She would have to move the treasure out slowly, a little bit at a time. Where? Tab rattled the royals together in her pocket, liking the feel of them as they warmed in her palm.

The hatchling jumped forward. Tab scrambled back, and fell, but it leapt forward again. She sensed its form crouching over her, its eyes like two lamps. She felt its heat radiating on her skin, like sunshine, but somehow oily.

Suddenly her head was filled with images of carcasses, spilt blood and scattered limbs. The dragon chattered and trilled louder and more urgently. In her mind she saw a bullock lying on its side with its guts spilled out, flies encrusted around the edges of the wound. Her mouth filled with saliva, and her stomach churned, but it wasn't revulsion, it was a deep and savage hunger.

The baby dragon latched onto the word in her mind and sent it back to her.

›››Hunger

‘All right,’ she muttered, holding her fingers to her temples.

›››HUNGER! HUNGER! HUNGER!

‘I get it!’ Tab said, wincing.

›››HUNGER! HUNGER! HUNGER! HUNGER!

More visions of cow and oxen corpses flashed through her head, along with a high-pitched whine that stung somewhere behind her eyes. She stumbled back the way she had come, stubbing her toes and grazing her elbows on the various chests in her path. The baby dragon stayed close, stepping on her heels, chirruping and tittering. She felt her way along the rough wall to the door and climbed through it, scraping her shins.

Once in the corridor the hatchling took the lead, bounding along ahead of her, halting every now and then to scold her over its shoulder. Tab could see the glow of its eyes in the dark and she jogged to keep up.

Soon they came to the hole in the wall that led to the cell. As the dragon crossed through the light she saw just a flash of it, shimmering a greenish-gold colour and then it was gone, along the corridor and away.

Tab stopped and poked her head in the hole.

‘I've been so worried!’ said Amelia, gripping the cell bars. ‘You were gone for ages!’

‘What's down there?’ Philmon asked.

Tab saw that he had managed to extract his head from the between the metal shafts. Her hand slipped into her pocket and cradled the coins. She could have told him about the treasure, but she knew she wouldn't. Greed had already crept inside her and buried itself there.

The dragon's call echoed down the corridor. ‘What did it say?’ Philmon asked.

‘It's hungry,’ she said.

‘Is it going to eat you?’ Philmon asked, wide-eyed.

Tab shook her head. ‘It wants cow. Preferably one that has been dead for a while.’

‘Where are you going to find an old, dead cow?’ Amelia wanted to know, wrinkling her nose.

The hatchling chattered crossly before racing ahead.

‘I don't think I'll need to. It's doing a good job of finding things all by itself. I'm just following where it leads,’ Tab answered. ‘I have no idea where this tunnel will come out.’

‘We'll find you,’ Amelia said. ‘Oh, and be careful – the guards know that it's hatched.’

Tab nodded. She imagined the city streets now full of City Watch and marines with nets and crossbows at the ready, all set to take down the baby dragon as soon as they laid eyes on it. She had to protect it. She owed it to Melprin. Besides, she and the hatchling were bonded now.

Tab paused at the tunnel's exit. The archway leading out onto the street was partially blocked by one of Quentaris's massive masts. She wondered why the treasure had not been discovered when the mast had been raised, and why the corridor had not been populated before then. It would have made quite a cosy home out of the cold and the wind. It was much more spacious than some of the dwellings in Lower Quentaris.

She squeezed through the remaining gap and then looked behind her. From the outside the tunnel's entrance looked like a plain wall. She thrust her hand towards it, expecting it to pass through whatever illusion had been placed there to protect the entrance, but her knuckles struck stone. ‘Ow!’ she said, rubbing her grazed fingers.

It was impossible, she thought, carefully running her hand over the entrance, but it was solid. She didn't have time to think about that now. She had to find the hatchling before the City Watch and the marines, or any number of rogue bounty hunters.

Tab set off at a jog, heading back to the entrance to the dungeons where she expected to find her friends. She sent out thoughts, trying to determine which way the dragon went, swivelling her head this way and that.

All at once a piercing noise penetrated her skull and she doubled over, covering her ears with her hands, grunting with pain. The sound blast lasted a few seconds and then she was able to stand straight again. Tab felt a burning sensation on her thigh. She took the mood stone out of her pocket. At first she thought she had pulled out the wrong stone, because, instead of being a cloudy purple, it was an angry, pulsating green.

She heard footsteps, and shoved the gem in her pocket again. A marine, Verris's right-hand man, Borges, ran towards her, his face blanched white with panic. He stumbled on a cobblestone, and let out a girlish shriek. He thrust out his hands to steady himself, regained his balance and sprinted on, around the corner and out of sight.

Others came, each with the same look of horror on their faces. Then more still, rushing along the street – pushing the slower ones out of the way. Tab saw an older woman hit the wall not far from her. She scrabbled on her hands and knees for a few paces and then hauled herself up again, oblivious to the long gash in her shin.

Tab noticed a few trolls amongst the crowd too, their ugly faces drawn into a grimace. She shrank back, feeling the cool of the wall on her hands. It took a lot to frighten a troll.

The horrible screeching noise sounded again. Tab's stomach rolled over in a sickening lump. She steadied herself against the wall, sure that she was going to throw up.

The people in the street lurched at the sound too. Some of them were sick. The smell of it took a moment to reach her.

So, it's not just me, Tab thought. It's not inside my head.

The crowd started running again, citizens elbowing each other and shoving the smaller and weaker ones to the edges of the street. A child fell and her mother grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her along the street.

Tab heard Philmon's voice calling her name. She stood on tiptoes trying to see over the heads of the surging people, but she couldn't find him.

‘Tab! Over here!’ he called.

She saw an arm go up in the middle of the throng. She stepped forward and was swallowed into the tide. Several times her feet were stomped on, and she stumbled, pushing the person in front of her, trying to stay upright.

Philmon called her name again and again. Each time his voice was closer as he moved within the flow of people, as though he was crossing a fast-running river.

The whistling shriek sounded a third time. As one the crowd pitched. Tab could smell the vomit and hear the sound of stomachs heaving. Some Quentarans dropped to their knees, holding their ears, and were trampled. Tab held her sleeve over her mouth trying not to gag. Philmon grabbed her other arm. She took his hand, linked fingers and held on tight. Through the jostling pack she saw Amelia's face pinched and green on Philmon's other side.

The street reached a T-intersection and the crowd split. Amelia was dragged one way and Tab the other. Philmon stretched his arms as wide as he could. His hand slipped, and his new grip on Tab's wrist was painful.

She wrenched his hand. ‘This way!’ she insisted. ‘That way narrows. We would be crushed.’

Philmon's face strained with effort as he dragged Amelia from the mob.