The Mayor chose that moment to speak up in an affronted and important-sounding voice. “Do not refer to me as though I were not here, witchworker.”

Graba smiled. She looked delighted. She looked as though she had just crunched her teeth down on the tastiest egg imaginable.

“The Mayor is not here,” Graba told Vass. “I would hurt him if he were here—and then he would never make good on his bright promises to you. This is my gift, and it will be my last one. To enjoy it, you should be running. The whole of this tunnel will fill up with floodwater, and very soon. The floods are coming. They are coming today.”

Graba leaned forward and squinted hard with her squinty eye. “You should tell his mayorship that even if the River wipes Southside as clean as an uncarved gravestone, I will still make sure and certain he never, ever rebuilds it to his liking. Southside is mine. Tell him I said so, now. I would tell him myself, but he is not here. I would hurt him very much if he were here. I would set beautiful curses on him.”

The Mayor sputtered in his outrage. Vass put the lit lantern in his hand. “Please start running, sir,” she said. “You aren’t here. You shouldn’t be here.” He sputtered further. Then he turned and ran away northward, into the dark of the tunnel.

Vass paused. She looked at Rownie. Rownie wasn’t sure what she meant by that look. Then Vass helped the Guard Captain to his feet, and the two of them followed the Mayor. All three vanished down the tunnel’s throat.

Rownie remained in the dark, with Graba. He tried to remember how to breathe.

Act III, Scene VIII

GRABA SPOKE IN A VERY LOW CHANT. The brick and stone of the tunnel’s wall began to glow green, like the color of young burnbugs. In that green glow she looked down at Rownie as though examining a piece of market fruit for fungus and rot. She smelled familiar, a musty and feathery smell.

“You have a message for me, runt?” she asked. The air between them stretched as tight and tense as fiddle strings.

Rownie felt fear, bone-deep and burning. He did not run. He knew that there could be no running from Graba, with no hiding places in the tunnel and her long legs striding easily behind him. He showed Graba that he would not run, and he gave his message.

“I wanted your help to find Rowan,” he said, “but then I found him. He’s in the railcar. He didn’t move, and he didn’t know me when I shouted. He just stood there, all empty-looking, and I don’t know what’s wrong. Please help him. I’ll come back with you. I’ll be your grandchild again.”

He tried to stand like a giant.