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to face her. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Dill couldn’t breathe.

“Look at me! I won’t leave you. You’re safe.” She lifted the lantern between them. Her eyes were bright, full of concern. “There’s plenty of oil left, plenty of light.”

Gradually the pressure in Dill’s chest eased, his shaking subsided. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel so ashamed.” He tried to turn away, break her grip, but she held him tightly.

“Don’t be,” she said. “Everyone is afraid of something. Look at Carnival—why do you think she avoids the daylight?”

“I’m a temple archon,” his voice broke, “but I can’t do anything right. I can’t use a sword, I can hardly fly.” He closed his eyes, trying desperately to conceal his shame. “I can’t even manage the soulcage horses. And this darkness…it terrifies me! I’m a coward. I’m nothing.”

What would my father think of me? And you, Rachel, what would you think if you knew how I hesitated?There was no escape from his shame. He met her gaze, and misery swamped him.

“Youare facing the dark, Dill. Look how far you’ve come already. Gods below, you’re braver than me.”

“But you can fight.”

“You think that’s brave?” A pained smile. “There’s nothing honourable in Church-sanctified murder. A Heshette heathen is still a human being. A traitor is still a human being.” The hurt in her eyes shocked him. “Before the Spine gave me to the rooftops, I hunted Heshette spies and informers, sometimes mercenaries and pilgrims who’d fled the city. In Hollowhill and Sandport and the Shale Forest. I don’t know how many—it frightens me to remember. But I murdered them because I was afraid not to. Once you’re part of the Spine, you obey or become a threat yourself.”

For a long moment they stood in silence, leagues of empty darkness above them, immeasurable unknown depths below, and it seemed to Dill that they were the only two people left in the world. Angel and assassin, alone here but for their warped, wraithlike reflections deep in the black stone.

Is this how the abyss sees us? Grotesque parodies of the people we once hoped we’d become?His own reflection mocked him with its cruel honesty. In the mirrored stone he saw an angel he barely recognized: older than his sixteen years, yet malformed, stretched thin by longing only to be corrupted by the hard edges of reality, debased by fear.

He tore his gaze away.

Is this all I am? Please, Ulcis, give me the strength to change. Give me courage, for Rachel’s sake. More than me, she needs someone to protect her.

He remembered Carnival. How much had she been shaped by brutal truths? Yet Carnival had no illusions about who she was or who she might become. Suddenly Dill understood her. Her scars were self-inflicted. She hates herself, damages herself to keep some deeper part intact . Dill’s heart clenched at the realization. Carnival’s soul wasn’t scarred and ugly: it was pure. And she guarded it fiercely.

Her scars were armour.

Carnival and Rachel…bitter enemies. And yet so similar.

He searched for her in the depths.Where is she? When Scar Night comes, who will kill whom?

Rachel seemed to read his thoughts. She released him, her eyes veiled. “Perhaps Carnival decided she didn’t need us after all.” She didn’t sound like she believed that.

Water dripped steadily, beating a tiny rhythm on the metal: a narrow trail from Deep to Deepgate. For whom was it constructed? Will this path be walked by the dead? Dill sniffed: the air held an odour that he found familiar but couldn’t place. For some reason it reminded him of dreams he’d experienced—dreams of battle. “Can you smell something?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It just smells odd.”

“It’s warmer down here. The air is stale.”

Maybe that was it. He took a deep breath, then frowned. No . There was something else, something that made him think of war. In his dreams he was always flying, brandishing a sword or pike or spear, his armour gleaming, a painted shield strapped to one arm. The more he thought about it, the more the smell reminded him of—

Weapons?

Did forged metal have an identifiable smell? Dill shook his head. What else could it be? Something he associated with weapons, armour and war…

A movement down in the darkness caught his attention, a whisper of air. Carnival emerged from the void. She wore a savage grin and her black eyes were shining.

“I’ve seen the bottom,” she said. “This you have to see.”

25

The Tooth

Inside the tooth, Bataba led the way, his long white staff