They turned around and went back up the alley. More shouting. More crying. The noise was spreading through Eldmere like a plague.

  They emerged onto a wider street, it looked quiet. They walked along, and as they rounded a bend they saw a family standing on their doorstep. Mother, father, two children—one maybe six, the other younger. Between them and the guards was a fluffy black and white dog. Not old like the last one. Young. Sleek. Someone's companion, clearly loved.

  "She's always with me!" A teenage girl was pleading, voice breaking. "She follows me everywhere! She couldn't have done anything wrong!"

  "King's orders, miss." The guard's voice was uncomfortable but firm. "All dogs must be brought to the palace courtyard."

  "But WHY? What did they do?"

  "That's not for me to say. Orders are orders."

  He took the rope around the dog's neck. The dog pulled back, confused, trying to understand why it was being separated from its family. Tail tucked. Ears back.

  "No! Please!" The girl grabbed for the rope.

  Her father pulled her back gently. "Don't. Don't make it worse."

  "But Papa—"

  "I know." His voice was thick. "I know."

  The guard led the dog away. It kept looking back over its shoulder, whining softly reluctant to go with the guards.

  The girl collapsed against her father, sobbing.

  Hidden in a recessed doorway, the group watched in horror.

  "What—" Dain started.

  "Shh," Seren hissed.

  Kith didn’t joke. Didn’t sneer.

  Her ears flattened tight against her skull. “No,” she said quietly. “Nope. That’s not happening. Not on my watch.”

  They pressed back into the shadows as the guards passed with the dog.

  Once they were gone, the group moved again. Quietly. Staying out of sight.

  But it was happening everywhere.

  Another street. Another family. An older couple this time, their tan dog middle-aged, friendly-looking. The woman was crying silently as the guards took it. The man's hands were fists at his sides, shaking, but he didn't move. Couldn't move.

  "This is wrong," the man said, voice low. Dangerous. "This is—"

  "Careful, sir." The guard's hand moved to his sword. "Careful what you say."

  The man's jaw clenched. But he said nothing more.

  They decided to follow the guards to see what they were doing to the dogs.

  They turned another corner and found the answer.

  The market square had been turned into a holding area.

  Dogs everywhere. Dozens of them. All sizes, all ages. Clearly pets, clearly confused. Some sitting quietly, bewildered. Others pulling against their ropes, trying to get back to owners who stood at the square's edge, watching helplessly. Not allowed to approach. Not allowed to take them back.

  Guards were positioned around the perimeter. More guards arriving with more dogs.

  Two guards stood near the entrance, close enough for the hidden group to hear.

  "How many now?"

  "Twenty-three. Still searching the western districts."

  "All of them to the courtyard by sunset, captain says."

  "ALL of them? Even after we identify which one did it?"

  "King wants every dog. Says it sends a message." The guard lowered his voice. "Between you and me, this is madness. But after what happened to that servant this morning—"

  "I heard. Public execution. For not stopping the dog who humiliated the king from Garanwyn."

  "Hanged. So we do what we're told. Every dog in Eldmere. No exceptions."

  The first guard shook his head. "All these dogs being put to death because one fouled the ray cloth. That's..."

  "That's King Jorvan."

  Ink whined a little.

  Ink's eyes were fixed on the holding area. On all those dogs. Tails tucked. Confused. Scared. Waiting.

  Because of her.

  "Oh gods," Dain breathed, understanding dawning. "The ceremony. What Ink did. They're—"

  "The servant," Cocky whispered, voice hollow. "They killed a servant! Just for seeing it happen. And now—"

  "All the dogs," Kith finished. Her voice was strained. "Every single one. Because of—"

  He looked at Ink.

  For once, he had no jokes.

  Ink started shaking.

  The plan had worked. The humiliation had been perfect. Jorvan's dignity destroyed in front of the entire city.

  And the cost was too high.

  Ink stepped forward. Dain realized what what she was doing.

  Then Seren saw and panicked, she grabbed Ink’s scruff in her fists and yanked her back.

  “We have to get Ink out of here” Seren said urgently in a low voice.

  "Merren's ship," Dain said suddenly.

  "She'd be safe," Kith finished. "Out of Eldmere entirely."

  Another commotion as more guards brought more dogs into the square.

  A woman sobbing. "Please! She's all I have! My husband died last year and she's—please, she's all I have left!"

  "King's orders, ma'am. I'm sorry."

  "Sorry doesn't—" Her voice broke into sobs.

  Seren turned to leave.

  But Cocky was caught up in the despair. He made a noise—half crow, half sob. Distressed. Too loud.

