“We are staying with some people. A man and his wife. We met them by chance. You can trust them.” A beat, a twitch of the mouth. “If we can trust you, Mother.”

“But of course. I swore it, did I not?” Lady Naylor looks at Livia in pleasure. “These people you met — they are poor?”

“Yes, very.”

“Good. Then we can pay them. Tell us the way.”

ф

When they pull up at a corner not far from Grendel’s house, Thomas is still trying to figure it out. They set off that evening to spy on an enemy. Now they are leading her home: the only place in the world where, for the moment, they have reason to consider themselves safe. And so, in the course of a few hours they appear to have changed sides. There wasn’t even a great deal of talk to it. All Lady Naylor has told them is that she bears them no ill will. She is fighting the Smoke. And has kidnapped a child, with the help of a stranger with doe-like eyes.

It is not much to build one’s faith on.

And yet: here they are, abusing the trust of a man who suffers from kindness as though from the flu. They wait until the coach has disappeared out of sight, then rush through the dark streets, Sebastian carrying the child wrapped in his coat and slung over one shoulder. The child is unnaturally still. Drugged, Thomas surmises. Their new friends are not picky about their methods.

For all that it is a relief to step into the little courtyard behind the house’s burnt front and ascend the narrow staircase to the top floor. Livia looks tense when she knocks on the door. Perhaps she regrets her eagerness to volunteer a hideaway. Neither she nor Thomas have mentioned Grendel’s condition. If he is found out — well, what then? Thomas still has not decided whether he pities the man or admires him. Grendel is an ox in a world of irate bulls: a kind creature, given to melancholy, and fond of his food. If Lady Naylor’s future is to be a world of Grendels, Thomas can think of worse.

It is their host himself who opens the door. He sees Livia first, gets excited, flaps his hands, almost extinguishing the stub of candle he is holding.

“You are back! Come quick. You will never believe—”

Then he spies Sebastian and Lady Naylor in the dim of the stairwell.

“Friends of yours?” A step backward as he says it. Behind Grendel, someone else is rushing to the door.

“My mother,” Livia replies. “I’m afraid we will have to impose.”