“Just answering some questions.” His voice wavers a bit, and even from here I can see the Master’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What kind of rumors?” I ask, my voice low and urgent. The Master starts to head in our direction.

The apprentice shifts his weight. “Some said that Master Rayna was doing work in a shadow market near the Mandible District.”

“Thank you,” I say, just as the Master reaches us.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“We were just asking a few questions about Rayna Roe,” Niklas says.

The Master’s face goes ashen. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourselves into?”

Suddenly I’m certain that Rayna Roe is not a captured criminal. No one can act this convincingly. Latham and Norah sent us after a Bone Handler who hasn’t been apprehended yet.

Another apprentice hurries over and tugs on the Master’s sleeve. “Have you seen the neutralizing powder? We just had an acid spill and it’s eating through the floor.”

The Master groans. Then he points a bony finger at us. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Wait right here.”

But we don’t. The moment he looks away, we run.

The Mandible District is on the outskirts of Kastelia City in the opposite direction of the bone house. We walk all day, chasing the sun as it moves lower and lower in the sky before it finally sinks below the horizon. The gas lamps that line the street grow farther and farther apart until they disappear altogether. Gradually, the broad streets transform into narrow, crooked alleys. Stray dogs rummage through trash heaps, their ribs clearly visible under patchy fur. And then a dog walks by with no fur at all. No skin. No eyes. Just an animated skeleton that is clearly the result of dark magic. I resist the urge to gag.

We pass a gambling den where patrons toss dice made of bone. Dice that have the power to reward or punish bets on the spot—winners receive the prize of pleasure; losers pay with pain. Through the window we can see a woman sitting with a crowd at a round table, a pair of dice sitting near her clenched fist. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. I’m not sure if she won or lost.

A man stumbles out of a building, clutching a drink in his hand that sloshes over his shoes.

A well-dressed woman walks by with a tiny whistle dangling from her bright red lips like a cigar.

Another storefront with darkened windows has a Breaker guarding the door. I make eye contact and he tosses a set of cervical vertebrae in the air, catches them, and rolls them over his knuckles like he’s performing a magic trick instead of issuing a threat.

“I hate this,” Tessa whispers.

“Just keep your head down and keep moving,” Bram says.