She had cunning, both as a hawk, and as a veteran of the care system. So no, she wasn’t going to do what the woman wanted. She’d stay outside and keep watch for the dragon. She had almost turned away, when unexpected movement caught her attention. There was a hole in the floor, surrounded by what she’d thought was an odd metal cage, but now she could see was a curving banister.

A dark mass of long black wavy hair, the hint of an orange collar. He was facing away, then slowly, slowly, his head came around to reveal his face.

It took her a moment to recognise him. It was a longer moment than it took for him to gasp, and longer still than him spotting a massive bird of prey peering intently at him from the broken balcony doors. That the geomancer stood between them, her back to him, was mostly lost as mere detail.

The geomancer turned as quickly as her injuries would allow, and Dalip stayed where he was on the staircase, his empty hands raised.

‘You.’

‘Yes,’ he said. His gaze left Mary, alighted on the geomancer, then was back on the bird. Which had gone, and only the coffee-coloured girl remained.

‘And me,’ she said.

The geomancer was confronted front and back.

‘Mary?’ said Dalip.

‘It’ll take too long to explain. Is everyone else all right?’

‘They’re downstairs. If the guards get in, then … I don’t know.’

‘Then she has to call them off.’

‘She’s only going to do that if we threaten to hurt her.’

The geomancer banged her stick against the floor. ‘Stop discussing me like I wasn’t here. You – you are my slave, and you – I should have killed you on the mountain-top while I had the chance.’

‘I refuse to be your slave.’

‘And …’ Mary frowned. ‘You weren’t on the mountain-top.’

‘You silly little girl. Are you really that stupid?’

‘Fuck you,’ was her automatic response. ‘And fuck your wolfman, too. You’re shits, the pair of you.’

The geomancer lurched towards Mary, raising her stick to strike that foul mouth. She staggered as she swung, and she fell against a bench, upsetting the delicate brass instrument on it. It teetered for a moment, and she scrabbled to save it, all thought of violence lost.

The effort left her sprawled on the ground at Mary’s feet. Mary looked down at her trying to rise, and she realised what the pattern of cuts and bruises meant.

‘You’re the—’

‘Dragon,’ said Dalip. ‘One of the servants told us. But you, you’re a …’ He flapped his arms uselessly. ‘You’re a bird.’

‘Yes, I am, when I want to be.’

‘You’re also not very dressed.’ He shook his head to clear his mind. ‘How do we prevent her from turning?’