“I speak for this city, child,” he said. His voice was cold. “I do. No one is going to wear a piece of plaster and pretend to speak for Zombay. No one is going to negotiate on behalf of Zombay—not to armies or to diplomats or to the River itself—unless I appoint them to do so. That is my office. I will uphold it, and you will show proper respect. Do not pretend to be other than you are.”

“What am I, then?” Rownie asked. It was an honest question.

The Mayor did not answer, and Vass did not answer, because something smacked against the side of the railcar. The Mayor moved a red curtain away from one long window. Lantern light from inside the car illuminated the curved brick of the tunnel outside.

Birds flew through the tunnel, surrounding them, overtaking them. Pigeon wings knocked against the window’s glass.

The Mayor looked annoyed. Vass looked terrified. Her eyes were wide circles. “It’s her,” she said. “She’s coming for us. She won’t let us get across.”

“It’s only birds,” said the Mayor. But pigeons flew by in dozens and droves now. The railcar shuddered as they threw themselves between the wheels and the track.

Rownie should have been scared. He wasn’t. He stopped thinking about the birds, because the crowned mask of Northside had slipped from the lead actor’s face. That face was as familiar to Rownie as any could be.

The railcar shook and slid to a halt. The lights inside sputtered and went out.

“Rowan?” Rownie asked in the dark.

Act III, Scene VII

THE MAYOR SHOUTED SOMETHING. Rownie heard him, but he did not listen, and he did not notice what the Mayor said.

Vass chanted. A single lantern bloomed on the wall. She took it down. The Mayor gave orders to the Guard Captain, who drew his sword and used it to shatter a window. Rownie ignored them all. He stared at Rowan. Rowan stared at nothing. The loose strap of the mask was down around his neck. The mask itself sat empty over his chest. The play had been interrupted, and now none of the three players moved.

The Mayor put a chair under the broken window and ordered the Captain through. The Captain climbed through. He pulled Rownie behind him.

Rownie fought. He yelled. He put everything he had, and everything he had ever had, into pulling in the opposite direction. He shouted his brother’s name, which was his own name made tall, and Rowan went on staring at nothing in a calm and empty sort of way. Rownie went on fighting, but it did not matter. The sleeve of his dust-colored coat ripped as the Guard Captain pulled him through the empty space where the window used to be, out into the tunnel. The ground underfoot was thick with dead birds.