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Celcha had been wondering about them. They didn’t need gas for light and in consequence the supply ended further down the mountain, leaving the library kitchens to cook the meals on charcoal-burning stoves.

“We should hurry.” Hellet set off towards the stairs at quite a stride.

“Wait.” Celcha, limping on her sore ankle, felt unsteady on the treacherous cavern floor.

“Hurry!” Hellet snapped the word, sounding more worried than at any time during their wildly dangerous adventure so far, and apparently with less reason.

Celcha gritted her teeth and hurried. The fog had stung her eyes even when she wasn’t in it, so she shared some of her brother’s urgency. She’d rather not be wandering blind inside it, waiting for it to clear before her streaming eyes could show her the world again.

Together they wound their way down the stairs and through the complex. They saw nobody in the complex’s corridors save a lone guard who sniffed as they passed, as if their fur still carried the reek of methalayne, and a few kitchen staff who lived on site. The librarians and apprentices had yet to rise for the day.

Hellet stumbled through the passageways, head down, looking the opposite of someone celebrating a triumph. His muttering accompanied them through the complex, a repetition of alchemical formulas, a litany of science that meant nothing to Celcha but sounded curiously like a mourning song.

At the wolf’s head entrance two armoured guards watched them leave as the sun started to rise over the sleeping city.

“You two shouldn’t be going out alone,” one man called after them.

Celcha turned back to address them. You didn’t ignore a master, especially not a guard. “Librarian Sellna sent us to get—”

“Not together she didn’t.” The other guard stepped towards them. “One of you stays here. You know the rules.”

Celcha hadn’t heard this rule before, but then again, until last night’s activities, Hellet hadn’t left the library since his arrival. It made sense though: two of them leaving together was much more likely to be an escape attempt.

“I’ll stay.” Hellet stumbled past her. “I’ll stay. It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

“The mercury. I think it poisoned me. Did something to my mind.”

“Mercury?” Celcha wasn’t following him.

“The quicksilver. It should have worked. I was so sure. I did the calculations. I did them so many—”

“I’m not leaving without you.” Celcha started back towards the guards with him.

“Celcha!” Hellet grabbed hold of both her wrists and steered her towards him, staring into her eyes. “I need you to go down and tell the ganar what we’ve done.” He glanced away at the approaching guard. “I’ll be fine here. They’ll all be asleep in a short while. I’ll join you at the gas house. Now go!” He released her roughly, pushing her away, down the slope.

Celcha couldn’t argue with the logic, but something felt badly wrong. Yet Hellet was right: the ganar had to know. There wasn’t much time and they needed to understand that. To seize the opportunity. She was scared of what they might do, scared of the consequences, scared of everything, but Hellet had been right, things couldn’t be left the way they were.

“I won’t be long!” And with that she was off, jogging down the slope on tired legs, wincing each time she put weight on the ankle she’d hurt.

An unrooted sense of disaster chased her, nipping at her heels. And down below, the silent city waited beneath a rising sun.

There’s always a bigger fish. And sometimes it’s not a fish.

Competitive Angling, by Posey Idon

CHAPTER 21

Arpix

Between them Kerrol and Arpix helped Clovis back out of the mine workings. The cratalacs were all dead, torn apart in some inexplicable way by Wentworth, who although huge for a house cat, seemed no more dangerous than a biggish dog. Salamonda had not yet given an account of how Yute’s pet had managed to defend her to such devastating effect.

Arpix explained this to Clovis as she slumped against him, one arm around his shoulders, the other around her brother’s. He told her that Evar was scouting the perimeter. That brought her first, pained response.

“At least someone’s doing something sensible.”

“Kerrol and I are not?” Arpix felt rather aggrieved.