Like all the industrial cities of Loegrion, Mannin, too, was quickly outgrowing the corset of its medieval walls, with new quarters being pulled up all around. Often, by the times the walls around these new districts were finished, the area was already too small, so despite the Rot, the poorest of the poor hoping to make a living in the city still found themselves living outside their protection.

Lane and David had to make their way through one of the half-permanent camps of day labourers to get to the nearest gate. Beggars and street urchins nearly ran in front of their horses, hoping for some copper. And Lane thought she saw at least one pair of yellow eyes quickly ducking into the throng of people.

It wasn’t really surprising, now that she thought about it, despite George Louis’s attempts to send all werewolves to the railway. If she were a werewolf testing the waters, she’d come to Mannin, too, not the heartlands.

And then they were inside the city proper, riding along the Savre.

“City of bridges,” David said, grinning when he saw her face.

“I see where the name comes from.”

The thing that made the bridges of Mannin so spectacular wasn’t just the number, though there appeared to be hundreds. It was the way they seemed to float at the height of the roofs of most houses, reachable by strange, water-powered lifts that could take a fully loaded wagon plus oxen up onto the bridge and then down again the other side.

Far, far below the bridges, barges with alchemy-treated hulls moored at the long quays. The full shore of the Savre was bricked up, as far as Lane could see, probably to stop the Rot from taking hold, and forming an endless line of jetties. High walls with silver spikes on top separated the streets of Mannin from this huge harbour. Through a high gate, Lane could see that the place was still busy in the dwindling daylight, but the dockworkers were already wearing silver protections. They all seemed in a hurry to finish whatever they were doing, and on the city side of the wall, guards were already lighting fires in waist-high grilles, each with a little roofing on top.

No doubt the whole coastline would be deserted in an hour.

Not the rest of the cities, though, Lane realized in amazement, when she and David left the restaurant where they had had dinner. Despite the Rot coming down the Savre in scores – Lane could smell it even over the coal smoke – Mannin had possibly the most active nightlife she had ever seen. It was like they were having a whole carnival in the middle of the night. Most revelers had little bouquets of lavender and other flowers stuck to their lapels, to overcome the stink of the Rot that engulfed the whole city, others wore scarves around their faces against the soot and smoke in the air.

“They are – very sure of their protections,” Lane said, a little dumbfounded, while they drifted with the throng of people on the streets. Many of them seemed to be quite drunk.

“It’s worked for the past two hundred years, hasn’t it?” David said. “And they can spare the coals they’re burning.”

“It still seems like a pointless risk.”

“I think that is the point, really,” David shrugged. “George Louis used to brag about this, how the people of Mannin don’t cower before the Rot, how they aren’t afraid and won’t hide the night away.”

“Instead they go out and party. Every night?”

“Probably not everybody every night,” David said. “But yes, that’s what they do. George Louis is paying large sums for fairs and circuses to come into town, and during the day, on all the major market places they have lotteries where you can win tickets, or vouchers for free beer, and stuff.”

“Bread and circuses?” Lane asked.

“Very much so.”

Well, that made sense, Lane supposed. The duke needed to have his own people’s support if he wanted the crown. Or at least, he couldn’t fight his own people and vie for the crown.

“So, want to go see what circus is in town? Assuming there is one, in any case,” David added, trailing off.

“I – I suppose,” Lane said. “I’ve never been.”

David turned to stare at her, then stopped himself mid-motion and nearly walked into a bawling drunk that was stumbling out of the pub they were just passing.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said, once the off-key singing had faded a little.

“Father wasn’t a fan of – worldly distractions,” Lane said, scoffing. “Not for me, in any case. He was allowed to go to the theatre.”

David didn’t say anything to that, so Lane went on: “Did you ever meet him? Or even hunt together?”

“I saw him at court a few times,” David said. “And at the magistrate next to Deva cathedral, when I picked up warrants. We ended up going after the same contract a handful of times, but we never really hunted together, no. Father – didn’t approve of your father’s methods.”

“I bet,” Lane muttered. “He wasn’t a really good hunter.”

“Well, he was up against the Morgulon,” David allowed.

Lane smiled. “It’s okay, David. I know what he was like. He was an amateur, and he clung way too much to his useless rituals. These days, I’d rather have Big Bart and Little Roy on my side than him, too.

Don’t tell them I said that!”

David was laughing too hard to answer her.

They didn’t go to the circus that first night, simply because, by the time they reached the big place where the tents were pitched, the performance was well underway. Instead, they found a hotel close by. They got rooms right next to each other, yet separate, which seemed to surprise the man at the reception. Lane found herself lying awake for a long time after she had gone to bed, listening to the music and voices wafting in from outside.

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What a strange place. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from a city that sat right at the confluence of not just one, but two large, Rot-infested rivers. But it certainly wasn’t all-night-long parties, not out in the open streets. Oh, sure, her father had ranted about the Northerners and their heathen, debased, and sinful ways. And sure, she’d heard stories, but she’d always thought those were made up, or at least exaggerated. The sheer amount of coal it had to cost every night to keep the fires burning that long was staggering.

On the other hand, Lane wondered, now that she really thought about it, what else could they do? Abandon the city? If they didn’t stop the Rot right at the river banks, it would run rampant through the streets as soon as it got dark, and hide in the basements during the day. Nobody would be safe, ever, anywhere in the city.

And yet... Lane couldn’t quite help but be impressed. Maybe it wasn’t surprising that George Louis had been the one to try and finance a railway straight through the forest to Sheaf. For someone who grew up in Mannin, it probably didn’t even sound like a big deal. The duke probably really did believe that human inventiveness could overcome any obstacle.

“Hubris,” she could hear her father’s angry whisper.

Maybe.

