“Do not be worrying,” Semele told him. “There is no one else on the road. Also, it is dark, and I think there will be a rising fog tonight. It would take very good eyes to see through all of this, and spot you for someone unChanged who keeps Tamlin company.”

Essa and Thomas went below, grumbling. Rownie could hear further grumbling inside the wagon, though he couldn’t hear what either one of them said.

He watched the road, a long and winding stretch of packed dirt surrounded by trees with twisting branches and roots. A fog did rise up, slowly covering the ground until the world itself seemed made out of fog, with only the wagon real and solid in it. Rownie couldn’t see well enough to spot fallen trees, or any other roadblocks, so he just crossed his toes and hoped there were none. Semele still managed to keep the wheels on the road.

“That was quick thinking and quick doing,” Semele told him. “I could see you in the audience, from spy-holes in the puppet stage.”

“I just kicked him,” Rownie said. “That’s all.”

“That is not all,” Semele said. “You put yourself where you needed to be, and you had the foresight to do so. This was very well done.”

Rownie savored the praise. He didn’t get praise very often, so he was not entirely sure what to do with it. It made his face feel warmer in the foggy air. He didn’t savor that warmth for very long, though. In his memory he saw Patch fall again, and again he felt as though he were also falling. He opened his eyes, and stared at the fog.

Something itched at the back of his mind.

“Graba has a lot of birds,” he said. “All over the city, and even outside the city. We were a good ways upriver when her birds attacked us.”

“Yes,” said Semele. “Not all pigeons are hers, even in Zombay, but she does use very many of them.”

“She’s looking for Rowan too,” said Rownie. “She was always asking about him, before.”

“She would be, yes,” said Semele.

“So why hasn’t Graba found him? She keeps finding us. She keeps sending birds after us. She must be looking for Rowan, and her pigeons are pretty much everywhere, but Rowan’s been gone for months. Why hasn’t she found him?”

“I do not know,” said Semele. She said it gently.

“Maybe he isn’t here to be found,” Rownie said. He didn’t like saying that. He felt like he might make it true by saying it out loud. Maybe if he kept quiet, he could keep it from being true—but he couldn’t keep quiet. “Maybe Rowan left the city already, without me. Or maybe he’s dead.”