It had been two weeks since Han brought the amulet home, and their lives had settled into a different cadence. Mam had a new job in the laundry at Fellsmarch Castle. It was reliable money, but she had to leave long before dawn to walk the length of the town across multiple bridges to get there. She never got home before dark, either, so they were on their own for supper. But at least there was supper to be had.

It had become Han’s job to take Mari to and from school, which made it hard for him to work his route for Lucius. Once or twice he’d taken her with him on his rounds. Today he meant to leave off Mari, stop in at The Keg and Crown and several other Southbridge taverns, and get to and from Lucius’s place before Mari was done at school. It was a risk—the Southies might be laying for him, but it had to be done.

Han dampened a rag in the basin to scrub off Mari’s face, so the speakers at the temple wouldn’t think she was neglected. He couldn’t do much about her clothes, but she wasn’t the only one who shopped from the rag bin.

“Let’s go.”

It was still dark in the narrow streets and alleyways of Ragmarket. It had rained hard overnight—Han had awoken to water dripping on his face through the leaking roof. There were puddles everywhere and the gutters ran full, but the rain had diminished to an irritating drizzle. Han pulled Mari under the shelter of his too-large coat, and they staggered along like some poorly designed four-legged animal.

“I don’t see why it has to be so early,” Mari said. “They’ve got the whole day to have school.”

Han pulled her out of the way of a bakery cart that splashed muddy water up to their knees. “This way the ’prentices can get schooling and still get to work,” he said.

Southbridge Temple anchored the far end of South Bridge. Han often thought that whoever built Fellsmarch Castle might’ve had a hand in Southbridge Temple. Its soaring towers pricked the sky and reminded a person that there was a world beyond Ragmarket and Southbridge, even if you couldn’t get to it.

The stone facing around the door was carved with leaves and vines and flowers. Gargoyles launched themselves from every side of the building, and the downspouts were capped with fantastical creatures that must’ve died in the Breaking, because you never saw them these days.

The temple close housed libraries and dormitories for the dedicates—gardens and kitchens as well. It was by no means a cloister, however, since it welcomed in the citizens of the surrounding neighborhoods, feeding their minds along with their bodies.