re not on fire. It only just touched you.’

The flesh on his left side felt like it was being seared over a grill. He could still half hear roaring flames.

They turned a corner, then stopped. Janu blinked rapidly, trying to make some sense of the figures in the dancing lantern light. Someone poured water over his arm and leg, then again, emptying whatever skins they had been carrying. Its coldness brought some sense back to him, enough for the figures to solidify into his three companions. It helped for one blissful moment before the heat came marching back. The skin on the side of his face felt tight.

Janu tried to speak, but his voice came out dry and hoarse. ‘Do I... Do I still have my moustache?’

Galnai let out a dark chuckle. ‘Your face is fine, just a little pink. Can you walk?’

He didn’t want to try, but he also didn’t want them to keep dragging him along the floor like a sack of charred rice. So he stuck his unburnt hand up, waited for someone to grab it, and hauled himself to his feet with their strength for support. Static rang in his head. His companions’ figures swam again, wheeling in the confines of the corridor. He swallowed a surge of bile and screwed his eyes shut against a sudden wash of dizziness.

‘Walk him forwards,’ Galnai murmured. ‘Carry him if you have to. We’ll have Divya check him over. Nothing better for a burn than water magic, I should think.’

Whoever had hold of his hand shifted their grip to his shoulder and guided him along the corridor. Janu forced himself onwards, one unwilling step after another, limping with every flare of pain in his left leg. After a few dozen steps, when he was sure his knees wouldn’t betray him, he worked up the courage to glance at his left side.

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Patches of his shirt sleeve had been burned away. His skin shone out beneath it, raw and pink, blisters dotting it in a few places. Bad, but not as bad as it felt. He had half expected to see it burned clean through to the bone, black and oozing. A shiver passed through him nonetheless. He couldn’t keep back the creeping sense of nausea burning at his throat.

Their journey back through the last stage of the labyrinth, unhindered by a lack of direction or need to check for traps, must have been far quicker, but felt like an eternity. Janu dipped in and out of consciousness throughout, now nodding his head to each laboured step, now waking to find his cheek rolling on Heketas’ shoulder. Distant roaring punctuated his breaths and footsteps, but he couldn’t tell if it was the blood in his ears or the furious dragon.

At one point he remembered the horn on the chain around its neck. They needed that horn. He tried to break away from Heketas to go back for it, but Heketas wouldn’t let go. Some other hand gave him a gentle push from behind. When Janu tried to explain, he couldn’t quite put the words together in any way they made sense.

‘We’ll put him on the bed in here,’ Galnai said, raising her lantern as they came to the door to Critobulus’ rest room. ‘Beats walking him further. I’ll go ahead and fetch Divya.’

Heketas and Ilarion followed her command, making a straight line for the bed as soon as they entered and lowering Janu onto it between the two of them. Galnai hovered to watch them, concern etching her features.

Janu’s left side wasn’t burning anymore. His limbs were dead weights – all of them, saturated with numbness. He shivered again. Some cold had pried its way into his brain and fogged his thoughts.

Ilarion crouched before him, holding up his lantern so the shadow of his nose leapt across his cheek.

‘His blood’s all drained,’ he said. ‘Lie him down before he faints.’

‘I’m not going to faint,’ Janu said, but his protests didn’t stop Heketas from pushing him down anyway.

The fuzziness in his head grew stronger. He blinked to stay awake, focussing on Galnai’s retreating form. The moment she opened the door to the library, she cried out and sprang back.

With a shout, two palace guards burst through the door, their wide surprised eyes narrowing in a heartbeat. Galnai kicked one of them hard in the groin, but had to jump back again when the other thrust with his sword. Metal whispered against leather and Ilarion stepped forwards with his sword drawn. Heketas didn’t join him.

Janu tried to roll over. His breath came in small gasps that echoed in his ears. On his second attempt, he rolled onto his side but kept rolling off the edge of the bed. By some small miracle, he got his feet beneath him before he landed and dropped to his hands and knees instead of faceplanting the stone floor. Pain flared through his left hand and shin. His muffled scream joined the shouts and clanging metal around him.

Using the side of the bed for support, Janu got to his feet. A sword skittered across the floor and bounced off the toe of his boot.

Ilarion had his hands in the air, one guard’s sword to his throat. Another guard pinned Galnai’s arms to her sides as she swore and struggled to break free. Blood streamed from his nose, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

Janu groggily shifted his gaze from the dropped sword to the guards and back. Before he could attempt to grab it, two more guards entered the room, swords already drawn. One headed straight for him, skirting around the others.

‘Leave it,’ he said, like he might a dog.

Janu complied, raised his hands, and— The next moment his view had shifted several degrees. He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece events together. Rope scratched like biting fire where his left wrist was tied to his right. A shove in the small of his back sent him stumbling forwards. His view tilted to the floor and up again and his legs buckled beneath him as a wave of dizziness fuzzed the edges of his mind.

‘—etas?’ said another guard behind him. ‘Couldn’t find more respectable work after they kicked you out, eh? Should have figured your lot would stoop this low.’

Scuffling broke out at Janu’s back, stopped a moment later by a solid crack.

The guard who had restrained Galnai peered around her at his colleagues. ‘He still alive?’

‘Should be. Always had a thick skull, this one.’

‘Good. They’ll all be wanted for questioning, I imagine. Can’t be killing any before they’ve had chance to explain themselves.’ The guard glanced between Ilarion and Galnai, curling his lip. ‘He can start by saying how much Khunuchan paid him to sneak their agents in.’

‘Agents?’ Galnai laughed. ‘I haven’t been to—’

A sharp shove from the guard cut her off. ‘Shut it, you. And get moving.’

They traipsed through to the library, where more guards joined them. Either the dragon’s roars had summoned them or someone had found out about the ongoing heist. Whatever the case, it was over. Janu couldn’t concentrate enough to worry. His thoughts drifted sluggishly from one topic to the next, interspersed by flashes of blinding pain.

Their journey passed in snatches. Library shelves gave way to bare corridor walls, to piled stoned slabs and broken bolts, to the hewn stone floor of the old tunnel entrance.

Janu almost asked where Divya was, but stopped himself. She wasn’t by Critobulus’ door, and there weren’t any more guards here. His gaze slipped over to the stream. Unless they had already found her and taken her away, she must be hiding somewhere. Or perhaps she had slipped away like a fish. Janu hoped that was the case.

The guards took them through the old barracks, and the last Janu remembered of the journey was the sight of the old staircase, disappearing into the dark above, before he disappeared into the dark himself.