“You found him!” Rosheen breathed a sigh of relief and flew over to meet them.

Sir Corc nodded once, then glanced around the green, frowning. “Where is Muckle?”

The piskie cast a disgusted look into a grouping of ferns, just as the ferns said, “Right here” and shook slightly.

“Make haste,” Sir Corc snapped.

“These processes should not be rushed,” the ferns answered.

Sir Corc turned away and looked down at Pocket. “Backbone is your charge. Need I remind you?”

Pocket shook his head and rushed over to grab the mule’s guide rope.

“Good,” Sir Corc continued. “We go to the chandler’s under Ten Ferries Bridge. Do you remember the place?”

“Yes,” Pocket said assuredly.

“If we should become separated that is where you must go. The proprietor will know what to do.”

Muckle emerged from the foliage still belting his patchwork breeches under his gut. “The greens keeper should thank me,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “My fertilizer is much prized. Tomorrow those ferns will reach the roofs.”

Pocket stifled a laugh as Rosheen wrinkled her nose.

“We move,” Sir Corc ordered. “I will lead. Muckle, rear guard.”

“I can--” Flyn began, but Sir Corc was already heading out of the green.

Muckle shouldered his huge, garish club and winked at Pocket before urging him out with a wave of his hand. Backbone plodded somberly along, the clopping of his hooves on the cobblestones alarmingly loud in the quiet city. Sir Corc did not waste time with stealth. He made straight for the River Poddle at a quick pace, using the widest lanes. As they drew closer to the river, Pocket saw that the fiery glow in the sky had intensified, covering more of the skyline than before. People began appearing in the street ahead of them, passing them by in their nightclothes or bearing armloads of goods. Mothers dragged children by the hand and men pulled carts, all of them heading away from the river. Some stopped and urged Sir Corc to turn around and flee, but the knight ignored them, pressing his way forward against the tide of frightened humanity. A watchman came running by and Sir Corc grabbed him by the arm, wrenching him to a halt.

“Have the Middangearders pushed Sweynside?” he demanded.

“No,” the watchman answered hurriedly. “We hold the bridges, for now. I am to fetch men from the walls to reinforce us.”

“No!” Sir Corc snapped. “This is all a diversion. The Red Caps will assail the walls as soon as they weaken!”

The man struggled against the coburn’s grasp. “I have my orders!”

“Do not be a fool!”