“My own private troupe,” the Mayor said again. “I have a few of them here with me.” He clapped his hands. The red curtains at the front of the railcar opened to reveal a small stage. Three performers stood, bowed, and began to tell a story in dumb show. They were all three masked. One mask had been painted with sharp, straight lines, like a tattooed map of Northside, and crowned with a coronet of small towers—Zombay towers, not as they currently stood, but as they used to stand. The mask wore a stern and kingly expression. The other two masks looked like fish.

Rownie forgot about how tasty the goose must be, and he almost forgot how absurd it was that Vass sat beside the Lord Mayor of Zombay. “You outlawed acting!” he shouted. He tried to keep his voice down. He couldn’t. “How can you have a troupe of your own, and a stage of your own, when you just outlawed them all?”

The secret play continued to unfold. The three performers didn’t seem to notice or mind that their audience was talking among themselves rather than paying proper attention. They went on telling their silent story, indifferent to whomever might be watching.

“It is true,” said the Mayor. His rings knocked together. “I did outlaw the theater. But just because a thing is not good for everyone doesn’t mean that I should not still enjoy it, if I can.” He winked. “Have an almond.”

He tossed Rownie a small, spiced nut. Rownie caught it. Outrage boiled up inside him, but he tried to swallow it down. Shouting at the Lord Mayor was probably not a clever thing to do, especially under the cold and ticking watchfulness of the Guard Captain, so Rownie ate the almond instead. He chewed it furiously until there was nothing left.

The Mayor continued with his meal and offered nothing more to Rownie. Vass ate a few grapes and also offered nothing. The railcar moved smoothly on its track, somewhere underneath the River.

“Floods are coming, you know,” the Mayor said. He said it to Vass and not to Rownie.

“I know they are, sir,” said Vass.

“They are expected to fill the ravine entirely and rise up as high as Southside—which is, of course, lower and closer to the River. The damage will be very severe.” The Mayor shook his head, and his chins, at the tragedy. “I am doing what I can to prepare. I am pulling together enough funds to rebuild, after the flooding has come and gone. We will return the city to its days of glory, and we will help Southside recover—and help to make it a more orderly place.”