"It moves, under, it is, they are, the Teshi, are," said Qurabin. The monk’s voice scuttered around. They were all there-Drogon and Elsie, Qurabin, Cutter, Judah and Toro. Rahul kept watch. They had mourned Maribet. Qurabin was anxious.

"Something happens very soon," the monk said.

In his strange and strangely broken voice Ori told them the history of his relations with the mysterious tramp: the money, the heliotype of Jack Half-a-Prayer. The help he had given Toro. "I don’t know where the plans come from," Ori said. "Jacobs? No, no it was Toro’s plan, I know that, because it wasn’t the plan I thought it was. But it did the job. But Jacobs said, when I saw him… I don’t think it mattered much to him at all. He’s had other things on his mind. This was just… a distraction."

They had promised they would wait for Curdin and for Madeleina, hoping for help. That morning, Judah had begged them to persuade the delegates to aid them, but what could they do? The militia were eating their territory house by broken-down house: there were rumours of punitive revenges against Collectivists in recaptured streets. "We have no one to give, Judah," Curdin had said.

They returned late.

"Came as soon as we could. It was hard," Curdin said. "Hello Jack," he said to Ori.

"We lost Howl Barrow today," said Madeleina.

She was hard; they both were hard. She was trying not to fall to her despair.

"It was something," Curdin said. "They lasted two days longer than they should have done. The militia came down over Barrow Bridge, and there was all the barricadistes, and out of nowhere come the Pretty Brigade. And they was magnificent. " He shouted this suddenly and blinked. In the quiet after the word they heard bombs, at the battlefronts.

"A liability? They were lions. They came in formation, firing, in their dresses." He laughed with a moment’s genuine pleasure. "They kept up the attack, they lobbed their grenades. Run forward skirts flapping, all lipstick and blackpowder, sending militia to hell. Hadn’t eaten anything but stale bread and rat meat for days, and they fought like gladiators in Shankell. It took the motorguns to cut them down. And they went shouting and kissing each other." He blinked again many times.

"But they couldn’t hold it off. The Nuevists died. Petron and the others. The militia went in. There was street-fighting, but Howl Barrow’s gone. Got the last globe today." Howl Barrow had released sealed glass floats to drift down the River Tar, past Strack Island, till the Collective’s bargers and mudlarks fished them and broke them to get the messages out.

"I tried, Judah, honestly, though your plan’s madness. But there’s no one spare. Everyone’s protecting the Collective. I don’t blame them, and I’m going to join them. We’ve a couple of weeks left, no more."