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pleasure. The creature made a final, heaving effort to move ahead and was thrown back with such force that the woman had to step aside to avoid being knocked over. It huddled into a ball and lay shivering and whimpering.
    “All right,” she said. “That’s enough for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.” She looked at the crow. “What do you think of that, Smedge?”
    The crow hopped from its perch, stirred up dust on the courtyard as it landed, spread its wings wide, crouched low and sent a long, croaking caw echoing from the thick stone walls. It shifted shape, taking on the form of a dog for a moment, and Smedge emerged from the process, shaking his shoulders and spitting out a black feather.
    “Don’t try those tricks with me,” said the woman. “Understand? I’ll know.”
    Smedge looked at the lumpish figure on the ground.
    “And get out of that stupid uniform,” she added.
    “Sorry, Ash.”
    Smedge closed his eyes and the uniform became a grey jerkin and leggings.
    “What’s happening with Bakkmann?” he asked.
    “You saw it yourself,” said Ash. “You were watching. She can get through the gate, just a little way. As far as the drawbridge.”
    “The sealing spell is broken?” asked Smedge.
    “Not broken. Melting. Dissolving. Fraying at the edges.”
    “Bakkmann didn’t go far,” said Smedge.
    “Far enough. It’s like a knot. When it’s tight there’s no shifting it. But once you begin to work it loose then it’ll get easier and easier, and then all of a sudden, its strength is gone and it slides undone. You just have to work it.”
    Bakkmann was scrabbling in the dust, standing up.
    “Can you go through?” asked Smedge.
    “No. Not at all.”
    “It hurts,” said Smedge, looking at the crouched form of Bakkmann.
    “You think the pain stops me?” said Ash.
    “No. Of course not.”
    Ash sneered at him. She stepped away and walked straight towards the gate. As soon as she reached the edge of the courtyard a clap like the slamming of a great door smashed the walls and a line of bright light whipped across her face. She flinched, stepped once more and was thrown back and sprawled at Smedge’s feet. Her face was bleeding from a deep cut. She stood, wiped her sleeve across her face and smiled. She was trembling.
    “I don’t mind the pain,” she said. “It’s the indignity. I won’t be a prisoner, not any more. I won’t.”
    Smedge was frightened of her ability to bear pain. He waited for her to speak.
    “Bakkmann first,” she said. “When she’s conquered the spell I’ll be next. And it’s weaker every day. Now, what are you doing here?”
    “It’s Tamrin,” said Smedge. “I got her expelled so the tailor came for her.”
    “The tailor,” she hissed. “So we know where he is now.”
    “Yes.”
    “Is he useful to us?”
    Smedge smiled.
    “He’s greedy and dishonest and cruel and sly.”
    “Good,” said Ash. “I like him already. But is he useful?”
    “I know more about Tamrin now,” said Smedge. “And she is the key to everything. Once we get her back, we’ll have won.”
    Ash stared at him.
    “Get her back?” she said. “What do you mean, get her back?”
    “She ran away,” said Smedge.
    “Where is she now?”
    “I’m not sure. She can’t have got far.”
    Bakkmann clattered a high, terrified wail and scuttled away on thin sharp legs.
    Ash slapped her hand across Smedge’s face. The boy felt a lash of flame on his cheek and then he was all fire, blazing like a torch in a dungeon. The pain consumed him. ||

T im was sorry to leave
    Vengeabil’s kitchen. It was the nearest thing to a real room in a real house that he had known since he was a tiny boy.
    “Come back and talk to me,” said Vengeabil. “You’ll know whether you can or not. Sometimes there’ll just be a wall with a curtain over it. Sometimes there’ll be a door behind the curtain.”
    “Thank you,” said Tim.
    He stopped and sniffed.
    “That smell’s here again,” he