The three renewed their grip on each other's hands and ran through the wider street. The crowd had thinned a little, and soon they were able to dash along without fear of being separated, stepped on, or trampled.

‘What did you see?’ Tab asked. ‘What is that sound?’

‘Loraskians,’ Amelia panted. ‘They've boarded us.’

Philmon shook his head. ‘They're horrible!’

‘The sound – when you are close to them, it paralyses you,’ Amelia added, her eyes wide. ‘The City Watch – they're all frozen.’

The three friends came to another intersection and started heading towards the City Wall. Tab stopped. ‘Wait!’

She tilted her head to the side. The sound was faint at first. There it was again! The metallic gurgling, trilling noise, and something else too that she couldn't quite make out. It was a feeling that made her skin prickle.

‘This way.’ She directed her friends towards the City Gate.

‘Where are we going?’

‘It's the dragon,’ Amelia said.

‘Have we got time for that now?’ Philmon puffed.

‘Either way we will have to face the Loraskians,’ Tab told him. ‘We can do that with a baby dragon, or without one. Which would you prefer?’

‘I see your point.’ Philmon nodded.

They reached the wall. The Loraskian scream sounded again, but it was further away. It rang in Tab's ears, but didn't make her sick like it had before. She looked out over the small stretch of Barrenlands that ran alongside the western City Wall. She could see the dragon. It looked like a bird in the distance, flitting and bouncing along with its wings outstretched.

Tab's mind filled with images, similar to when she was in the secret room, dismembered limbs and spilled guts, steaming fresh blood – except this time it was no ox or bullock. The hide was cream and chocolate brown. The equen!

›››NO!

›››Hunger, hunger

She scrambled down the steps and wrenched at the great door, but it wouldn't budge. She threw herself at it, slapping it and clawing it with her fingers. ‘Philmon! Help me!’ she roared.

Amelia and Philmon ran to the guard's box and hauled at the chain that ran the counterweight. The immense door opened a fraction and Tab slipped through.

In the sandy ground ahead Tab could make out three sets of tracks. Two feet, Tattoo's hooves, and the intermittent, bouncing, bird-like tracks of the dragon. There was something else too, a long, winding snake-track. She followed with her eyes back to its source, a mass of rope and canvas tucked next to the City Wall. It took her a moment to remember – the sky-traders’ wing craft had been stacked there! The giant with six axes must have planned to use one to make his escape with Tattoo.

Tab sprinted, following the tracks across the Barrenlands towards the Drop-off. Her lungs burned with the strain and tears sprang to her eyes. She had to get there before the hatchling.

She could see shapes ahead, blurred through her tears.

Soon she was sobbing. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and kept running. Her legs trembled with fear and rage at what might happen to Tattoo. Her veins were full of adrenalin, and she couldn't see properly. The meaty, rancid smell in her nostrils blinded her with panic. Two images appeared in her mind, the shadows and the scavenjaws. These weren't her own feelings. She was receiving Tattoo's thoughts. At the same time she felt excited, victorious and ravenous, a hot joy, from the dragon.

The shapes were larger now. There were four, a stone's throw away from the Drop-off. One shape was the glider. She could make out Tattoo huddled half under the glider's wing – perhaps strapped to it. She pranced up and back, trying to free herself, tossing her head.

The baby dragon swooped and retreated – teasing, Tab felt, drawing the hunt out. It was very much like its mother, shimmering in green. It was graceful and beautiful.

But Fontagu's giant, who appeared to be grappling with the half-assembled glider, was not what she was expecting. He was much smaller, and there were no axes. He was just a boy.

His hair was chocolate brown and his skin a sandy colour, just like the herdsfolk Tattoo had shown her. All at once she remembered her impossible dream of the boy on the rope. He had climbed the anchor rope onto Quentaris from the world below to rescue his queen!

Giant with six axes indeed! She had known Fontagu was lying, but to be conquered by a child no bigger than herself? She shook her head.

She also realised that Chak had tried to trick her into arranging her release, when the information Tab needed – where the equens came from, was right beneath her feet all the time.

Tab staggered towards them. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but the contradictory emotions washed over her in successive waves of terror, craving, sorrow, destruction, panic, hunger. It was too much. Her ears began to ring. She saw spots in front of her eyes. She stumbled and fell. ‘No!’ she shouted, angry with herself. The dragon turned towards her, and bounced forward a few steps. It trilled playfully. Again she had the sensation that it was picking a word out of her mind.

›››Hunting?

It dipped down on its forelegs, as if inviting her to play.

›››I forbid you!

The dragon swivelled its head back and forth, measuring the distance between Tab and the equen, like a naughty puppy.

Something whizzed by her ear. She ducked, and fell again. The boy had a sling. He was shooting at her and the dragon.

›››Come here right now!

The baby dragon cooed, but she could still sense its cunning, trying to determine just how much it could get away with.

Tab closed her eyes and concentrated her thoughts.

The emotions from the two creatures were so strong, crushing against her, and she sweated with the strain. She held out a hand as though that could hold their minds back. Focusing on the air going in and out of her lungs, she thought anger, but most of all she thought shame and disgrace.

When she opened her eyes again the hatchling had lowered its head, shuffling from foot to foot.

The boy was still struggling with the glider. He looked over Tab's shoulder and suddenly worked faster. He seemed to have the last of the struts in place. He dragged the glider towards the Drop-off. Tattoo followed him reluctantly with the sling draped around her girth.

Tab turned around. Philmon and Amelia dashed across the sand. Behind them she could make out huge hulking silhouettes heading towards them.

The Loraskians screeched and Tab fell to her knees, shuddering against the sound. Her stomach lurched and she spat in the sand.

The boy slid, fell, clambered up, digging his bare heels into the sand, scrambling and running towards the Drop-off. She could hear him gasping and panting with strain as he dragged the glider. He looked over his shoulder once more and then he jumped. Tattoo resisted, but then the momentum lifted her off the ground and she too disappeared over the edge.

Tab looked ahead again. Amelia and Philmon leaned against each other for support. Amelia's back arched as she was sick.

The silhouettes were closer now. She could see the Loraskians’ massive, bulging, insect-like eyes. What appeared to be cloaks were actually folded, dusty wings, like moths. Tab had seen them before. She had seen them in her mind when she was in the tunnel.

Nearby the dragon snickered. It tittered and bounced, once, twice, and then it launched itself over the Drop-off – chasing the glider.

Tab took a deep breath, ready to call it back, but the Loraskians sounded again, and this time Tab collapsed.

Cold Stars

Tab awoke; at least she thought she did. She wasn't able to open her eyes or move her limbs. She could smell sour vomit all around her, and her tunic was cold, as though the sick had soaked in. It was hard to breathe and she felt a weight on her chest and legs. It was a horrifying, claustrophobic, panicky feeling, but she knew that losing her nerve wasn't going to help. She concentrated on breathing, like she had in the Barrenlands, until she felt calm again. Once her breathing was steady she sent out her thoughts.