I do confess, I work all this out as I go. Having never met anyone like me, and knowing that my lord never found a mage who had heard of any like me, I craft what I may and pray that it works.

  “Achoo, dukduk,” I said after she finished slurping from the lowest dish in the fountain. I still feel silly when I give her that word to get her to sit. “Diamlah.” She sat, cocking her head as she watched me. I barely noticed that Pounce had appeared beside her.

  I opened the bag. Closing my eyes, I prayed to the Black God. It seems to me that he is the one I should speak to in these matters. If he claims the pigeons, and the ghosts, mayhap he governs the things of the air, like dust spinners. No one has ever told me he does not, in any event. This is the first time I asked him about it, though.

  “Great One, if you wish it, allow this spinner to grow high and strong like its brothers and sisters in the city,” I whispered. “Allow it to feed on and carry the air that blows here. And—whatever else seems fitting to you. Forgive me. I’ve never tried to talk like a priestess before. So mote it be.”

  Mayhap this is why priestesses and priests train for years, to talk so elegantly.

  I stepped into the heart of the spinner. It spread to fit around both of my feet, losing most of its height. Holding my bag at a slight angle, I narrowed my eyes against blowing dust and began to pour a thin stream of dust straight down into the spinner’s edge. I continued to pour until my bag was empty. All of the dust in it had gone into the spinner. None lay on the ground. Now I closed my eyes and, like a looby, lowered my hands to my hips and raised them slowly above my head.

  “Come up,” I whispered, hoping that no one could see me. I lowered and raised my hands twice more, because everyone knows these things work best in the Goddess’s threes. Twice more I whispered, “Come up,” hoping the spinner understood either my words or my thoughts.

  I waited. Then I heard the scratch of grit blowing over cloth. Slowly the hems of my tunic began to flutter and flap. I felt windblown dust on my hands. It moved no higher. At last I opened my eyes. The spinner had grown and widened. It spun now as high as my ribs, and it had picked up bits of twigs, cloth, and leaves from the riot. It was wider, too, wide enough to leave an inch of air around me.

  I closed my eyes once more and invited it to release whatever talk might have become trapped in its breezes. A roar exploded in my ears. I shrank, covering them, but the roar was in my head in truth. No amount of ear covering could stop it. The noise came from the riot. It sounded like a screaming monster made of human voices. I wondered if a spinner could go mad, but this one spun on, not even burdened by the roar.

  “—here. Right … here.” It was a mot’s voice, breathy, as if she carried sommat heavy. She was much closer than the roaring mob, and she was familiar.

  “Easy, Clary. Gods curse those two—what were they, oxen? Ahh!” It was Tunstall! It was Goodwin and Tunstall, when Tunstall got hurt.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Goodwin whispered. “Get your back against the fountain. Now easy. Easy—”

  And then silence. He must have sat on the spinner. I pulled my nails from my palms, where I was digging them, and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. I asked my little spinner if there was aught else she had for me. There was more roaring from the riot, and scraps after that.

  I was about to step from Raaashell’s hold—she had named herself while I took the word scraps from her—when I heard something new. I nearabout missed it, the voices were so soft.

  “—got to be here? What purpose does it serve—” It was a cove. I heard strain in his voice, like he bore a load.

  “Cork it! No names, are you cracked? She might catch them with her magic and then it’s the cages for us! You think you’d last against the Drink, or the hot irons? The rack?” This cove too sounded strained, and frightened.

  Neither of them said anything more. Raaashell had a few more scraps for me, but they were not like the last bit for importance. Either word was getting out among the Lower City Rats that someone had ears where they did not expect them, or someone who knew what I could do had given these Rats their orders. It was impossible to tell by what little I’d heard.

  I thanked Raaashell and stepped clear of her. Free of the burden of human words, she grew until she spun as high as my chest.

  Very fine work, Pounce said. You’ve thought about this a bit.

  “Some,” I told him, brushing myself off. “Achoo, bangkit.” She came over to me, frisking and wagging her tail. I looked at Pounce. “Any chance you’ll say where you’ve been?”

