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“They’ll have to find it first,” Rilda said, coming over with a bowl of pottage. Hers smelled like lamb, which was also the type of beast that had been turning on the spit. It had been removed now, and pieces were being portioned out for the crowd.

“They might,” Gillian said, a frown between her eyes. “As want descends into famine, people are going to wonder: why does this street not starve? Why do they smell clean; why have they no illness, no disease? You’re getting away with it now, but if the Circle starts paying attention—”

“They won’t bother w’us,” the Abraham man said, around a mouthful of chicken.

He and the rest of the thieves had arrayed themselves on a little hill, under the spreading arms of an oak. Kit and Gillian, and now Rilda, had found seats slightly ahead of them and further down the slope, but still within earshot. And the little group weren’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

The friar agreed. “The Circle cares about power, and we have none.”

“What do you know about the Silver Circle?” Kit asked.

The man shrugged. “Enough. And like you said, we know how the world works. Queens in their palaces, nobles in their stately homes, bishops in their cathedrals— ‘tis always the same. Money and power rule the world; rest of us just live in it.”

There were nods all around.

And then laughter, as the latest leaf creature—a reddish brown fox—gamboled by overhead, trailed by a group of children trying to catch its bushy tail. Several stepped on Kit in their hurry, but he didn’t begrudge them their moment of joy. He even sat a little girl back on her feet who had fallen over in the confusion and never noticed that a monster had helped her up.

She ran off, her eyes still on the frolicking pile of leaves, and Kit noticed Gillian ducking her head to hide a smile.

Well, at least he was back in someone’s good graces, he thought, and felt his own lips twitch.

Rilda didn’t seem to notice, being focused on the question at hand. “We’re not leaving it to chance,” she told Gillian shortly.

“I don’t think a baby dragon is going to protect you from the Circle,” Gillian said doubtfully. “Not if they come in force.”

Rilda huffed out a laugh. “No more do I. She’s a terrible coward, really. And as lazy as the rest o’ them. Just wants to eat and play with this lot.” She hiked a thumb at the thieves.

“She’s a sweetheart, if you know where to scratch,” the older woman thief said. “Rolls right over onter her belly and purrs.”

“And sheds sparks in the process,” Dick, the handsome courtesy man, added darkly.

“Lit him up,” the counterfeit crank agreed, with the same beatific smile as before. “He went running off, yelling and smoking and leaving a trail all over the landscape. T’was a sight, it was.”

“She ruined my best jerkin,” the courtesy man said heatedly. “There were scorch marks all over it. Not to mention what she did to my slops!”

“Better your slops than the arse under ‘em,” the friar said, and then he and the crank laughed.

The courtesy man got up and strode off.

“But if not the dragon,” Gillian said, looking puzzled. “Then how do you—”

Rilda glanced at Kit and shook her head. “Not now.”

She started eating.

“Then perhaps you can help me with something else,” he said, seizing his chance, and Gillian quickly produced Mircea’s drawing.

It must have been a good one, because Rilda immediately nodded, her flyaway gray hair dancing on the breeze that her magic had wrought. “Ring of Water. Chloris’s old burden. Why d’ye want to know about this?”

“Chloris Lyley?” Gillian said. “The leader of the Aspden coven?”

“Aye, while it lasted. Wiped out in the war it was, to a woman—or a man. They had some fine wizards, the Aspden’s did, but Chloris was chosen by the old leader, Abigail, to succeed her.”

“Where is she now?”

Rilda shot her a look. “Where d’ye think?”

“She died in the war as well?” Gillian asked, looking as if that was the answer she’d expected. But Rilda shook her head.