Pa nodded and made a show of reaching for his other hip, where the buckle sat. The half sword hit the mud, sending a cloud of bloodflies into the air.

The skinwitch called Inge chortled behind Pa. “All that’s good for is mercy, to be sure.”

“The purse.” The guard jerked his spear at Pa.

Pa untied his purse and tossed it to the Hawk. The Hawk dumped it onto the wagon’s driver’s seat and slid coins around until he was satisfied. “Your change is on the seat,” he laughed, and nodded to the skinwitches. “Go ahead, Inge.”

The skinwitches seized Pa and Hangdog, fish-flesh fingers pale against their bare arms. Inge’s and Treggor’s eyes squeezed shut a moment.

“Move,” Fie whispered, and crawled for the gate.

Inge’s gray eyes cracked open. She let go of Pa and spat to the side. Her spittle landed on Fie’s sleeveless arm.

Fie gagged in disgust, and the Sparrow teeth slid out of tune for a terrible instant. She yanked them back into harmony, swearing a silent litany, and froze in place.

Inge straightened up, her beacon-like gaze drifting in Fie’s wake. “Treggor?”

The other Vulture blinked. “Aye?”

Harmony, Fie prayed into the reeking muck, wringing the twin Sparrow teeth for everything they were worth. Harmony.

Inge squinted around, then slumped back. “Nothing.”

When she turned to Pa, Fie whispered, “Move.”

She reckoned that when the prince had thought to come to Crows for help, he hadn’t banked on crawling through the lowest gate of Cheparok on his hands and knees.

“Their witch-signs are good,” Inge croaked behind them, tweaking a fold of her yellow robe. “Ken me, you two. You’re marked men. Any spells you use now can and will be traced to you. We take the tag off when you leave the city.”

“So don’t make trouble,” the female Hawk sneered. “And don’t stay long.”

She jabbed her spear toward the gate just as Fie and the boys ducked round the corner.

Pa retrieved his blade, climbed back into the wagon, and smacked the reins without a word. The oxen lurched forward. Fie and the lordlings fell in with the Crows once they passed the gate, not chancing a look behind them. Nor did Fie chance dropping her stranglehold on the Sparrow teeth.

The wagon creaked into the lowest ring of Cheparok. The city rose above them in circular tiers, each smaller and higher than the last. Buildings lining the mud street down here were little better than walls of lumpy baked plaster and woven palm screens, most clustered near a dirty canal that curved down the road until it bent out of view. Pa followed that canal, then turned a corner, then another, until they’d slipped into a narrow alley away from the busy street.

“You’re clear, Fie. Well done.”