Joe crept across the street, listening hard. He stared between a crack in the shutters, but saw only a jumble of bodies, nothing clear. He looked up, searching for some­thing to climb to get a better view, but the wall was smooth and high. Above him, a few stars were caught in a net of white cloud.

He strained to hear. There was loud cheering. There must be dozens of people in there.

‘You look hungry. Drowned rat ain’t the half of it.’

Joe spun round, finding himself face to face with a short burly man. He was standing like a soldier on the balls of his feet, holding a sword as if it weighed no more than a spoon.

‘Yes, I mean, no, I mean … what do you mean?’ Joe 55babbled. He swayed, suddenly light-headed, shaking hard with cold.

‘Steady on, lad,’ the man said, holding him up with his free hand, smiling now. ‘No need to panic.’ He had receding white hair in two stripes either side of his scalp, making him look like a kindly badger. ‘Anyone can see you need hot food and somewhere to dry off. Come on, with me.’ He sheathed his sword and gestured for Joe to follow.

‘Why? What is this place?’ Joe remembered stories of young men being drugged, then forced onto ships to work as sailors. Hadn’t he wanted that, to leave the island? Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

Before the man could answer him, someone stuck his head out of the window next to them, calling, ‘Any stragglers, Yannic? Come on in, we’re about to start.’ This man’s face loomed over them. He had short hair, silver in the moon­light, hollow stubbled cheeks, and a curving boat-shaped scar under one eye.

‘Coming, Asa!’ Yannic replied, steering Joe towards the double doors of the building. ‘Come eat with us, and welcome. Our doors are always open to friends …’

He went to the door and knocked, three times, in a slow-quick-quick rhythm. With a squeak of rusty hinges, it opened up, letting out a warm flood of lamplight and the delicious savoury aroma of hot food. The man vanished inside.

The door started to close. Joe had to decide before it slammed in his face. His stomach grumbled painfully, making his decision for him. ‘Wait!’ he called. ‘I’m coming too.’ He’d worry about everything else when he’d eaten. 56

He went through the doors, finding himself in a small lobby with bare wooden boards and a staircase winding up to the left. There were two strangers studying him suspi­ciously, standing guard in front of large doors with ornate brass handles.

‘Armed?’ one demanded, patting Joe down roughly.

‘Just this.’ Joe took out the dragon-handled knife that Conor had given him on his birthday. He felt a sudden pang for everything he’d lost since yesterday morning.

The shorter man took it, adding it to the deep shelves under the stairs, which were filled with an alarming assort­ment of weapons.

‘Don’t look so worried, lad.’ The other guard clapped him on the back, hard. ‘We don’t bite.’ He pushed him towards the double doors. ‘Not yet, anyway.’