By the time they entered the Craftmen district, the heat had subsided and evening was approaching. The carriage stopped and the cabman's bored voice rang out.

"Carpenter street, please."

"Out." Cyril looked at Clara grimly, picked up the basket, opened the door, and went down to the road.

Clara pouted when she realized that he would not offer her a hand, but quickly regained her contented expression and jumped down to the ground with her bare feet. She looked at Cyril in the evening gloom. It was getting dark. Cyril went up to the driver and began to talk about something. After a minute, he waved at her.

"I'm sorry." The girl sang, now skipping to keep up with Cyril. "I just wanted to be useful."

"I've already told you how you can benefit." Cyril snapped. "Don't get in my way. We're almost there."

"Why didn't we go by the cab so on?" She asked.

"Because you can't see a damn thing out of the window."

"What were you talking about? And who was this cabman? Do you know him? Oh, that woman! She sent him, didn't she?"

Clara peppered Cyril with questions, but he tried not to listen to her tweet. The cabman told him that the lady had invited him for a cup of tea in a couple of days. Cyril did not refuse, because he needed information, so he explained where to find the tavern. He could guess why the aging lady wanted him, but he didn't want to think about it.

Now the main thing is to get knowledge. He thought. I don't care how I'm going to do it.

They were walking along Carpenter street. To the left and right were mostly single-story buildings. A simple fence covered some of the courtyards, while other houses glittered with the gaudiness of poverty. Finally, ahead of him, he noticed a cluster of people, horses, and voices.

"This way." Cyril said.

"What's there?" Clara asked another question.

Before Cyril could respond, there was an explosion. A flash of light lit up the courtyard ahead, splinters flew into the air, and the horses whinnied and bolted.

"Out of the way!" Cyril shouted.

Cyril barely had time to press against the fence, sliding the basket between his legs and grabbing Clara with one hand. A frightened horse raced past.

"Cyril, I'm afraid!"

Two more horses followed the first, and then an old nag pulled an empty cart.

'What a pity, I can't die under those hooves.' Cyril thought.

"I didn't ask you to follow me." He said to Clara, getting up.

That's kind of explosion I need. The thought immediately flashed.

"Why are we going there?" Clara asked, afraid to get up.

"There's my hope." Cyril said, watching the people running toward them. "Grab the basket and let's go."

"Hope for what?"

"Stay close."

Clara snatched up the basket and, hurrying to press her body against his, took his arm. Unlike the last time, Cyril didn't push her away. He knew the crowd could knock her down.

Cyril kept to the edge of the road, a hundred paces from the explosion site. A dog barked behind the fence, and a second dog picked it up from the other side of the road. Soon the gloom was filled with barking, cursing from neighbors, and the screams of those fleeing the scene of the explosion.

"Devils! The devils have escaped!" A shaggy man screamed as he ran past.

"Holy Fate! Oh, no!" The old woman wailed, hurrying away.

"Has anyone seen the girl?" Someone asked.

"They got away first." Said another voice.

Apparently, there were more people tonight, who came to see the Hissing Chariot. More than Cyril had seen in the afternoon. People of different ages and classes ran away from the workshop, where they said the demons broke free.

Did the cauldron blow? Cyril thought.

He put his right arm around the trembling Clara, shielding her from the crowd, and hurried forward. A foreboding began to assail him.

Too big explosion. Fuck, hope he's alive.

As they drew closer, a moan joined the barking of the dogs. The last people were running away from the courtyard. If the neighboring houses were surrounded by fences, the mechanic's workshop was at a glance. A small house on the right was lit by a single window. Small buildings were lost in the dark depths. And in the middle of the courtyard was a huge hangar.

"Holy crap." Cyril said, looking at the torn roof of the hangar.

The ground around them was littered with shards of wood, metal, and...

"Cyril, there's a man in there." Clara whispered.

"I can see it." Cyril said grimly. A body lay a dozen meters to their left.

They came closer. A middle-aged man lay sprawled on the ground, his face smeared with dirt and soot.

"Is he dead?" Clara asked.

"Seems like." Cyril nodded. "At least it's not the mechanic."

"Do you often see death?" Clara looked at him.

There was fear in the girl's eyes, and excitement at the same time. She had seen this man kill three guards and Lady Oink, but she did not understand why she had trusted him instead of fleeing the bathhouse to tell the city guard. Now he seemed too calm again, with death feasting beside him.

"Only the last few days." Cyril said, shaking his head. "Let's go to the hangar."

Perhaps it was his calmness that had attracted Clara? She didn't know. She could only remember her mother's words: "when love comes, common sense goes away." The truth was, her mother was stabbed by her own husband after that, but Clara tried not to think about it.

"Fuck no!" Cyril shouted as soon as he entered the ruined hangar.

Clara fell behind as she thought. When she caught up with Cyril, she saw a more eerie scene in the hangar than outside.