The key began to turn. No! Ark fumbled with his belt, trying to undo the buckle, his fingers slipping in panic as his legs wiggled free beneath him like worms.

The door swung open to reveal not just the two soldiers but an overweight figure dressed in gaudy colors like a bloated parrot. The man whose voice he’d heard plotting treachery only the day before. Grasp! And on either side of the Councillor, two guards whose faces he knew only too well.

“What?” Salix’s eyes almost popped out. “But you’re dead!”

Ark would be if he didn’t get a move on.

Alnus instinctively rubbed his head where a nice lump had formed thanks to the application of a certain wrench belonging to the very much alive boy in front of him. “Why, you little …!” The fruity insult was lost under the sound of Salix’s hobnailed boots pounding toward the center of the room, his whole body eager to rip the little spy into even littler pieces. But just as his meaty fingers reached forward to pull Ark out like a snail from its shell, the belt finally gave way. With a slurping sound and a wail of fear, Ark slipped suddenly from sight.

Salix leaned over the edge and peered into the darkness, trying not to breathe the stench in through his nose, shaking his fists in frustration. The boy had got away, again, down a hole that no grown-up ever had a chance of entering.

Grasp was beside himself. “Twice you’ve lost him! What do I pay you for?” he fumed. “Find out where the soil pipe leads, you fools. Get some men and search the sewers.” He turned to the soldiers as Salix and Alnus ran down the corridor. “And as for you two, if you value your livelihoods and reputations, don’t, I repeat, don’t,” he snarled, “disturb the King with the news that you very nearly allowed him to be assassinated! Get back to your station outside the doors and do what you’re supposed to do. GUARD THEM!” he screamed. “We shall deal with the would-be killer and let His Majesty focus his great mind on more important matters.”

Both soldiers stood at attention. “Yes, sir! Whatever you say, sir!”

“I do say. Now leave me. Your incompetence has made me weary.”

The soldiers marched away, glad they would still have wages at the end of the week. But Grasp was worried. Could a mere boy come between him and power? Of course not. There were only so many places a sewer could lead. His men would not, could not, fail.