He was meant to be the Dirge’s hostage but he didn’t look like he’d been kidnapped at all – his shirt was pressed and his face was clean. Seb reached for her arm. His hand was shaking. ‘Is that really him?’ Their dad disappeared behind a hanging bedsheet. Ivy tensed. ‘He’s moving away,’ she cried. ‘We mustn’t lose him.’ They ran past roll after roll of fabric. The air was thick with loose threads and dusty particles that caught at the back of Ivy’s throat, making her cough. ‘He’s turning left!’ Seb called. Ivy nodded. She tried to work out if there was anything different about her dad, but she was too far away to tell. Judging by his moderate pace, he wasn’t in any trouble. She didn’t understand . . . They turned down a deserted street, where their dad came to a halt between two large stone buildings. As Ivy and Seb approached, they heard a rumble. The cobbles beneath Ivy’s feet shook, as if the underguard’s horses were about to come pounding down the road.
