at the rooftops, vainly searching for his lost crow. “I said you could go,” he said absently. “Why are you still here?”
“You’re going after Da’ru, aren’t you?” said Kate.
“I have a promise to keep.” Silas clenched his fists. “Da’ru will pay for what she has done.”
“I want to go with you.”
Silas looked down at her.
“I’ve done everything you ordered me to do,” said Kate. “Now I need your help. You owe me that.”
“I owe you nothing.”
A stray firecracker streaked from the crowd and burst with an ear-splitting bang overhead. Three more followed. Silas headed down the center of the steps, pushing through the people as they danced and twirled their way along like a living river.
Kate ran to catch up to him.
“What are you doing?” shouted Edgar, struggling to be heard above the noise as he followed her down. “We should go!”
Kate was jostled, pushed, and squeezed between enormous dresses as the masked dancers swallowed her into their midst. She fought her way past pipe players, horses in black veils, and men on stilts wearing decorated blindfolds who were throwing handfuls of dead leaves over anyone they could reach. She ducked beneath one of the stilt walkers and a woman next to her cried out—a single red leaf had caught in Kate’s hair.
“She’s next!” the woman shouted, trying to grab Kate before she slipped away. “This girl will be the next to die!”
Kate ignored the woman and left the leaf flapping where it was. She had no time for superstition. They had the same tradition in her own town but no one took it seriously anymore. The woman shouted something after her, but she was already too far away to hear. She had spotted Silas moving up ahead and she was closing in.
“I did everything you wanted,” she shouted the moment she was close enough. “I need your help. I need you to help me find my uncle. He could have been up here, safe with us, and you just left him behind!”
“We both left him behind,” said Silas, refusing to slow his pace. “I did not hear you complain about it until after the deed was done.”
“I have to find him!” said Kate. “Edgar said those wardens went to the museum looking for you—and for Wintercraft. Artemis was the only other person who knew that you had it.” She dodged the hot breath of a fire breather and people squealed excitedly away from the flames. “He wouldn’t have told anyone about it unless someone forced him. I think Da’ru has him. I need you to help me get him back.”
“Your family’s problems are no concern of mine,” said Silas. “I have spared your life and I spared his. That is payment enough.”
Silas pushed his way on to a street lined with stalls selling every kind of food that Kate had ever known. Steam rose from hot ovens, soups bubbled in enormous pots, and water spat from open pans. The smells were intoxicating. Kate had not eaten since she had been locked in the Council’s cell, and her stomach growled as she followed Silas through clouds of heat filled with the scent of spices, fried meats, and stewed fruits.
“You told me that you were honorable,” she said, ducking beneath the outstretched arm of a biscuit seller. “That you never say things unless you intend to carry them out. You said that as long as I did what you told me, Artemis would live. I’ve tried to do everything you wanted and he is still in danger. You broke your word. I don’t think you have any honor.”
Silas stopped and spun around to face her. “You do not know me, Miss Winters. Do not pretend to.”
A handful of masked people stared at Silas, recognizing him at once, and Kate heard them whispering together before they backed away. Word of his presence spread swiftly, the people parted around him, and he forced his way past a sausage seller, almost toppling the terrified man’s cart as he made a sharp right turn down into an empty barrow alley.
“When those wardens don’t report back, Da’ru will know something is wrong,” shouted Kate, starting to get out of breath. “Her guards will be waiting for you. They will stop you before you even get close to her. You want Da’ru, and I want Artemis. If we work together . . . maybe we can both get what we want.”
“You are a bookseller,” said Silas. “Whatever plan you think you have, it will not work.”
“Da’ru still