The alley was narrow, so narrow that they were forced to go in single file, and Bluma was stopping up their progress.

Yehuda Leib lifted a finger to his lips and frantically waved her forward.

Cursing rang out in the street, and then angry voices.

“Where is he?”

“Little bastard.”

“Shut up! Keep moving!”

Bluma had nearly made it to the end of the alley when the soldiers clattered by in the street, and their racket was just beginning to fade away into the snowy distance when Bluma’s sharp scream split the air.

A man had loomed up at the end of the alley, blocking the way.

Bluma stumbled backward, hand clapped over her mortified mouth, and sure enough, out in the street behind them, they heard a soldier call out:

“What was that?”

The man at the end of the alley staggered forward with a growl.

They were trapped.

“What are you waiting for?” hissed Mammon from his pram. “Pay the man!”

Bluma’s face crinkled in fear and confusion. “Who is that?” she whispered.

Yehuda Leib shook his head impatiently. “Lord Mammon the Avaricious,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What?” said Bluma.

“I’ll explain later.”

Again, the man at the end of the alleyway moaned. He smelled terrible.

“What do we do?” said Bluma.

“This way!” called the voices in the street, and the clattering footsteps began to grow louder again.

“I told you!” said Mammon. “Pay him!”

It was in this moment that Yehuda Leib identified the stench of the man at the end of the alleyway. It was Mottke the drunken ferryman. From back home. From Tupik.

“Mottke?” he said.

And Bluma stifled a little gasp. “How did you get here, Mottke?”

Mottke made a noise that might’ve been an explanation or an extended throat clearing.

“There’s no time for this,” said Mammon. “Pay him so we can pass.”

And as if in agreement, Mottke held out an open palm.

“I don’t have any money!” said Bluma.

“What?” said Yehuda Leib. “Well, neither do I!”

This, of course, was not true: deep in Yehuda Leib’s pocket, entirely forgotten to him, was a strange coin given to him by a dark stranger at the beginning and the end of a journey.

“Oh, splendid,” said Mammon.

The feet in the road were drawing very near now.

“What about you?” said Yehuda Leib to Mammon. “Surely you’ve got something.”

“Not here,” said Mammon. “And he won’t defer payment.”

Three shadowy figures ran past the alley entrance, but one turned and came back.

Yehuda Leib’s mind was racing.

“Hey!” called the soldier in the street. “Hey, over here!”

He was too wide to fit down the narrow alleyway head-on, but, turning sideways, he reached his thick fingers out and began to shimmy forward.

Ahead, an open palm; behind, reaching fingers.

“Mottke,” said Yehuda Leib in a panic. “Mottke, we’re from Tupik.”

“Toopiggh?” said Mottke.