It rained heavily during the morning of the next day. Drops of water fell insistently down the chimney and hissed in the fiery hearth, while steam rose from the large teapot standing on a trivet at the center of the rear prep table. An assortment of cups, one of them chipped, were cradled in their respective saucers, each containing a measure of pale nethermint tea.

  “So, we’re agreed,” Robles said. “No one goes out alone.”

  “I’ll make sure the boys get home every night,” Mr. Feesh said. “I know one of the fathers who collects his daughter every night from Kanter’s place. I’ll make sure Pick crosses the avenue with them.

  Kaddie sipped her tea and felt the nethermint’s taste bite the back of her throat. Up until now she had been separating the events of what happened outside the city, with her life within the city itself. It seemed to be the most logical thing to do; it gave her the illusion of safety and made her feel better.

  But during the discussion at the table, she saw the illusion for what it was, and now it was gone she expected to feel frightened. Instead, she felt angry and sad.

  “We stick to the new routine, no cheating,” Robles continued, “and we should be fine.”

  “Have you spoken to Captain Young about this?” Kaddie asked.

  “It’s today’s task, although I’ve no wish to involve her too much. Some of her men aren’t exactly trustworthy.”

  “Corrupt to the core,” Elspeth said. “If they’re not in the Theed’s pocket, they’ll be in the partial employ of Benni Addaro, or one of the others.”

  “Except the Lassings,” Torrell suggested. “Who don’t exist any more.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” Marla lifted the teapot and carried it back to the hearth. “The Lassings have cousins in the capital, no doubt eager to get their hands on whatever they left behind.”

  “But what about Nianne?” Kaddie asked.

  “If they don’t know about her, maybe that’s how it should stay.” Robles stood and rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. “Very well, let us carry on with the remainder of the day. We might be in dire peril and terrified beyond measure,” he smirked at Kaddie, “but we still have a dispensary to run.”

  ##

  The new precautions meant, unless Pick and Coglan were available, that Kaddie had to accompany Torrell on all of his errands. This meant spending more time outdoors, roaming the streets of Terohas, and less on her studies.

  The new acquisitions from the Shale were all ready to be tested and catalogued. But now she’d have to share the undertaking with Marla and Robles and, infuriatingly, rely on some of their notes which were bound to be inferior to her own.

  However, there was no leaving Torrell at the mercies of their enemies, and although it was an arrangement that destroyed her patience, Torrell would simply have to put up with the lack of it and it was a small price for him to pay.

  Four days into their new routine, they were crossing one of the main thoroughfares of the subterranean second city. Kaddie’s knowledge of its geography, its shortcuts and demographics, was growing rapidly and she was becoming more at ease knowing what to say and how to act. Consequently, Torrell wasn’t making as much fun of her.

  “Brought your sickle?”

  “Need you ask? Tell me about the glass merchant. Is it close to the palace?”

  “No, and stop asking about the palace. The more we stay away, the longer we’ll live. You’re becoming obsessed.”

  “But how are we supposed to find out more about the Theeds and whomever else is trying to kill us?” She kept pace as they descended another level. Her feet rapped hard on the stone steps. “I heard Robles talking to Elspeth about knowing one’s enemy, so we both know he’ll be spying on them.”

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  “If he’s doing it, there’s no need for us to do it.”

  “How much time do you think he spends down here?”

  The passageway narrowed for a short stretch. Conorum lanterns fizzled dully, threatening to plunge them temporarily into darkness. Kaddie remembered her first time in the tunnels and how spooky it was. Now, it didn’t bother her so much.

  They emerged onto a wide street that bore a particularly low ceiling. It was mid-afternoon, and busy. Squat stores lay on either side of the thoroughfare, shorter than their loftier counterparts elsewhere in the tunnels.

  Bolts of fabric, clay pots, and small items of furniture lay outside on display. Her first time here, Kaddie paused for a moment, looking this way and that, in order to get her bearings, until her eyes settled on the face of a man a short distance behind them.

  Frantically, she tugged on Torrell’s sleeve. “Breso,” she hissed.

  “Where?”

  “Right behind us.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We do not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’ll frighten us.”

  “Kaddie, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t lose your nerve now, Torrell Voldan. Where’s the store?”