  The nearest guard's head turned. Looked toward their alley.

  Saw them.

  His eyes widened as he spotted Ink. "THERE! ANOTHER DOG!"

  He dropped his current rope—the dog he'd been holding bolted immediately, the woman who owned her not wasting a second, grabbing the rope and running.

  The guard was reaching for his whistle—

  A few more dogs managed to pull free in the commotion.

  "RUN!" Seren shouted.

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  Pip took off. "This way! Follow me!"

  They ran.

  Behind them, the whistle shrilled. Sharp. Urgent.

  More shouts. More boots pounding.

  "DOG HEADING SOUTH!"

  Pip skidded around corners, leading them through the maze of Eldmere's back streets. She knew every alley, every shortcut, every place the guards didn't watch as carefully.

  But the whistles kept multiplying. Guards were converging from everywhere.

  "Here!" Pip yanked up a grate. "The sewers! Down!"

  Dain grabbed the grate, hauled it fully open. "Go!"

  Kith jumped through.

  Prattle did not go down the sewers, and instead took the sky route towards the docks. Then he remembered…

  Merren may not be there anymore! He’d forgotten to say Merren was leaving for Caladwyth.

  Pip next.

  Guards appeared at the alley entrance as Ink was about to jump into the sewer. Three of them. "STOP! BY ORDER OF KING JORVAN!"

  She froze. But Dain grabbed her and jumped down.

  Seren's hand went to Stormdrink. Drew it in one smooth motion. The blade sung as it left its scabbard.

  The first guard charged.

  Seren lunged—perfect form, perfect technique, blade aimed for his heart—

  The cobblestone under his boot wobbled. Ancient mortar, finally giving way. He went down hard, landed on his tailbone with a shout of pain.

  Seren blinked.

  The second guard raised his club, coming at her from the side.

  Seren pivoted, swung Stormdrink—

  A loose stone fell from the wall above. Dropped directly onto his head with a sickening crack. He crumpled.

  What?

  The third guard drew his sword. "You're under arrest for—"

  Seren backed toward the grate, blade ready. The guard stepped forward—

  His foot came down on the edge of the grate. The metal flipped. His leg went through. He screamed, knee bending at a wrong angle as he fell.

  Seren stared at Stormdrink. At the blade. Every time she went to strike it turned into an accident. One she could understand. Two could be a coincidence, but three? She didn’t have time to puzzle it out then.

  "SEREN!" Dain's voice from below. "NOW!"

  She sheathed Stormdrink and dropped through the grate. Landed in cold water, knee-deep.

  Dain jumped up and pulled the grate back down.

  Pip was already moving ahead, sure-footed even in the dark. "This way! Current flows toward the harbor!"

  Above them, more guards arrived. Voices echoing down through the grate.

  “What happened here?” Was the last thing they heard as they headed to the docks by way of the sewers.

  The group ran through the darkness. Water rats squeaking and water sloshing. The current pulling them forward—everything in Eldmere eventually flowed to the sea.

  "Left here," Pip whispered urgently. "There's a grate above—main street. Stay quiet."

  They could hear boots overhead. Guards running. Whistles blowing.

  The sewer opened ahead. Daylight. The smell of salt water.

  They emerged behind a warehouse—

  "THERE! BY THE DOCKS!"

  Guards. Coming from both directions along the waterfront.

  The only path open was straight down the pier.

  And at the end of the pier—The Black Ballad. Already pulling away. Six feet of water between ship and dock.

  "MERREN!" Seren screamed.

  Merren appeared at the rail. Saw them. Then she saw Prattle flying into the air, coming back to them.

  "Ink, go!" Seren shouted.

  But Ink was already running.

  Full sprint down the pier. The ship was ten feet out now. Still moving. Sails catching wind.

  Ears flat. Eyes fixed on the ship.

  Sixteen feet.

  The gap widening with every heartbeat.

  "INK NO—"

  The black dog launched herself from the pier's edge.

  For one impossible moment, she was flying.

  She hit the ship's rail hard. Scrabbled. Claws scraping wood.

  Merren was there instantly, grabbing her scruff, hauling her over.

  She tumbled onto the deck.

  Safe.

  "GO!" Seren shouted across the widening gap. "GO NOW!"

  Guards were almost on them. "STOP! IN THE NAME OF KING JORVAN!"

  Merren bellowed to his crew. "FULL SAIL! NOW!"

  The ship lurched. Caught more wind. Moving faster.

  Thirty feet. Forty.

  Ink appeared at the rail, looking back across the water.

  At Seren standing on the dock.

  At Dain and Kith and Cocky and Pip.

