Tab was having serious second thoughts. ‘Maybe we should employ a professional thief,’ she said. Now her voice was sounding squeaky. ‘Crocodile Sal's still around. She's -’

‘Ten silver moons,’ hissed Fontagu. ‘Besides, you owe me. Rescue from that gutter. Protection against one seriously ugly troll. And you told me you are the best thief around!’

‘Yeah, but… ’

‘No time for buts,’ said Fontagu. ‘And this Sal girl isn't here and most of her thieving friends followed the army. No, we've got to move now. Here, let me hoist you up.’

Tab found herself placing a foot in Fontagu's cupped hands. ‘I still think -’

‘Allow me to do the thinking, Tab. On the count of three, then,’ said Fontagu. ‘One, two, three!’

Tab catapulted up. She clung to the edge of the drainpipe then swung her legs up to gain a better purchase. Straddling the pipe she regained her breath. ‘It doesn't half stink up here,’ she said. ‘You sure it's rain water?’ The colour of it turned her stomach. Although she'd swept muck from the streets, she never wanted to crawl through it.

‘Time is of the essence, remember!’ Fontagu called cheerily.

Tab scowled. Fontagu hadn't mentioned anything about squeezing through narrow pipes that dripped sewage. Still, there were ten silver moons to consider. She slid one foot then the other into the pipe, took a deep breath, and began crawling backwards along its length. It was a tight squeeze. Anyone even slightly bigger would never have managed it.

She'd learnt that breathing through the mouth was much better than through the nose when shovelling muck. This helped her reach the kitchen without losing her pie. She forced open a rusted grille and wriggled from the pipe, sprawling onto a cold flagstone floor. No alarms had sounded, and she blinked back sudden tears.

An angry buzzing sound filled the room. Stepping carefully, she crept past the stoves and stopped at the sight of a pot of rancid dripping. It was crawling with flies, and this was the source of the buzzing.

Used as she was to sickening smells, this one still managed to make her feel queasy. She hurried over to what looked like the door to a pantry and swung it open. Nothing looked remotely like a grinder. She snuck over to another door and easing it open she stifled her elation.

Tab reached for the grinder handle, then suddenly stopped. Did she really know what she was doing? There was something fishy about Fontagu. How did he really know where to find the icefire gem? She didn't buy the bit about the Archon's spies. If they knew where it was, they would have stolen it back themselves. And was it really a coincidence that he had been passing the drain hole just as she got stuck? Had Mrs Figgin set her up? If so, it had been a rather elaborate way to press-gang her…

Tab was furious with herself. But she was here now, and whatever else might or might not be true, she needed the money. On top of all this, a terrible loss burned deep inside her. There had been no alarms. And that meant that either Fontagu's bronze bracelet really did work, or she had no magic in her, not even the tiniest bit.

‘I don't care,’ she muttered to herself. She wiped away angry tears then yanked savagely on the lever. A wall laden with shelves of jars and bottles slid aside and a startled rat scampered out of view.

Tab froze.

The icefire gem was a crystal the size of an orange. It glowed with a beautiful bluish light, but that wasn't what bedazzled her. Deep inside it, burnt a living flame. And suddenly, it flared.

Tab felt a blinding shaft of pain in her head. ‘Eek!’ she yelped, staggering sideways, groping blindly to steady herself.

She took a deep breath then, and forced the pain away, squinting at the icefire gem. Was this some magical attack? If so, it had failed. She was still on her feet. Tab reached out, but before her trembling fingers could touch the gem, alarms began to wail throughout the building.

The pounding of running feet came from above. Swiftly, she snatched the gem from its pedestal and whirled. But the wall behind her was faster. It slammed shut, imprisoning her inside the fake pantry.

She rammed her shoulder into the door. Her teeth rattled, but still it held. At the same instant something touched her. She let out a frightened cry.

But the touch wasn't on her body. It was inside her, as though someone had dragged a ghostly feather across her mind. With it came a dizzying fragmented glimpse of the pantry door – only it was from the other side, looking up as if from the floor.

Tab began to pant. The strange vision had shaken her. It had seemed utterly real.

But she had no time for wondering. She must get out of here, and fast. Five minutes, Fontagu had said. She had less than five minutes to escape.

She pushed against the sliding door but it did not budge. Panic rose in her. Something faint and whispery touched her mind. She felt rather than saw the word ‘Danger!’ and instinctively flinched back from the door just as it whipped open.

Standing there was a tall man dressed in black. He seemed as shocked to see Tab as she was to see him. Clearly, he was no magician, but his eyes went straight to the icefire gem in Tab's fist.

He held out a hand for it. ‘Please give it to me,’ he said politely. ‘Fear not, I won't harm you.’

Oddly enough, she knew he was speaking the truth. But her survival relied heavily on the gem.

She held out the gem, then dropped it on the floor. As he moved for it, she darted past, shoved him from behind, then reached into the tangle of limbs as the man lost his balance, and snatched away the gem. She jumped backwards and hit the door lever. Instantly, the door slid shut, entombing the stranger inside. She heard an almost merry chuckle and a muffled, ‘Well done.’

Tab barely had time to gather her wits. Doors were slamming elsewhere in the building, and the running feet were coming closer.

Tab scurried across the kitchen and put her ear to the door. No, not this way. She slid a bar across, locking it, then darted to the grille by which she had entered. She thrust her head inside and heard strange barking coughs. White-faced, she withdrew. They were using ferras. The rift world predators loved tunnels. And shredding their prey when they caught it.

That way was closed. Worse, the ferras would soon be in the kitchen. She dragged a heavy cabinet in front of the grille and hoped it would slow them down, then looked about frantically. The creatures could pop up anywhere!

The rat she had seen earlier suddenly darted out from under the kitchen worktable and disappeared beneath a bench. Tab blinked. A second later, she heaved the bench aside revealing a drain used for washing down the floor. But it was too narrow, even for her. She would never fit into it. Not with her clothes on. Unless…

Tab ripped off her tunic and tore down her breeches. Stripped to her underclothes she grabbed the cooking pot of putrid dripping. An ugly swarm of flies rose to defend it. Her gorge rising, she scooped out two handfuls of the rancid muck and smeared it all over her body.

A loud impact jarred the barred door. Tab raised her hands, ready to jump. There was a soft knocking from inside the pantry. Oh, no. She had completely forgotten about the man in black. If the magicians caught him in there they would assume he had stolen the icefire gem and he would be tortured in the most horrible ways.

But there was no time to worry about anyone else's welfare.

Grunting, she snatched the grille from the drain and flung it aside. Then she grabbed a ball of string from a wall peg, the kind used to tie up turkeys and legs of lamb. She knotted one end to the pantry lever and wrapped the other in her fist.

Then she expelled all the air from her lungs and sucked in her stomach.

‘This is becoming a habit,’ she said breathlessly, and jumped into the drain. At once the string pulled tight. She heard the pantry door slam open, then she was falling.