With these thoughts in her mind, and with the vortex-bells ringing high in the rigging, Tab pulled her blanket over herself and picked up her book.

A short time later, without too much fuss, the journey through the vortex had come and gone. It all happened fairly quickly, and was barely even violent enough to make her stop reading. Sometimes going through a vortex led to buildings and walls falling down, and occasionally animals and even people being injured, sometimes even bits of the rigging came down in the streets. A few weeks before an entire spar, as thick as a market lane was wide, had crashed down in the Thieves’ Quarter. Even though many joked that a piece of timber that size was the only thing that could have landed in that part of the city without fear of being stolen, the truth was that a couple of dozen people had been crushed to death. It was almost as if it was a reminder that vortexes weren’t a trivial matter. What was certain was that they were now a regular part of life in Quentaris.

But this one had been relatively gentle, little more than a rumble coming through Tab’s mattress, a couple of minutes of darkness, one or two bricks falling from a wall somewhere nearby, and a sudden pallid brightness which made Tab think of watered-down lightning. It was a relief. A gentler vortex meant less of a clean-up around the farm.

In the street that ran along the other side of the stable wall, Tab could hear excited voices and hurried footsteps. This was as much a part of travelling through a vortex as mixing up mortar for repairing walls. Nor’city Farm was quite close to the edge of the city, and every time Quentaris was taken through into another world, most Quentarans rushed to the edge to look down and see what kind of place they’d been taken to this time.

Quite frankly, Tab couldn’t be bothered. She was tired. Besides, she’d find out the next day, when everyone was talking about the colour of the land, whether it was mountainous or flat, dry or lush, populated or deserted. She’d find out, she’d be interested for a moment, and then she’d go back to not caring that much either way.

So for now, unless Bendo barged into her stall and insisted that she clean up some mess or another, she was going to stay right where she was, and she was going to sleep.

It was an empty world below Quentaris. It had been for days, ever since they arrived through the gentle vortex. Day upon day of endless ocean below, and overcast skies above, with a washed-out sun doing its best to cast its weak glow from beyond the thin cloud.

Tab leaned out over the edge of the parapet and looked down. Beside her, Philmon formed a huge blob of saliva between his lips. It grew and grew, and finally he pursed his lips and let it break free. It fell past the city wall, past the jutting rocks and soil where Quentaris had been torn away from its original site, and continued to pick up speed as it plummeted down towards the blue shimmer of the ocean far below. Then, long before it had even passed the bottom of the ‘keel’ of Quentaris, it was lost to their view.

‘You’re disgusting,’ Amelia said, but she giggled as a nearby sightseer tutted his disapproval.

‘It’s not like there’s anything down there for it to land on,’ Philmon replied. ‘It’s just a whole lot of water. Spit plus water equals more water.’

‘So, Philmon, what’s the word from up in the rigging?’ Tab asked. ‘It’s been fifteen days now…’

‘Eighteen,’ Amelia corrected her.

‘Is it that many? So, it’s been eighteen days since we arrived here, and nothing. No landing parties…’

‘There’s nothing to land on,’ Philmon said.

‘So why are we staying here? Couldn’t they call up a new vortex and go somewhere better?’

‘I wouldn’t know. They don’t tell me anything like that. I just work up there,’ Philmon replied.

‘I wasn’t trying to squeeze you for information,’ she said.

He smiled. ‘Yes you were.’

‘All right, I kind of was. But you don’t know anything?’

‘Not a thing.’

‘Maybe we’re staying here. Maybe Florian’s bored with being a pirate,’ Amelia said.

Tab frowned at her. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘What if someone hears you?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Well you should care. They’ll chuck you in Skulum Gate with all the others. And me as well.’

‘You should be careful,’ Philmon agreed. He turned and looked at the tired sun, which was trying to shine through, and mostly failing. ‘I think I’m back on shift soon,’ he said. ‘It’s hard to say with that sun. It doesn’t behave like it should. Have you noticed how much shorter the days are?’

‘Maybe that’s why there’s been eighteen of them when I thought there were only fifteen,’ Tab mused.

‘No, that’s because you’re bored,’ Amelia said. ‘Come on, let’s go and see how Fontagu’s going with the play.’

‘Oh, that’s not fair!’ Philmon wailed. ‘I’ve got to go to work!’

‘Well have a great time,’ Tab said. ‘And see if you can find out anything.’

‘I’ll do what I can.’

While Philmon slouched off to work, the girls began the ten minute walk to the New Paragon playhouse. ‘I still don’t know what this stupid play’s about,’ Amelia said. ‘I know nothing about this story.’

‘You’re such a cultured thing, aren’t you?’ Tab replied, deciding not to tell Amelia that she’d slept through most of the one production she’d seen. ‘You don’t know the story of The Gimlet Eye?’

Amelia shrugged. ‘Should I?’

‘Probably.’

‘So, tell me about it. And try to make it interesting.’

‘Well, it’s a bit of an old-fashioned story,’ Tab said.

‘You mean the language?’

‘Not just that. I mean yes, it is written with old-fashioned words, but the story’s pretty old as well. You know, with people mistaking girls for boys and boys for girls and snakes for worms and all that kind of carry-on. I can’t believe people used to fall for that sort of thing!’

‘People haven’t always been as smart as they are now,’ Amelia said.

‘I guess that’s true. Anyway, the story goes a bit like this: there’s this beastie roaming the mountains near a particular village. All the people who live in the village are getting terrified, because this beast – the Gimlet Eye, it’s called – is causing serious havoc. It starts out killing livestock, like horses and mules and sheep and goats and ducks and shickins and all sorts of things.

‘So the little… the commoners put up with this for a while, but eventually they’re starting to get fed up with having to lock all their animals away every night. But they’re not as fed up with the locked-up the animals away as the beastie is, and it starts taking unsuspecting people. Anyone alone in the fields, or in the woods, or sleeping rough, the Gimlet Eye takes them.’

‘Hang on, why’s it called the Gimlet Eye? What does that even mean?’

‘A gimlet is a really sharp little tool, kind of like a spike. It’s a bit like a very small hand-drill, I think.’

Amelia looked confused. ‘And the eye?’

‘I’m getting there,’ Tab said, with a tiny frustrated shake of her head. ‘The Eye kills people by waking them up, or getting their attention, then it takes on the form of a beautiful woman. And when I say beautiful, I mean the most beautiful woman you can imagine.’

Amelia sighed. ‘How did I know this was coming?’ she said, stepping around a dog that was scratching fleas in the middle of the street. ‘There’s always a beautiful woman who turns out to be the monster.’

‘Not always, but in this case, yes,’ Tab said, smiling. ‘So the Gimlet Eye takes on the form of a gorgeous woman, and when it’s got the attention of the man in question, it holds his attention, and of course he can’t move because he’s absolutely transfixed by its beauty. And while he’s transfixed, it gazes into his eyes, and cooks his brain.’

‘Through the eyes?’ Amelia asked breathlessly.