By the time he’d made it into Hall QA, Yehuda Leib had broken into a flat-out run. The tall man ahead of him had too, increasing the gap between them with every stride of his long legs, and if he didn’t do something soon, Yehuda Leib would lose him.

“Hey!” he cried, his voice echoing wildly into the stacks.

Hey! came the echo.

He tore into Hall QB, feet clattering hard on the floor, and found himself immediately confused.

He slowed and stopped.

There was no one ahead of him.

The central aisle was completely empty.

What had happened? Where had the man gone?

His footfalls were still echoing loudly as he murmured, “Hello?”

But there was no answer.

Then, turning back the way he had come, he saw them:

Two ranks of Dumah’s dead soldiers, piling out of the rows of bookcases nearest the door.

Yehuda Leib sighed. Of course. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

Someone was clearing his throat behind him, and Yehuda Leib turned to see the familiar shape of a tall, skeletal man in a long black coat emerging from the stacks just a few rows ahead of him.

It was not Yehuda Leib’s father after all. He wore a bullet-pocked uniform, and a single gold tooth gleamed in his head.

Yehuda Leib knew this soldier: the hanged man, the very last he had seen in the Gallows.

Of course, thought Yehuda Leib. He must’ve been a lookout.

How could he have been so foolish?

But there was no time for regrets now.

“Take him,” said the gold-toothed sentry, and Yehuda Leib ran.

Chapter Fifteen: The Retreat

Deep within the halls of the Dantalion, a Nameless Girl crouched, hidden in the shadows, her thin fingers curled tight around the cold spoon in her apron pocket.

There was shouting, cursing, struggle very nearby, but she couldn’t see, couldn’t understand where it was coming from.