“Not so fast, not so fast,” Thomas called from inside. “We must return the masks to their places. The rest of the unloading can wait for tomorrow, but these should be properly cared for before anyone retreats to their own bed and blankets. Please show the boy where his own masks belong.”

Essa stumbled back into the wagon, grumbling, and came out again with an armful of masks. The fox was among them, and also the giant that Rownie had briefly worn on the wagon stage.

“Here,” Essa mumbled. “Take these two, and follow me.”

Rownie took the giant and the fox, carrying one in each hand. Essa held the princess mask, and the hero mask, and a few others besides. She also had the half mask that Patch had worn that morning, which seemed a very long time ago to Rownie—years and centuries ago. Much had happened since.

He followed Essa through a passageway to an iron staircase. The staircase led both up and down. “We’re going up!” Essa called behind her, from somewhere above.

“What’s down?” Rownie asked. They were on the Fiddleway, and Rownie didn’t think that a bridge could actually have a downstairs.

“Barracks,” said Essa, “all the way down the central pylon. People used to keep watch here for pirates and such, but now they don’t bother. Some bits of the bridge still have skinny little windows for shooting things out of.”

Rownie heard gearwork, turning and clanking against itself. He could almost hear Graba’s legs in the noise. He could almost see her in the dim shadows. He almost felt her talon-toes opening and closing nearby. He was angry at Graba for her curses and birds, for Patch falling down and farther down, and he was afraid of Graba, and he was angry for being afraid and upset with himself for having made Graba upset with him. He pushed all of those feelings into a small and heavy lump of clay inside his chest, and then he tried to ignore the lump.

The staircase led up into a vast, towering space. Gears and springs, weights and pendulums all filled the center of it, turning slowly and interlocking. Crates and a jumbled mess of cloth and carpentry covered the floor. Rownie saw open wardrobes full of costumes, a workbench with all manner of tools, and several bookshelves. This was just as astonishing as anything else—Rownie had never before seen so many books together.

Lanterns burned high overhead, illuminating huge circles of stained glass built into the four stone walls. Each circle showed a city skyline and a gray moon, half full. The sight was familiar, only now Rownie saw it from the inside out. He stared. His mouth was open. He didn’t notice.

He stood inside the Clock Tower.

Act III, Scene II