“Don’t be an idiot, ’Zaac,” she said, sounding exhausted. “We can’t afford to get separated. Lemuel knows the sewers . . . they’re dangerous. He told us to stay put. There’s all manner of things down here . . . ghuls, trows, gods know what. That’s why I stayed with you while you were out. We have to wait for them here.

“And besides which, you’re probably the most wanted person in New Crobuzon right now. Lemuel’s a successful criminal: he knows how not to be seen. He’s at much less risk than you.”

“But what about Yag?” howled Isaac.

“Lemuel gave him his cloak. With the hood up and that dress torn up and wrapped round his feet, he just looked like a weird old man. Isaac, they’ll be back soon. We have to wait for them. We have to make plans. And you have to listen.” He looked up at her, concerned at her miserable tone.

“Why’s it taken us here, ’Zaac?” she said. Her face creased in pain. “Why did it hurt us, why did it dress us like this . . . ? Why didn’t it heal me . . . ?” She wiped tears of pain away angrily.

“Derkhan,” Isaac said gently. “I could never know . . .”

“You should see this,” she said, sniffing quickly. She handed him a crumpled and stinking sheet of newspaper. He took it slowly, his face curling with distaste as he touched the sodden, filthy thing.

“What is it?” he said, unfolding it.

“When we woke up, all disorientated and confused, it came bobbing down one of the little tunnels there, folded into a little boat.” She looked at him askance. “It was coming against the current. We fished it out.”

Isaac opened it out and looked at it. It was the centre pages from The Digest, one of New Crobuzon’s weekly papers. He saw from the date at the top of the page—9th Tathis 1779—that it had come out that same morning.

Isaac scanned his eyes over the little collection of stories. He shook his head in incomprehension.

“What am I missing?” he asked.

“Look at the letters to the editor,” said Derkhan.

He turned the sheet over. There it was, second letter down. It was written in the same formal, stilted fashion as the others, but its content was wildly different.

Isaac’s eyes widened as he read.

Sirs and Madam—

Please accept my compliments on your exquisite tapestry skills. For the furtherment of your craftwork I have taken it upon myself to extricate you from an unfortunate situation. My efforts are urgently required elsewhere and I am unable to accompany you. Doubtless we will meet again before much time has elapsed. In the meantime please note that he of your number whose inadvertent animal husbandry has led to the city’s present unfortunate predicament may find himself the victim of unwanted attentions from his escaped charge.