‘Then I think we need a new plan, don’t you?’ He paused, trying to think, feeling the screaming ache of his muscles, listening to the slosh and tumble of water around the reeking caves. He turned to the artificer. ‘There were quench tanks in the workshops. Does the city’s water come straight up from here, or are there places it rests?’

The artificer blinked in the gloom. ‘Reservoirs, yes. When wind weak, less water comes.’

‘Can we get to any from here?’

Lemon was frowning. ‘What are you thinking, wee bear …? That we … oho, I like where this is going!’

The artificer looked from one to the other, her face blank. ‘Yes, large beneath the workshops.’ She gestured upwards. ‘Above our heads.’

‘And does it have any sort of tap or drain?’

Now she understood. Her face went pale in the gloom, hands already raised and warding. ‘No, no, very bad. Very bad!’

‘All we need is enough to send them packing, flush them out, drench their gear. We just need to buy time before we can get reinforcements down here.’

The hunched little woman cast her gaze around, wild and panicked. ‘Water in caves, very bad! Damage machinery, pumps, flood caves – kill worms!’

‘Worms?’ Lemon looked at Chel and Foss. ‘What’s she talking about?’

‘The glow, friend.’ Foss gestured to the cool light of the dangling bead-strings overhead. ‘This is where all the silk comes from.’

‘Ooh. Eerie.’

‘Listen,’ Chel turned back to the artificer, ‘if we don’t do something, those bastards are going to come at us, through us, and they’re going to take the city. A bit of water damage seems a small price to pay to prevent that, right?’ The woman stared at him, rigid, her head shaking back and forth. He felt anger flaring. ‘Then you have a better idea, right? Anything?’

Still her head shook, and Chel pursed his lips. Too much of his body hurt for this. The sounds of armed men echoed down the passageway, growing suddenly louder.

‘Lemon, reckon you can find this reservoir?’

The Clyde hefted her axe. ‘Oh, aye, you try and stop me.’

***

Despite the artificer’s protestations, the clacking of the remaining water-pumps led them to their quarry. A miniature indoor lake, dark and placid, the termination of half a dozen of the pumps. Other water chains and pumps rose from its surface, carrying water up into the city wherever it was needed. Chel marvelled at the ingenuity, then set about finding some way to drain it.

Lemon found a series of grates cut into the stone, beneath them a narrow passage of sorts, a thin trickle of water running along its floor. She called for help, and between them Foss and Chel managed to lift one of the grates. Lemon dropped inside, then called a moment later. She’d found the sluice gates.