  Pounce met my eyes with his purple ones. It is the business of stars, Beka. Even if I spoke of it, you would not understand a word in five.

  We walked on out of the Nightmarket. I felt weak all over again, the result of helping a spinner to grow. We returned to our rooms for yet another poxy nap.

  I finished my nap, and did all of the offerings to the gods that I promised in return for their help in the last few days. That brought me to Holderman Square and a good-sized flock of pigeons.

  It was the rust-colored pigeon, the one that liked to sit between my feet and peck at corn, that carried the whining ghost.

  “How did I come here? Stupid mumpers, clingin’ to their coin. Time was, you beat a Dog well, folk bought your drink all sarden night. So I went out to take a piss, an’ it went dark, an’ … an’ they hit me. They kicked me, they beat me.”

  Another pigeon in black and gray fluttered down beside me. “Shut up,” its rider said. “Shut yer whinin’. Always ‘Poor me,’ always runnin’ t’ Ma.”

  I gently put more corn before me. “You were Geraint and Madon Pell in your life,” I said, keeping my voice down.

  “In my life?” cried the whiner. “In my life?”

  “You thought you were riding pigeon-back for a wager?” the surly one asked. “You thought this mot here were a giantess?”

  They both looked up at me, their birds’ eyes sharp and not quite pigeonly.

  “Do you know me?” I asked them, curious.

  “There’s a shinin’ about you,” the surly one told me. “Yer hands and face, they shine.”

  “Ah,” I said, and wondered if I should tell them who I was. It didn’t seem like it would do much good, and they still had information I wanted. “Who killed you?”

  “And how would we know that?” the surly one asked. “We was comin’ out of the alehouse, and I saw two coves I didn’t know pop a cloth over Geraint’s head. I’d not had even time t’ squeak afore someone put a pigsticker to my throat and told me t’ stand quiet whilst they did the same t’ me. The beat-in’ started once the cloth was tied around my head.”

  “I saw no more after they wrapped my head in cloth,” Geraint complained. “Did they beat me to death? We are poor folk! Who will get revenge for us?”

  “Well, the Dogs might,” I said. “Oh, wait! You half killed a Dog, didn’t you?”

  “Would’ve killed her all the way but for that curst hound of hers,” Madon Pell grumbled. “Rippin’ and tearin’, and makin’ enough noise to rouse the neighborhood. I shoulda hit Cooper harder, and then took care of that hound.”

  “You can do it now,” I told him sweetly. “Achoo, kemari”

  Achoo had been playing with some of the laundress’s children over by the fountain in the square. At my command she came galloping over, scattering the pigeons.

  “That’s the hound!” cried Geraint. “Gods save us, it’s going to kill us!”

  The brothers and the pigeons who carried them fled. I hugged Achoo about the neck and whispered to her, “You are so fierce. Yes, you are. You’re fierce enough to be a hunter.”

  We came home to rest again as I wrote in this journal. I felt guilty about the Pell brothers, but not guilty enough. I should want to tear up the earth to find their killers. I have done so for others, time and time again. It is very wrong of me that I have no wish to do so for them that bashed me about.

  I will work on that. I’ve another day before I return to duty, after all. Mayhap by then I can get more good information from the pigeons and other dust spinners.

  Strange. A messenger just came for me. I am to report to Sergeant Ahuda at six of the clock this very evening, after I see the healers for a last examination. I wonder what stirs?

  I must clean my uniform if I am to look presentable. I thank the gods that someone, Kora, I suspect, washed it after my mishap, or got me a new one.

  Midnight.

  Well.

  I hardly know what to think, my head is spinning so. It is not from injury or medicine. The chief of our kennel healers has pronounced me fit for duty, though she says I may yet have a headache or two. I had supper on the way home, so it is not for lack of a meal, either. Mayhap it is from too much thinking?

  I dither.

  * * *

  I wasn’t certain that I should bring Achoo to the meeting with Ahuda after my examination, but I am an official handler of a scent hound now. Pounce too insisted on coming with me. I knew better than to say no. He would just magic himself in otherwise.

