The birds made hooting noises, and flapped their wings. Rownie thought that they heard him and understood him—but he couldn’t be sure of it, so he told the same thing to every new pigeon that he saw. The rail station. Tell her. Tell Graba.

Rownie came to the old station gate, and slipped through the bars. He went in as though he knew where he was going, as though he had every right to haunt that place, as though he were something to be afraid of. He almost believed that these things were true.

The Southside Rail Station was empty, save for pigeons, and for Rownie. Dusty, cloudy sunlight came through the glass panes of the ceiling. It slid down over the brass finish of abandoned railcars, and fell on the curved rust of wrought-iron benches. Pigeons swooped down from the dangling clocks and passed through the dusty light, circling, silent.

“Graba!” Rownie called out into the wide and dusty air. “I have words for you! Come hear them yourself!”

Tell me about my brother, he said silently. Come and tell me anything at all about Rowan, in exchange for the chance to catch me. Come help me find him.

At first only silence answered. The light faded, and raindrops pattered against the glass overhead. Then gearwork noise echoed throughout the station, bouncing back and forth between stone floors and columns. He thought the sound might be Graba’s legs making their long strides through a station corridor, but it wasn’t.

A single railcar drove through the tunnel at the far side of the station and came to a halt on the track only a few paces from where Rownie stood. It was an actual, working, gleaming railcar. Thick curtains covered long glass windows on the inside. The mirrored brass finish had been polished and scrubbed, so there was hardly any tarnish on it anywhere.

Rownie stared at the splendid thing. He took a few steps closer. How did it get here? he wondered. They must have pumped the water out of the whole tunnel.

The railcar doors opened. The Captain of the Guard stepped down to the platform. Vass followed behind him. She wore no expression on her face at all.

“Rownie of Southside,” the Captain said. “The Lord Mayor of all Zombay would speak with you.”

Act III, Scene VI

ROWNIE WAS UNPREPARED for this turn of events. He stared at the Captain of the Guard with his mouth hanging open.

The Captain marched forward. His boots rang out against the polished stone floor. His irises tocked and ticked in small, perfect circles as he focused on Rownie and bore down on him. The Captain took hold of Rownie’s arms and steered him toward the railcar before Rownie could even think about slipping on the fox mask and declaring himself uncatchable.