  At the city that wanted her dead.

  Their eyes met across the widening gap.

  No goodbye. No words.

  Then Seren had to turn. Had to run.

  "This way!" Pip was already moving. "Back into the city! Lose them in the alleys!"

  They scattered.

  Pip darted left, small and fast, disappearing between buildings.

  Dain, Kith and Prattle went right, the jackdaw flying ahead to scout.

  Seren and Cocky went left after Pip.

  The guards poured onto the dock. Looking everywhere. Shouting.

  "Which way?"

  "I saw them—"

  "Split up! Find them!"

  But the group was already gone, melted into Eldmere's maze of streets and shadows.

  ***

  On the dock, standing in the shadows of his own ship, Eustace the Monk watched it all unfold.

  He'd seen the black dog. The group running. The desperate leap to Merren's vessel.

  He'd seen them scatter through the city.

  He could call out right now. Point the guards in the right directions. Tell them exactly where each member of the group had gone.

  Theron would want to know.

  Valgarr would reward him well for the information.

  But Eustace was a gambling man. And he knew how to play the odds.

  Right now, Jorvan and Valgarr held all the power. Supporting them was the safe bet.

  But power was a fickle thing. Especially power built on forcing advisors to sign documents against their will. Especially power that executed servants and slaughtered dogs. No one likes people who kill dogs.

  That kind of power bred resentment. Resistance.

  And if this ragtag group somehow managed to succeed—if they actually found a way to undermine Jorvan's takeover—then the man who'd helped them would be in a very good position indeed.

  Eustace smiled to himself.

  Turning them in would earn him favour now—and enemies later. Eustace preferred to stay alive long enough to collect.

  Until then?

  He'd seen nothing.

  A guard ran past, still searching. Eustace gave him a friendly nod, the picture of helpful cooperation.

  "Any luck?"

  "They vanished! Cursed streets are a maze!"

  "Terrible shame," Eustace said sympathetically. "I do hope you find them."

  The guard ran on.

  Eustace looked out at The Black Ballad, now a distant shape on the water. Sails full. Heading east with its cargo of one dog.

  Then he looked back at the city. At the maze of streets where wanted fugitives were hiding.

  "Very interesting," he murmured to himself. "Very interesting indeed."

  He turned and walked back to the Serpent's Smile.

  He had a ship to prepare. After all, this wasn’t an escape. It was the opening move of a larger game — and Eustace intended to see how many players joined before placing his bet..

  And Eustace had been hired to follow.

  ***

  The late sun hung low and blinding, its amber light searing the eyes. The shadows it cast had grown teeth—long and dark, they devoured more of the square than the light could reach.

  All the dogs were gathered in the square. Barking. Whining. Desperately trying to pull free.

  Valgarr had sent Theron to ensure that the guards killed the dogs. His jaw tightened. This was a distasteful part of being inquisitor. But necessary.

  A shadow swept over the square almost meeting his feet.

  He looked up. But the sun was in his eyes. He couldn’t see anything.

  “ARE ALL THE DOGS IN THE SQUARE?” he called out over the noise.

  A sword clattered; he looked over.

  A guard stood frozen.

  Another sword clattered.

  “The gods have sent a spectre!” another guard said in awe.

  Theron looked to where the guards were looking. There was a black void against the setting sun. At the edge of the square a completely black silhouette.

  It looked like a hole in the wall. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  Then the black void took a step forward. Another. The creature extended its wings—massive, leathery, like a dragon's—blocking the sun.

  The guards screamed. Fear—he could feel it radiating from every man in the square.

  The gods had sent a demon to punish them. This thing brought death.

  A guard screamed and turned to flee in blind panic straight into the guard behind him.

  Three guards dropped their swords and fled.

  Then everyone fled. The sound of swords clattering, panicked screaming and boots hitting the ground was deafening.

  He tripped over the steps behind him, caught himself, and fled.

  ***

  Some dogs barked ferociously.

  Others screamed in panic.

  Some tried to pull away in vain.

  Most had their tails tucked. Eyes wide and frozen in fear.

  A few dogs managed to bite through their restraints.

  But most of the dogs were tied up and couldn’t get away.

  She snorted in indignation seeing all the dogs tied up.

  The shape stepped calmly among the dogs. She lowered her head, jaws closing around the rope cords.

  As she bit through each rope, her fangs looked golden in the evening light.

  As each dog was freed, some ran. Some froze. Some followed her like she was the only solid thing left in the world. Some sniffed her, before calmly trotting off to their homes.

  A few older dogs struggled. Petunia left the square with them, walking at their pace. One by one, she led them home.