  The walk to the kennel was a good one. Autumn is my favorite season. The cool breezes blow the collected summer stinks from the streets and alleys. The sky is the brightest color of blue, and the harvest is coming in, such as it is. We can gather it, cook it up, store it, and pray that it will be enough. And we can sleep our nights through, not waking because it is too hot to sleep. I am sure summer has yet a little more misery to send to us, so I enjoy this taste of autumn while it’s offered.

  The Daymarket clock was striking six of the evening exactly when I finished with the healers and took Achoo and Pounce into the kennel’s muster room. Goodwin was there, lounging on the side of Ahuda’s desk, deep in talk with her. I’d expected Goodwin to be out on patrol with another pair. She held a sheaf of papers in her hand.

  Ahuda saw me first. “Good, you’re here, and on time. We can’t keep them waiting.”

  Goodwin inspected me. “Better and better,” she told me with approval. “Achoo looks well, too. Master Pounce, you are always elegant.”

  “Did you expect anything different?” Ahuda asked, poking Goodwin’s head. She turned to look behind her. “Karel, take the desk for me.”

  Corporal Karel normally roamed to make sure all the patrols and cage wagons were in their rightful places. Tonight he was still there to take over after Sergeant Ahuda climbed down from her tall seat. I tried not to stare. I knew there had to be times she left her place once the watch began. She is human, after all. I am nearly certain of it. But the desk looked funny, with Karel up there and Ahuda standing beside Goodwin.

  “Let’s go, Cooper,” Ahuda ordered. She took some papers from a shelf under the desk. “Is Achoo trained? If you tell her to sit and be quiet, she will do just that?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” I replied. “She’s trained me well.”

  “Good. You haven’t been to a meeting like this. No slipups, understand? The cat stays outside. Bringing your pet will reflect on Goodwin and me.” She did not lead us into the Watch Commander’s office, as I expected. Instead we went up the narrow stairway at the back of the muster room, next to the hall that led to the cages. I’d never been up those steps, had never cared to climb them. All that was up here was more cages, storerooms, and a large meeting room.

  Ahuda took us to that door.

  I will not wait outside, Pounce declared. It is not what I expect, nor what my dignity deserves, Kebibi Ahuda.

  Ahuda jumped. I was startled to realize that Pounce has never spoken to her before. She’d have heard he can talk, though. Ahuda hears about everything.

  She recovered quickly. “I will no more tolerate disrespect from you than I will one of my own Dogs, Master Saucebox,” she warned. “If you come in, you are to be quiet and well behaved.”

  I am a cat, he replied. It stands to reason I will be quiet and well behaved.

  Goodwin put her hand on the door latch. “And here we go,” she said. She opened the door.

  The room within was big and plain, with a big, plain table and chairs at its center. Windows set in the walls would admit daylight when open, but with twilight setting in, branches of candles were lit and set on the table.

  My lord Gershom of Haryse, the Lord Provost, sat at the head of the table. He was very much the great man tonight, his tunic gray silk brocade, his cloak ruby silk trimmed in gold braid. A gold and silver brooch held the cloak at his shoulder. His long silver hair was pinned back with a matching gold and silver clasp. He even wore a round cap, crimson silk within and along the upturned rim, and gold-stamped leather above. For him to be dressed so splendid, he had to be attending some engagement of the nobility, something for which Lady Teodorie had dressed him special. She would be furious if he got Lower City muck on his grand clothes.

  Sir Vannic haMinch, the District Commander for the Lower City and Watch Commander for Day Watch, was there. He was a redheaded cove with blue eyes and peppery ways. He wore his tunics like someone else picked them out and he wanted to wear them down so he might choose the replacements himself. He’d been a great fighter in his younger days, I’m told, but if he’d been so good, why give him the Lower City and the Dogs for his older years?

  Sir Acton of Fenrigh, Commander of the Evening Watch and my own Commander, was present. He is a plain man of middling build who dresses plainly for work. Tonight he wore a brown wool tunic with an embroidered neck band, and a second band of embroideries down the front, over his right side. I saw the signs for peace and calm among the vines that were embroidered on his clothes, but they were well worked in. I understood why he might hope for those things on his watch, so soon after the Bread Riot. He nodded to us.

