“You’re too tense,” Finn muttered.

I shrugged and loosened my neck. Inside one of the buildings, an argument broke out. Shouting was followed by a thud and the shatter of glass. In no hurry, a bearded man got up from the street corner and moved to investigate.

“She stands out,” Millie whispered to Finn. “We all do.”

“Can’t be helped. We must be nearly there, right?”

“The directions were vague, but I think so.”

There were no street names in this part of the city, and shoddy alterations to older buildings sloped out into the roads, blocking passage or forcing pedestrians to squeeze between mud and wormwood walls, slanted roofs patched with posterboard and glue.

“Ah,” said Millie. “That’s the place.”

The hostel was a triple-storey edifice propped up against the city wall. The foundations had sunk, and jagged cracks ran up the brickwork. The left side was rough-plastered, the right raw brick and lime, like a creature half skinned.

“There should be a shaft below the floor of one of the back rooms,” said Millie. “It comes out in the Fields.”

“And no one will object to us using it?” I asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” She glanced at me askance. “But you could convince them, if the need arose. Right?”

I nodded.

Finn seemed distracted; he kept turning to look at the street behind us, frowning. Millie nudged him and he started.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His expression cleared. “Yeah, sorry. There’s a lot going on around here, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe stop eavesdropping, then. Come on.”

Millie entered the hostel first, and I followed. The interior smelled musty, and the floorboards creaked beneath my feet. A sullen teenage boy sat on the edge of a rutted bench beside a splinterboard door. He scowled at us.

“What d’you want?” he asked.

“For you to mind your own business.” Millie flipped a coin at him. He caught it out of the air.

“I’ve never seen any of you before,” he said, casting a dubious eye over Finn. He stuck a thumb toward the splinterboard door. “Still, it’s nothing to me. That way.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He gave me an odd, appraising look, and I regretted having spoken. Millie stared at him, her face hard.

“Millie?” Finn muttered.

“Hm.” She reached into her pocket and flipped the boy another coin. “For your trouble.”

The door stuck, and the hinges groaned when it swung open. The corridor beyond was dim; dark mildew stained the walls and shifted in the unsteady lantern light. From the upper floor, people’s footfalls sounded loud and heavy.

Finn touched the small of my back, and I jumped. His expression was troubled.

“What?” I murmured.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

“Room eight. There’s supposed to be a hatch set into the floor.” Millie hurried ahead of us down the passage, scanning the brass plates above the doors. “It’s probably concealed, in case the Order ever came knocking, but I can’t think it’ll be too hard to access.”