On the fourth night at sea, the storm found them.It rolled in from the east like a wall, black and enormous, tearing the sky open with lightning. The Gray Lantern climbed each wave and slid down the other side, her timbers groaning, her single lamp swinging wildly at the masthead.Ren had never been on the ocean before. He had never imagined it would be so loud."Secure the cargo!" Captain Tave bellowed. "Hold fast! Mister Ren, if you're going to be sick, do it downwind!"Pip was already being sick, bent over the rail with Hesk's hand firmly planted between her shoulder blades. Dara lashed crates with a coil of rope and a stream of inventive swearing. Ren wedged himself against the mainmast and tried not to think about how many things were trying to kill them.Then the water beneath the hull went very still."That's wrong," said the captain quietly.A ridge of foam crested to starboard. Then another. Something long and dark rose out of the sea in the lightning's glare. It had a head

The lighthouse door was locked from the inside.It took Hesk two kicks to open it. Beyond the door, a spiral stair wound upward through dust and cobwebs. The air smelled of old stone and cold ashes. Halfway up, Ren heard a floorboard creak above them, light and quick, like a startled animal."Come out," he called. "I'm not here to hurt you."No answer."I got your message. I'm the one you told to stay away."Silence. Then a thin voice drifted down from the lamp room. "You're an idiot.""I've been told."He climbed. The stair ended at a round room full of broken lenses and old maps, with a single dusty window looking out across the harbor. A girl crouched in the corner with a kitchen knife in both hands.She was maybe seventeen. Dark skin, short cropped hair, and wide, wary eyes the color of pale honey. She wore a patched gray cloak that was too thin for the cold, and a silver ring on every finger.The rings glowed faintly when he stepped into the room."Don't come closer," she said."

They spent the first night in a boat shed that smelled of tar and dead fish.Ilyra sat in the corner with her knees drawn up and her rings pressed against her mouth, watching the door. Pip had fallen asleep against a coil of rope, one hand still wrapped around her bow. Hesk kept watch at the window. Dara paced."We can't stay here," she said, for the fourth time. "Auditors check every boat shed in the harbor by morning.""Then we need a better place," said Ren."With what money? Everything here costs Notes, and we don't have any."Ilyra lifted her head. "I know someone."Her someone turned out to be a seventy-year-old woman named Granna Oss, who lived at the end of a crooked alley in the Weavers' quarter, in a house built entirely of salvaged ship timber. She opened the door with a netting needle in her hand and looked at Ilyra for a long moment."You're thin," she said. "Come in. Bring your friends. They look like drowned cats."The house was tiny and warm and crowded with nets. Rows

Ilyra moved into the Merrow cellar that night, with Pip, Hesk, and enough bread to feed an army.Ren went back to the Weighing Floor the next morning with Dara, dressed as a pair of grain merchants. They carried a purse of Notes that Odalys had lent them and a sealed ledger that said nothing. The idea was simple. They would watch. They would count. They would find out where the days went.The floor was busier than the day before. A long line stretched out the door and around the corner. Clerks called names in tired voices. A guard stood at every pillar, wearing the gray-blue of the Treasury."I count nineteen guards," Dara murmured."I count one hundred and sixty people in line.""How long until they all sell?""Before noon."They took a bench by the wall and pretended to compare figures. Ren kept his eyes on the iron door at the back of the hall. It was marked with a bronze scale, and every few minutes, a clerk carried a fresh stack of stamped forms through it."That's where it goes,

Voss was waiting for him in a cafe on the harbor road.Ren had not expected that. He had imagined a throne room, or an arena, or a shadowed alley with guards in every doorway. Instead, he found a bright little shop with blue shutters, a chalkboard menu, and a single table by the window where a thin man in a gray coat sat drinking tea.Halvane Voss looked up and smiled."Mr. Calder. How good of you to come. Please, sit. The honey cake is quite remarkable."Ren did not sit. "Where is she?""Ms. Hesk is perfectly comfortable. She is in a private suite, eating well and refusing to speak to anyone." Voss sipped. "Remarkable woman. I rather like her.""You took her to get to me.""I did, and I regret the means." He set the cup down. He looked older than Ren remembered, thin and gray, his collar slightly too loose. A faint blue line still ran under the skin of his throat. "But I could think of no other way to bring you here without Lord Mael learning of it.""You work for Mael.""I advise hi