“Good. We still have the girl as leverage, which should keep them quiet until our plans are accomplished. Leave me.”

Salix knew that Grasp liked his minions to walk backward out of his office in some kind of pathetic deference. He did the opposite, swiftly turning and walking to the door. To slam or not to slam, that was the question. He decided that leaving the door slightly ajar was a small victory, especially when he heard Grasp heave himself up a few seconds later and stomp toward the door, swearing loudly.

“Buddy draft! Buddy incompetent nincompoops with squit for brains!” The slam, when it came, was particularly loud. Much as Grasp loathed his underlings, they were necessary for the dirty work of politics. Insolence would never result in getting the sack and Salix knew it as he whistled cheerfully all the way downstairs.

Three floors below, in a cell lined with planks and riveted with iron, Mucum paced up and down like a caged dog. His ribs ached and the point where Petronio’s punch had driven home felt like one big bruise. The night before, the guard had given him a helpful shove.

“Welcome to your new home!” he’d said. “Oh, and would sir like a snack before bed?” Salix had paused briefly, savoring the moment, while not waiting for the answer. “Well, tough luck!” The door had slammed, and the massive key scraped around the lock, leaving Mucum to both the dark and hours of sleepless regret.

If only he’d stopped Ark from leaving the Rootshooters’ station. It was all his fault! And now his best mate was dead, ripped apart by the ravens. Suddenly, he missed his dad. The old geezer wasn’t too bad, really, and he must have been tearing his hair out, wondering where his lad had got to. There would be tears at some point, but for now he was only focused on what lay in front of him. He knew his own chances weren’t looking too good, either. At least he wasn’t alone.

A high-pitched squeal brought him back to the present.

“It’s an upside-down lady with funny eyes!”

Mucum lay on the excuse for a mattress, trying to get some sleep. He huddled farther into the corner, trying to escape the slicing wind that came through the gaps in the walls. “What are you on about, Shiv?” He’d never understand the minds of little kids. They were truly a few planks short of a cupboard.

“Upside down!” Ark’s sister insisted.

“Yeah, right!” Mucum was surprised they’d stuck him in with her. For much of the night before, she’d sobbed her tiny heart out and for a while, as he tried to calm her down with a good cuddle, he had forgotten about his own problems. Instead, he thought about his earliest memory, being held in his mother’s arms. Those days were long gone.