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“You say you won’t fault us for walking away, yet you couldn’t possibly allow us to walk away now, knowing what we know.” I knew he heard the question I didn’t ask, of what would happen to me if I were to turn my back at this moment. What he would do with such a liability.

Patrick didn’t waver. “You’ll need to weigh the risks carefully then, won’t you?”

The dust motes in the air collided and sparked. My heart raced.Everything was a test. I knew, just as he did, that the fate of his plan rested with me.

I filled my chest with air, gritted my teeth, and stepped forward.

The collective seemed to sigh in relief. Theo more so than any other.

“We begin today,” Patrick said, divesting himself of his coat.

“Today?” I gaped, then noticed all the men, even Theo, seemed to be readying themselves for something. “I thought we were to meet Margarite.”

There was a smattering of laughter.

“You’ll be introduced in a moment,” Patrick said, extracting several pieces of parchment from his breast pocket. “Polly, could you have these sent off for me?”

Polly took the letters from him. “I’ll leave you all to it, then,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and made her way to the door.

“Where is she going?” I asked Theo in a quiet aside.

“The old post house,” he said. “That’s where the Scribbler’s cranny is.”

I frowned. “It looked abandoned.”

“It is,” Patrick said. “Save for Pol.”

Otto and Briggs were, at that moment, taking the ends of the large circular rug and rolling it up. “?’Scuse,” Briggs said to me, and I moved my toes from the rug’s edge.

As they rolled, they uncovered roughened timber flooring and a large wooden trapdoor. Scottie took the latch and lifted it away. A black abyss appeared beneath.

Patrick walked to its edge and peered within. “Nina,” he said. “Meet Margarite.”

I frowned, then moved forward to peer inside. I was immediately swarmed by the smell of fresh earth. The drop seemed interminable. “You must be kidding me.”

And one after the other, each man clambered down the ladder in their miner’s wear. Briggs rummaged in a cupboard first, then reappeared carrying a medley of shovels, picks, and hammers. He balanced them on his shoulder as he descended belowground.

I looked up at Patrick questioningly.

“Best to keep certain things out of sight,” was all he said, donning worker’s gloves. “This ain’t a tunnel I want anyone stumbling upon.”

Theo sighed heavily and disappeared down the ladder, leaving only myself, jaw agape, and Patrick and Tess, who headed for the door of the shop rather than the hole in its floor.

“Keep a close eye on the girl, son,” Tess remarked, then proceeded out into the square. Patrick went to bolt the door behind her.

“I think she likes me,” I murmured.

Despite all that had just transpired, Patrick laughed. As he came closer, I could see the tiny rivers of blood in his eyes. “Did you not sleep?”

He seemed bemused. “What?”

“You look tired. Did you not sleep last night?”

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “You’d think she’d ask about the great hole in the ground,” he said to Isaiah, who had laid down by the trapdoor’s opening. “Or the presence of her fellow Artisan peers. But no, she asks if I got any bloody sleep.”

I said nothing. I simply waited. If I had to guess, I’d say he didn’t get a wink.

“No, Nina. Not much sleep to be found in the night.”