  Right over there.” He pointed to a row of tiny windows overshadowed by one of the street’s main supports. Lights flickered brightly within, beckoning them from the threat directly behind them.

  “Come on.” She grabbed his arm and began pulling.

  “Go easy. I can walk unaided, you know.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Ha. You’re just as scared as I am.”

  “Nonsense.” She paused and turned. Sure enough, the Theed’s henchman, Mr. Breso, was across the street, looking at her with the same expression he’d used when he and Mr. Tenadas had paid a threatening visit to the dispensary.

  This time it was Torrell’s turn to pull on her coat sleeve. He opened a door and drew her inside. Bright lights, and a flight of steps into a store sunk well below street level. Her consternation regarding Breso was forgotten as she gazed at the elegant displays that lined all four walls.

  She had expected to see examples of utilitarian glassware—beakers, tubes, flasks—of different sizes and qualities. Instead, she became transfixed by a bright blue statuette of a fish, its mouth open, its tail high in the air. Alongside it was a large figure of a dragon, its glass wings tainted a fiery red.

  Torrell was at the counter, talking to the storekeeper. She heard the words dispensary and Robles mentioned. There was a list they had brought with them, written up in Marla’s exacting hand. Both Elspeth and Robles had broken beakers in the last few days. Torrell and Kaddie had brought the remnants to recycle, and she wondered if any of their jagged pieces would find new life in sculptures such as these.

  “Half now, half on delivery,” a male voice said.

  Kaddie pulled her attention reluctantly from the display and joined Torrell at the counter. At its other side, a man was inspecting the list, while Torrell was busy counting out coins. Their cloth bag of broken glass lay on the counter between them.

  “Might have to wait an extra day or two for the flasks.”

  Torrell stopped counting. “Oh?”

  “We don’t make them, here. There are women who specialize in the Flats.”

  “They have a glass furnace?”

  Kaddie leaned on the counter, her interest piqued.

  “You’d be surprised what they have outside the wall.”

  Torrell gave a conciliatory shrug. “Okay, but how come there’s a delay?”

  “It’s the main gate. The Theeds have it locked down. Priority is given to those who pay. Everyone else has to wait.”

  “That’s why we had such a long wait the other day,” Kaddie said.

  The storekeeper regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

  “This is Kaddie,” Torrell said.

  “Robles’ new apprentice?”

  “I’m not that new.”

  The man laughed and held out his hand. “Bryn Olderall. Glass blower, artist, merchant, at your service.”

  The hand she shook was dry, calloused, and long-fingered. Their owner had kind eyes. “Did you make that dragon?”

  “Yes. My elder brother created the fish.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  Torrell looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “The delivery?”

  Kaddie grinned.

  A curtain was drawn aside at the rear of the counter. Kaddie recognized the young man who emerged. Bryn pushed Torrell’s list into his hand. “Glen, take this and get started.”

  Glen snatched the list and disappeared with all haste.

  Bryn shook his head and faced his customers. “With the exception of the flasks, we’ll deliver tomorrow.”

  “Wasn’t he—” Torrell began.

  Kaddie elbowed him in the ribs. “No, he wasn’t.”

  But—”

  “Let’s pay up and be on our way.” She smiled at Bryn, who looked somewhat confused.

  Torrell muttered something unintelligible as he re-counted his coins and pushed them across the counter. Both men initialed a battered sales ledger, and after a polite goodbye, she and Torrell left the store.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That was the boy who hit you in the face.”

  “What if it was? Were you about to snitch on him to his employer?”

  “Of course I was. He can’t just go around, threatening people in the tunnels.”

  “On that, we agree. It’s okay, he owes me, now.”

  Torrell frowned. “You think so? At least there’s no sign of Breso.”

  She gave a start. The glass sculptures, and Glen, had pushed aside all thoughts of Breso. A quick examination of the street, Torrell was proved right, and she let out a sigh of relief.

  “Come on,” he said. “We should get back.”

  He led the way, but instead of the narrow alleys they’d used on their outward journey, he stuck to the main streets and the larger, well-lit tunnels, and although the journey took longer it also meant she wasn’t about to die of fright whenever they turned a corner.