No, certainly. Without the werewolves – without Greg Feleke – the enterprise would have failed. The navvies attempting it would have died. George Louis would have lost his investment, and probably his chance at challenging the Empire. Maybe even his life.

But Greg had been there, the right – person – at just the right place, at just the right moment. Maybe it was true what they said: At some point, the bird had to jump in order to learn how to fly.

Lane threw herself onto the other side, staring at the empty wall. The bed was easily big enough for two.

Would Morgulon mind if she picked up some girl at the endless party outside?

Unlikely.

But that wouldn’t be jumping, would it? To jump would mean to ask Morgulon if perhaps she could stand being human for a night, or even just a few hours for a start, to be with Lane.

Lane closed her eyes and rubbed her face. Even as she thought it, she knew that she wasn’t going to say anything the coming new moon. Not while they were out here, in the forest, and Morgulon hiding in her burrow, pregnant. Maybe if they ever made it back to Wardshire. Maybe after the war.

Together, Lane and David went to see the circus’s afternoon performance the next day, after mostly idling the morning away. The huge, red and yellow tent was surrounded by smaller ones, and Lane could hear animals inside them before they had even paid for admission.

Last night, the crowd hadn’t paid them much attention, but standing in line they were drawing a lot of stares. They had both brought their crossbows and quivers out of habit.

The man selling the tickets eyed them up and down. He looked Valoise, a big, burly guy who looked like he could do security, too, except that he appeared very nervous to see them.

“You here on business, Madam, Sir?” he asked.

“Why, are there any outstanding crown warrants in the city?” David replied.

That earned him a blank face, and David sighed. “We were hoping just to catch the show, not a werewolf.”

“Sell the man a ticket,” a second voice interrupted. David couldn’t see where it came from until someone moved inside the ticket booth, and a woman’s head appeared just a little above the big guy’s elbow. “There are no crown warrants on anyone in our crew,” she told him.

“Two tickets, then, please,” David said, and tried a smile. “We’re not on duty right now, anyway.”

The woman didn’t seem to trust his words, because she followed them when they finally had their tickets. “If you’re not working right now, why carry arms?” she wanted to know.

“Habit,” David said. “Also, would you leave a bag full of silver laying around?”

He reached into his quiver and showed her a bolt.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said slowly.

“Do you have any werewolves around here?” Lane asked.

“No,” the woman said.

Maybe it was just everything that had been said before, but David didn’t really believe her. He let it slide, though, and Lane just nodded, too.

“Enjoy the show,” the woman said, and then disappeared into the crowd.

David looked at Lane, and they raised their eyebrows at the same moment, then grinned at each other.

“My money is on the lion tamer,” Lane said when the show was over. “There is no way a regular human being would stand between those animals like that guy did.”

“I don’t know, he seemed just like any lion tamer I’ve ever seen,” David said.

“But did you see the size of that lion?!” Lane asked. Her heart was beating too fast from the excitement of the show, and her face was probably flushed. She wanted to go back and see it all again. “And those tight-rope walkers? And the contortionists?” she added, making David grin. “Is it always like that?”

“When they’re good, yes,” David said.

Lane took a deep breath.

“Dinner, next?” David asked. “We can catch another show tomorrow,” he added.

“They’ll think we’re there to hunt somebody after all,” Lane sighed.

“Possibly,” David admitted. “Or we just leave the crossbows behind.”

Lane considered it. “Let’s see tomorrow. Food sounds good.”

They found a place to eat close by and settled down. Lane had managed not to think about her father all throughout the show, but it was coming now. There had been a monkey presented in a large cage, picking the lock with a couple of sticks from inside and letting itself out, and now she couldn’t keep out the image of Morgulon, as a little child, in the same kind of cage, presented to the hushed audience, and the screams of excitement when she transformed.

And her own father, sitting in the ranks, probably glaring the whole time with that look of indignation and moral superiority he always wore around the unbelievers.

“Are you all right?” David asked.

Lane shrugged. “Just thinking about what father did,” she said.

David didn’t ask any further. Instead, he said: “Do you think maybe Morgulon would like to see the show?”

Lane opened her mouth, closed it again. “I – don’t know?”

“It just occurred to me,” David added. “It’s six days till new moon. The crew should reach Mannin within that time, don’t you think? And just from the reaction these guys had to us, I think they might not mind having her in the audience.”

“Maybe we should ask them first, though,” Lane said. “I mean, it’s one thing to have a werewolf that you know and trust in your group. Having another just walk in? I don’t know how they’d react.”

“We better do that,” David agreed.

“If they do say yes, then we can ask all the werewolves with the navvies if they want to go,” Lane said.

So they went back the next day, right after breakfast. At the circus, the ticket booth was still boarded up, and everything was quiet around the tents.

“Let’s try that big tent over there,” Lane suggested.

It looked new, like maybe someone important lived there, but when they knocked against a board, only the monkey made a racket inside. At least it was loud enough to wake someone. After a few minutes the petite woman from yesterday, who had turned out to be a tightrope-walker, was stalking towards them.

“What do you want now?” she demanded.

Lane looked at David, who shrugged.

“We work for the Lackland Railway Company,” she said after a moment. “One of the crews will reach Mannin in a few days. Probably right around new moon. We were wondering how you would feel about having some werewolves in your audience.”

“How we would feel about –“ The woman stared even harder up at Lane’s face. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all,” Lane said calmly. “One of the werewolves used to travel with a circus.”

The other woman chewed on the inside of her cheek at that. “How many werewolves?”

“About half a dozen. But if we do show up with them, it’ll be new moon night, anyway.”

“All right,” the woman said. “Don’t see why not. If you’re gonna bring a big group, you might want to buy tickets in advance, though.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Lane said.