“What was that?” Telos said. Jubal ran to the trap door and opened it. Smoke poured in through the orifice and he quickly slammed it shut again. The smell stuck in the lungs as Telos took deep breaths. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  Jubal nodded.

  He ran to the triple-locked door and knocked in a strange, musical pattern. A moment later the door opened and several theronts stepped through. There was a man with the face and wings of a kingfisher; his plumage gleamed and winked, mesmeric. A woman with the features of a mole shuffled in on stumpy legs, her dark eyes darting around in fright, though clearly they did not see much. Another looked half-crocodile, with a tail, extended snout, and scaled flesh; his movements were awkward on land, though Telos suspected in waterways he was fearsomely fast. There were others, more answering Jubal’s summons, a small host.

  “We have been discovered,” Jubal said. “We must depart.”

  “This is because you helped that human,” the crocodile theront spat.

  “Yes, I helped him. I believe still the enemy of our enemy is our friend. And are we to debase ourselves like them? Killing another because of the mould of their flesh?”

  The crocodile hung his head.

  “No, Jubal.”

  “We must waste no more time. The fires climb swiftly.” Jubal turned to Telos. “There is an escape route, built into the hollow of the tree. We must descend that way.”

  “But the fire—” the mole-theront squeaked.

  “Will take a little while to penetrate to the interior. It will be warm, but we should be safe. We must go quickly, however.”

  At last, the message was received. All of the theronts scrambled back through the door. Telos followed, trying to stick close to Jubal. There were several short hallways and many doors leading to private rooms. Telos did not see much of it, for his mind was a whirl of fear and anger.

  Eventually, they reached an oval-shaped entryway set into the trunk of the tree. Jubal opened it and one by one the theronts clambered into the dark interior. For some of them, the climb would clearly be a great challenge, for their limbs were not made for ladders.

  Jubal turned to Telos as the others continued to file into the escape tunnel. He drew a bone dagger from his belt. The blade was beautifully shaped and honed, its edges glinting with razor sharpness. The handle was of silk, delicately woven and dyed indigo. The crossguard and pommel were also of bone.

  “This is a Daimonbone dagger. Take it,” Jubal said. “And if you ever get a chance, drive it into the Warden’s heart.”

  Telos stood speechless. It was a kingly gift, and an act of sublime faith. At last, he nodded and sheathed the dagger in his own belt. Jubal smiled.

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  “Come, it is our turn. Into the hole.”

  Telos climbed in and began to descend the ladder. The smell of the place was wet, the walls alive with mould and fungus. As Jubal had predicted, it was frighteningly warm within. The fires were rising. Telos felt a childhood horror resurface: of being shut in an oven and cooked by some wicked witch.

  Down he climbed. Each rung he feared he would slip and fall. When he looked below, he saw nothing but darkness. He wondered how the tree still lived with its centre carved out. Then again, he had met many people who were the same way.

  The heat thickened. The air was musty bile in the lungs, brackish and ancient and unnaturally warmed, like the close atmosphere before a thunderstorm.

  The treehouse had been suspended maybe fifty feet high. That distance seemed an unimaginably long way down.

  A scream split the air. Light flashed through the vertical hollow, yellow and red and dancing. Smoke flooded the blackness and Telos choked and spluttered.

  “Keep going, everyone!” Jubal cried, somewhere below.

  A window had opened in the trunk and admitted fire. Telos tried to climb around it, but his fingers burned. He let go—dropping a few feet before catching onto the next rung. It was an old thieves’ trick for descending a building wall quickly, and made it harder for archers to shoot, but it was only to be done with certain handholds.

  And then, all at once, Telos stood on solid, earthen ground. He could see only by the breaching flamelight—now above him. There was some kind of tunnel leading away, its entrance overhung by a spiderweb of roots that divided and divided like veins in the human body, diminishing to impossible thinness considering the size of the tree they supported.

  The smell of Daimonsblood was morbidly thick, suffocating.

  “On, on!” Jubal cried, perhaps to him or someone else.

  Telos plunged on after the theront’s voice. The tunnel was not large and even though he was a short man, he had to stoop to make his way down it. He could vaguely discern shapes ahead, flashes of animal form, scampering for freedom.

  The tunnel sloped, so steep he thought he might fall into a pit, then welcomely climbed again. The light of the fires behind receded until, ahead, he saw daylight.

  He ran, more monkey than man; it was only a few yards to freedom now.

  At the last moment, his thief’s senses tingled. He felt the movement before he saw or heard it.

  The wall next to him exploded. Dirt, stone, and worm avalanched as a shrieking Tunnel Hunter came scuttling through the debris toward him.

  Seven eyed, it glared. An arrow still protruded from its skull, slick with some equivalent of blood. Its limbs thrashed at Telos and he battered them away with helpless slaps and kicks, but they were brutally strong, and he was outnumbered.

  The creature surged forward, overeager, pinning him to the wall but not yet landing a killing blow. Mandibles snapped and vile breath washed over him. He sensed its rage; it’d come for revenge.

  Screaming, Telos drew his new dagger from his belt and carved out yet another one of its gleaming eyes the way an archeologist might carve a gemstone from its niche. The monster howled and staggered. Viscous fluid poured from its mutilated face. Once again, it retreated, unable to countenance pain.

  Telos fled down the tunnel, passing the dagger from hand to hand as he ran. A bit of luck after all, he thought.

  Then he emerged out of the natural cave-mouth and saw what waited for him.