After a twisting journey, ducking out of sight of patrols and glancing up at the glowering glass sky, they halted before a clutch of dark buildings, at the intersection of two deserted streets. Yagharek waited until they were all close enough to hear him, before turning and gesturing.

“From that top window there,” he said.

The swooping dome bore down inexorably on the tail of the terrace, destroying the rooftops and reducing the mass of the street’s houses to ever-more-squat piles of rubble. But Yagharek was pointing at the end furthest from the wall, where the buildings were mostly intact.

The three floors below the attic were occupied. Glimmers of light spilt from the edges of curtains.

Yagharek ducked back around the edge of a little alley and pulled the others in after him. Way off to the north, they could still hear the consternated shouting from the confused patrols, desperate to decide what to do.

“Even if it wasn’t too risky to get the cactacae on our side,” hissed Isaac, “we’d be fucked if we tried to get them to help us now. They’re in a damn frenzy. One sniff of us and they’ll go berserk, hack us up with those rivebows faster’n you can say ‘knife.’ “

“We must go past the rooms where the cactus people sleep,” said Yagharek. “We must get to the top of the house. We must find where the slake-moths come from.”

“Tansell, Penge,” said Shadrach decisively, “you watch the door.” They looked at him for a moment, then both nodded. “Prof? I reckon you’d best come in with me. And these constructs . . . you think they’ll be helpful, yes?”

“I think they’ll be damn well essential,” said Isaac. “But listen . . . I think the . . . I think there’s a Weaver here.”

Everyone stared at him.

Derkhan and Lemuel looked incredulous. The adventurers were quite impassive.

“What makes you say that, prof?” asked Pengefinchess mildly.

“I . . . I could sort of . . . sense it. We’ve dealt with it before. It said it might see us again . . .”

Pengefinchess glanced at Tansell and Shadrach. Derkhan spoke hurriedly.

“It’s true,” she said. “Ask Pigeon. He saw the thing.” Reluctantly, Lemuel nodded that yes, he had.

“But there’s not much we can do about it,” he said. “We can’t control the bugger, and if he comes for us or them, we’re pretty much at the mercy of events. He might do nothing. You said it yourself, ’Zaac: he’ll do whatever he wants.”

“So,” said Shadrach slowly, “we’re still going in. Any arguments?” There were none. “Right. You, garuda. You’ve seen them. You saw where they came from. You should come. So it’s me, the prof, the bird-man and the constructs. The rest of you stay here, and do exactly what Tansell and Penge tell you. Understood?”