  I knew the fourth cove, too, though I was shocked to see him here. I forgot myself and outright grinned at Sergeant Nestor Haryse of Port Caynn. Nestor is a cousin of Lord Gershom’s on the wrong side of the blanket, his mother being a peasant mot my lord’s father had kept for a mistress on their home estates. My lord is patron and friend to Nestor despite the ten-odd years’ difference between them, for good reasons. Nestor is the only one of Lord Gershom’s family who has any liking for the Dog’s trade.

  I knew Nestor from my lord’s house. He often took the half-day’s journey from Port Caynn to visit his noble cousin in Corus. When I was fourteen, I had wanted so badly to marry Nestor one day. I had plenty of company among the maids. Nestor is but an inch taller than me, built on a stocky and muscled frame, with hands that are big enough to crush melons. His curly brown hair has a gold shine to it and his short beard is a little darker. He’s got a long nose that’s only a bit bent in two places, which is good for a Dog who’s served twelve year. He’s got dark, blue-gray eyes that carry his sense of humor readily. What I like best about him is his voice. To me it’s like dark, warm smoke, very easy to listen to.

  Sadly for my wedding plans, I learned that Nestor is a bar-dash. I envy the men who have enjoyed his favors. He has always treated me with friendship, which I value now more than my old romantic feelings, and he gave me every encouragement to become a Dog. Now he winked at me.

  Jewel and Yoav were present. They held the same sheaf of papers that Goodwin and Ahuda did. So too did Nestor and the nobles. There were wineglasses set before every place, including the three empty seats. Bottles stood at the head and foot of the table. Platters of cheese, bread, egg pastries, and almond fritters were set on the table as well. What kind of meeting was this?

  “Now that we’re all present, I would like to get this meeting under way,” my lord Gershom said. “Sergeant Ahuda, Corporal Goodwin, Cooper, please take a seat. Cooper, are you able to take notes?”

  I had seen the paper, pens, and ink bottle at one of the empty places. “I am, my Lord Provost.”

  “Then if you will perform that service for us?” my lord asked. “How are you, Cooper?”

  I glanced up at him and smiled. “Very well, my lord. I am cleared for duty,” I said, and looked down at the paper and pens. I hoped he didn’t ask me anything else in front of all of these people. I looked at Achoo. “Turun,” I whispered. She lay down behind my chair. Pounce walked over to Goodwin and curled up in her lap. Goodwin stared at him for a moment. I think she actually blushed with pleasure.

  Lord Gershom reached down and brought out his battered leather pouch. I knew it well. When I was small, it was one of my tasks to keep it clean and polished. I remember working dirt out of the stitching with a little pick, then buffing the leather to a fine, warm glow with all the strength in my arms. My heart pinched me as I wondered, Who cleans it for him now? Whoever it might be, he or she didn’t have my way with the buffing cloth.

  My lord opened the pouch and removed several thick bundles of paper. Two he passed to Sir Vannic and Sir Acton. Two more he gave to Nestor. “Senior Corporal Guardsman Jewel brought this document to me yesterday. I had it copied for the eyes of all of the Watch Commanders of the city,” he told them. “Sergeant Haryse, one is for you, and the other is for Deputy Provost Sir Lionel of Trebond in Port Caynn.” Lord Gershom watched Sir Vannic, Sir Acton, and Nestor as they glanced through the pages, his eyes sharp under their shaggy gray brows. “The work was done by a number of Evening Watch Dog teams in the Lower City District and Flash District. Jewel compiled their reports and brought the results to me. It’s a hunt they pursued on watch and on their own time over the last week, following rumors and reports they picked up. Ahuda approved the work, Acton. Jewel, Yoav, Goodwin, and Cooper were among those who took part in the collection of this information.”

  For a long time the room was silent as the two Watch Commanders and Nestor read. Quietly Yoav poured cups of wine for Ahuda, Goodwin, and me. Jewel filled plates with some of the food from the table and set it before us, just as quietly. I touched none of it. My mouth was stuck together, it was so dry with nervousness. I wanted to hide under the table. This was far worse than being in Sir Tullus’s court.