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and taverns.
    Tab hurtled down the lane after Fontagu with Chak hard on her heels. The sky-trader snagged one of her pigtails and Tab's head jerked. ‘Ahh!’ she called as she lost her footing and slipped. Chak straddled her and pummelled with her fists. Tab screamed, but knew her calls for help would go unnoticed in the fracas all around.
    Suddenly, Chak made a funny ‘Yoick!’ noise, and Tab felt the weight lift off her stomach. The skytrader's arms and legs flailed as Vrod held her by the scruff of the neck.
    ‘You!’ Tab gasped. ‘Are you following me?’
    ‘Verris say watch the girl. I watch the girl,’ the troll grunted. His nostrils flared and his ears waggled as he took in the sounds and aroma of the fighting. His eyes took on a dreamy look, like a dog scratching an itch. ‘Go. I've got bones to crack. Fresh marrow!’ Vrod licked his lips.

     
    Chak yelped and thrashed but the troll held her at arm's length as though she were a naughty kitten.
    Tab scrambled to her feet and dashed off down the alley. In the streets around her she could hear the thump of running boots, roars, grunts and the clash of metal as sky-traders and Quentarans fought each other. Still, her way was clear, apart from rats and cats lurking in corners and picking their way through the debris that lined the alley.
    As she ran she noticed that the sandpaper feeling in her head had diminished. It wasn't gone altogether, but she felt that she could mind-meld if she concentrated hard. It was a good feeling – a satisfying feeling, like splashing your face with cold water on a hot day.
    Tab reached a crossroads and she stopped, trying to get her bearings. At the end of the alleyway she could see at least twenty people fighting. Hulk Duelph and his fiery sister Taschia despatched opponents side by side. Rad de La'rel and his partner Tulcia chased two sky-traders that they had disarmed along the street.

     
    The sky-traders stopped to collect swords from fallen comrades and soon the tables were turned.
    Drunk Quentarans and trolls threw themselves into the fray with relish. The tiny sky-traders fought with efficient accuracy. In the gloom it was hard for Tab to tell who was winning.
    Which way would Fontagu go? Tab wondered. It couldn't be! The old slaughterhouse! What a place to take a sad old animal! She turned in a circle and realised she was not fifty paces from the doorway. Checking that she was not being followed, Tab rushed up to the building.
    Fontagu poked his head out of the doorway, listening to the screams and the fighting in the streets. He gathered his cloak closer about him.
    ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, picking Tab's form out of the gloom. He rushed into the alley and hauled Tab inside by the sleeve, slamming the door behind them.
    Once inside he ran from window to window, fastening shutters that still had hinges and locks, and shoving old equipment in front of windows that were bare. His cloak flapped about his limbs as he scurried.
    The equen stood in the middle of the slaughterhouse looking bewildered and miserable.
    Tab stepped over the old timber and broken beams that littered the floor. She took in the fragrance of the mare's breath. It smelt sickly, like overripe fruit, and cloying like turned cream. Her flanks were hollow with dehydration and the dried sweat made grimy curlicues of her dirty coat.
    At the end of the row Tab pushed open the halfdoor of an old stall that still had some straw in it. The equen stumbled toward an open barrel, halffilled with stagnant water.
    ‘Wait,’ Tab said. She dragged the barrel out into the main holding area and tipped the foul water into the drain. Then she hauled the barrel across to a rusty water pump in the corner. It was corroded, and squeaked as she pumped, but the water that came from the spout smelt fresh enough.
    Tab lugged it back to the stable and stood it in the corner. The equen drank with gusto, and the muscles beneath her eyes twitched with every gulp she