‘So you won't do anything?’ said Tab. She knew Philmon was glaring at her.

Crankshaft stood. ‘Not won't, child. Can't. Ensign, take this girl home.’

Philmon snapped to attention. ‘Aye-aye, sir.’

‘When you're done, return here immediately,’ said the first lieutenant. ‘And think long and hard on why I'm not relieving you of your duty.’

As soon as they were outside, Philmon rounded on Tab. ‘See? You almost cost me my job. Oh, why did I listen to you?’

Tab ignored him. She looked scared. This made Philmon shut up. ‘So the navy doesn't have enough crew to defend Quentaris,’ said Tab. The idea staggered her. She had never given any thought to their defences before, had never realised just how vulnerable they were.

‘We've never met an enemy we couldn't handle, so what's the -?’

‘Where would you find an extra crew, if you needed one?’

Philmon looked at her balefully. ‘Huh?’

‘Answer me,’ said Tab, urgently.

Philmon scratched his head. ‘I don't know. You'd need people who've got naval experience, I guess.’

Tab's face lit up. ‘That's right,’ she said. ‘You would.’

‘But there aren't any,’ said Philmon. ‘I mean, the Sky Sailors’ Guild is what used to be the Merchant Navy. We've already got everybody with shipboard time, even the deck scrubbers!’

‘Not everybody,’ said Tab, and she turned and sprinted away. Philmon stared after her, frowning.

‘Absolutely not!’ Fontagu said crossly to Tab. He always got cross when he was frightened. ‘Count me out. There is nothing you can say to change my mind.’

An hour later, Tab was creeping along a wall, keeping to the shadows. She came to a sudden stop. Somebody bumped into her from behind.

‘Fontagu!’

‘You said to stay close,’ came his nervous reply.

‘Not that close!’

Fontagu grumbled, backing off an inch or two. He looked furtively about in all directions. ‘This is a big mistake,’ he hissed, not for the first time. ‘They'll slit our throats and make us beg for mercy!’

‘Probably not in that order,’ said Tab, but she kept her voice too low for Fontagu to hear. She had to admit it was a crazy plan. Even stage one was crazy: that is, enter the Thieves’ Quarter unarmed and at night. It was well known that the city watchmen themselves avoided the quarter after dark, unless they were at least a squadron strong, or on a suicide mission.

Tab gave Fontagu a quick look. Once again, she nearly laughed. He had donned a thief's outfit, as he called it. He wore baggy pantaloons, a gold-braided vest with brass buttons and puffed sleeves, a head scarf, and – as usual – a fake wooden sword painted silver to look real. Tab had had a big job talking him out of wearing an eye patch.

‘You read too many trashy stories,’ she had told him in exasperation.

It wasn't hard finding the tavern called The Purple Wart, partly because some enterprising owner had paid to have a gigantic nose bearing a wart, complete with little wart hairs, erected above the main door. By some magic, the wart even changed colour, from red to blue to glorious purple.

‘Charming,’ said Tab, eyeing the monstrosity. ‘You sure that's the place?’

Fontagu nodded. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Sure.’

‘Really?’ Fontagu seemed surprised.

‘Yep,’ said Tab. ‘If you want to walk all the way back through the Thieves’ Quarter by yourself wearing those ridiculous clothes, be my guest.’

Fontagu straightened up and looked down his nose at her. ‘My clothes are not ridiculous,’ he said.

‘I take it that means you're coming with me?’

Fontagu sniffed. ‘As concern for a child of your tender years is always my first priority, I do believe that in this case my presence is required, in spite of the obvious danger to my person.’

‘Could you repeat that?’ asked Tab. ‘No, don't bother. I'll remind you of it later if I need to.’

Fontagu bristled but said nothing.

Tab checked the street. All was clear. ‘Ready?’ she asked Fontagu.

He gulped and nodded. He appeared to have something wrong with his voice.

Tab hurried across the street to the tavern and pushed open the door. The hubbub dwindled gradually. All eyes were fixed on Tab and Fontagu, and not all of them were friendly. In fact, very few of them were.

Tab took a deep breath and headed across the room. According to Fontagu, who seemed to have an uncommonly detailed knowledge of the Quentaran underworld, the man Tab sought kept a booth at the back of The Purple Wart once or twice a week.

She was almost across the room when a thickset troll stepped out of an archway in front of her. His broad shoulders blocked out the door. By the smell of him, he was a drainer.

Tab looked up into the troll's mad, blazing eyes. She swallowed. No one in their right mind messed with a troll. Especially one with such disgusting breath and so many teeth.

‘Er, hello… ’ said Tab, sounding as friendly as she could.

The troll thrust out his hand and growled. His blubbery mouth twitched. Tab got the definite impression he was about to bite off her head, when -

‘Leave her be, Vrod,’ said a voice.

‘Sweet meat, good eating,’ the troll said. His voice sounded like gravel being crushed.

A hand tapped Vrod on the shoulder and the troll stepped grudgingly aside, though he never took his mad eyes off Tab.

Tab shifted her gaze to the man now standing before her. His eyes suddenly flashed in recognition. ‘You?’ he said in amazement. It was the same man who had tried to steal the magicians’ icefire gem more than a year ago, the same man she had locked in the pantry.

Great, Tab thought to herself. Just great.

She started to back away. ‘Uh… I think I made a mistake.’ She turned, intending to dart for the door.

‘Seize her!’ yelled the man. She felt vice-like arms close around her and she was lifted off the floor. ‘Bring the other one too.’

Tab heard Fontagu's whinnying whimper close behind as they were taken to a booth against the far wall. Tab was shoved into a seat and Fontagu squeezed hurriedly in next to her, looking as if he was ready to burst into tears. ‘Don't hurt me, please, please don't hurt me,’ he wailed over and over.

‘Vrod,’ said the tall man. ‘Shut him up. Nicely.’

Fontagu suddenly found a wad of phlegm-smeared cloth had been shoved in his mouth. His eyes widened indignantly but Vrod leaned down close to his face. Fontagu tried an unsuccessful smile.

‘That will do, Vrod.’ The tall man seated himself opposite them. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Tab. ‘I don't take kindly to being locked in a closet and left waiting for the tender attentions of magicians!’

‘Sorry about that. But I did set you free. You know, the string -?’

‘Ah, yes. The string. I suppose I do have you to thank for that. Imprisoned me, then freed me. Well, in that case, drinks all round.’ He shouted orders. When he turned back he saw a look of such confusion on Tab's face that he burst out laughing.

‘Come now, we must have honour among thieves. There is so little any place else!’

‘Does that mean you're not going to kill us?’

‘Kill you? Why, perish the thought. Not only do I owe you my life, twice over – for I would never have made it out of there alive had I had the gem with me! – but I bow before a greater thief than I.’ And he did just that. He stood up and bowed to her in a princely fashion.

Tab squirmed uncomfortably.

Fontagu gurgled something. ‘I think he's trying to say he helped,’ said Tab. Fontagu nodded vigorously. The tall man saluted him.

‘Now tell me why a slip of a girl like yourself, and one such as he’ – he indicated Fontagu – ‘would take such a risk as to come to a place like this at night?’

‘Are you Lord Verris?’

The tall man blinked. ‘I am he indeed. And at your service.’

‘Then I need your help,’ said Tab. ‘Quentaris needs your help… ’