“You get used to it, Tam,” Beth said softly. “Honor them, now. Brace up.”

On the bridge platform the Masters of the Ropes tightened nooses around the necks of the condemned. The hanging ropes were about as long as each prisoner was tall, and lashed to ringbolts just behind each prisoner’s feet. There were no clever mechanisms in the hanging platform, no fancy tricks. This wasn’t Tal Verrar. Here in the east, prisoners were simply heaved over the edge.

“Jerevin Tavasti,” shouted the herald, consulting a parchment. “Arson, conspiracy to receive stolen goods, assault upon a duke’s officer! Malina Contada, counterfeiting and attendant misuse of His Grace the Duke’s name and image. Caio Vespasi, burglary, malicious mummery, arson, and horse theft! Lorio Vespasi, conspiracy to receive stolen goods.”

So much for the adults; the herald moved on to the three children. Tam sobbed, and Beth whispered, “Shhhh, now.” Locke noted that Beth was coldly calm, and he tried to imitate her air of disinterest. Eyes just so, chin up, mouth just shy of a frown. Surely, if she glanced at him during the ceremony, she’d notice and approve .…

“Mariabella, no surname,” yelled the herald. “Theft and wanton disobedience! Zilda, no surname. Theft and wanton disobedience!”

The Masters were tying extra weights to the legs of this last trio of prisoners, since their own slight bodies might not provide for a swift enough conclusion at the ends of their plunges.

“Lars, no surname. Theft and wanton disobedience.”

“Zilda was kind to me,” whispered Tam, his voice breaking.

“The gods know it,” said Beth. “Hush now.”

“For crimes of the body you shall suffer death of the body,” continued the herald. “You will be suspended above running water and hanged there by the necks until dead, your unquiet spirits to be carried forth upon the water to the Iron Sea, where they may do no further harm to any soul or habitation of the duke’s domain. May the gods receive your souls mercifully, in good time.” The herald lowered his scroll and faced the prisoners. “In the duke’s name I give you justice.”

Drums rolled. One of the Masters of the Ropes drew a sword, in case any of the prisoners fought their handlers. Locke had seen a hanging before, and he knew the condemned only got one chance at whatever dignity was left to them.

Today the drops ran smooth. The drumroll crashed to silence. Each pair of hooded yellowjackets stepped forward and shoved their prisoner off the edge of the hanging platform.

Tam flinched away, as Locke had thought he might, but even he was unprepared for No-Teeth’s reaction when the seven ropes jerked taut with snapping noises that might have been hemp, or necks, or both.

“Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Each scream was longer and louder than the last. Beth clamped a hand over No-Teeth’s mouth and struggled with him. Over the water, four large bodies and three smaller ones swung like pendulums in arcs that quickly grew smaller and smaller.

Locke’s heart pounded. Everyone nearby had to be staring at them. He heard chuckling and disapproving comments. The more attention they drew to themselves, the harder it would be to go about their real business.

“Shhh,” said Beth, straining to keep No-Teeth under control. “Quiet, damn you. Quiet!”

“What’s the matter, girl?”

Locke was dismayed to see that a pair of yellowjackets had parted the crowd just behind them. Gods, that was worse than anything! What if they were prowling for Shades’ Hill orphans? What if they asked hard questions? He curbed an impulse to leap for the water below and froze in place, eyes wide.

Beth kept an arm locked over No-Teeth’s face yet managed to somehow squirm around and bow her head to the constables.

“My little brother,” she gasped out, “he’s never seen a hanging before. We don’t mean to cause a fuss. I’ve shut him up.”

No-Teeth ceased his struggles, but he began to sob. The yellowjacket who’d spoken, a middle-aged man with a face full of scars, looked down at him with distaste.

“You four come here alone?”

“Mother sent us,” said Beth. “Wanted the boys to see a hanging. See the rewards of idleness and bad company.”

“A right-thinking woman. Nothing like a good hanging to scare the mischief out of a sprat.” The man frowned. “Why ain’t she here with you?”

“Oh, she loves a hanging, does Mother,” said Beth. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper: “But, um, she’s got the flux. Bad. All day she’s been sitting on her—”

“Ah. Well then.” The yellowjacket coughed. “Gods send her good health. You’d best not bring thisone back to a Penance Day ceremony for a while.”

“I agree, sir.” Beth bowed again. “Mother’ll scratch his hide for this.”

“On your way then, girl. Don’t need no more of a scene.”

“Of course, sir.”

The constables moved away into the crowd, which was itself coming back to life. Beth slid off the stone wall, rather gracelessly, because No-Teeth and Tam came with her. The former was still held tightly, and the latter refused to let go of her other arm. He hadn’t cried out like No-Teeth, but Locke saw that his eyes brimmed with tears and he was even more pale-looking than before. Locke ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, which had gone dry under the scrutiny of the yellowjackets.

“Come now,” said Beth. “Away from here. We’ve seen all there is to see.”

8

ANOTHER PASSAGE through the forest of coats, legs, and bellies. Locke, feeling excitement rise again, gently clung to the back of Beth’s tunic to avoid losing her, and he was both pleased and disappointed when she didn’t react at all. Beth led them back into the green shadows of the Mara Camorrazza, where quiet solitude reigned not forty yards from a crowd of hundreds, and once they were safely ensconced in a concealed nook she pushed Tam and No-Teeth to the ground.

“What if another bunch from the Hill saw that? Gods!”

“Sorry,” moaned No-Teeth. “But they … but they … they got kill—”

“People die when they get hanged. It’s why they hang them!” Beth wrung the front of her tunic with both hands, then took a deep breath. “Recover yourselves. Now. Each of you must lift a purse, or something, before we go back.”

No-Teeth broke into a new fit of sobs, rolled over on his side, and chewed his knuckles. Tam, sounding more weary than Locke would have imagined possible, said, “I can’t, Beth. I’m sorry. I’ll get caught. I just can’t.”

“You’ll go without supper tonight.”

“Fine,” said Tam. “Take me back, please.”

“Damn it.” Beth rubbed her eyes. “I need to bring you back with something to show for it or I’ll be in just as much trouble as you, understand?”

“You’re in Windows,” muttered Tam. “You got no worries.”

“If only,” said Beth. “You two need to pull yourselves together—”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

Locke sensed a glorious opportunity. Beth had saved them from trouble on the embankment, and here was an ideal moment for him to do the same. Smiling at the thought of her reaction, he stood as tall as he could manage and cleared his throat.

“Tam, don’t be a louse,” said Beth, completely ignoring Locke. “You willclutch something, or work a tease so someone else can clutch. I’ll not give you another choice—”

“Excuse me,” said Locke, hesitantly.

“What do you want?”

“They can each have one of mine,” said Locke.

“What?” Beth turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

From under his tunic, Locke produced two leather purses and a fine silk handkerchief, only mildly stained.

“Three pieces,” he said. “Three of us. Just say we all clutched one and we can go home now.”

“Where in all the hellsdid you—”

“In the crowd,” said Locke. “You had No-Teeth … you were paying so much attention to him, you must not have seen.”

“I didn’t tell you to lift anything yet!”