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.
Horrible
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.
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.