He was not as good at this as Rebecca, who could, by all accounts, steal a man’s peg leg without him noticing, but the press worked to his advantage. His fingertips brushed the wallet’s ancient leather. It helped that he had handled this pouch hundreds of times. He knew its weight without testing. He teased it up and out.

The officer turned and frowned at him. Jean-Claude palmed the wallet and kept going, expecting the merciless lash of a bloodshadow. He brushed between two aeronauts and joined the general flow. No shouts of outrage followed him. Gangs of aeronauts continued to ascend.

Heart thudding with the awful thrill of escape, Jean-Claude squeaked out of the queue and hustled to the manger. With the crew distracted, this would be their best chance to sneak away through the turvy hatches … but what about Dok? It was maddening to think that the Windcaller could be within reach, but he could do nothing to snatch the man back.

Yes, his first priority must be escape, to get back to Isabelle, to warn her and Impervia about this treasonous conspiracy, but that was simply shifting the problem to their shoulders.

He hustled into the Seelenjäger’s pen and fished out the chisel and hammer. The Seelenjäger squealed and backed into the corner. He cast Jean-Claude a look of betrayal.

Jean-Claude put the implements on the floor. Travers’s butchers must have used such tools on the Seelenjäger before, chisels to crack off ribs for consumption. Jean-Claude raised empty hands in a mollifying gesture. He pinched his nose and then pantomimed striking the ring with the chisel.

After several more calming gestures, the Seelenjäger finally lay his head down on the deck, his nose ring touching the boards. Jean-Claude placed the edge of the chisel against the ring and hefted the hammer. The pig closed his eyes and whimpered.

“Hey, waster. What are you doing there?” shouted the marine sergeant who appeared that moment at the pen’s gate.

Jean-Claude slammed the chisel with the hammer. The blow jolted up his arm like a tree being hit by lightning. The iron ring split. The sergeant drew his sword and blew his whistle. Jean-Claude reset the chisel halfway round the ring and struck again, cleaving the wicked device in two. He yanked the ring from the Seelenjäger’s nose. The Seelenjäger squealed in pain and huddled in the corner, shrieking in fright.

The sergeant threw open the gate. “Down on your face! Now.”

Jean-Claude twisted as hard as he could and hurled the hammer. It caught the sergeant square on the chin and staggered him.

Jean-Claude plunged after him, bellowing a wordless war cry. A gang of marines rushed into the manger.