They travelled down the coast, stopping in sheltered coves to rest when tired. They slept four times before they came within sight of the city.

A great slice of grey stone jutted out of the sea at a shallow angle. It rose from the water, wide and flat at the base, narrowing to a tip that hovered impossibly, hundreds of meters above the water, as though the sea had grown a monstrous thorn.

As they got closer they could make out the buildings covering the surface like barnacles. There did not seem to be a place left that had not been built on. At some point people ran out of space and began building on top of the existing buildings, erecting wobbly wooden structures on the stone houses below.

On the shore was a bustling wooden fishing village, sitting half in the sea on wooden posts. They left the boat there with the platypus creature, who seemed happy to wait for them, swimming around near the boat and looking for fish. A busy stone bridge linked the fishing village to the rock. People of all shapes carrying packages, pulling carts, leading animals or leaning against the handrail to chat. Trix gazed up at the rock ahead. It rose smoothly into the sky, at an angle about as steep as a staircase, disappearing into a point what must be half a mile away. She wondered how deep it was thrust into the sea bed that it could hang there, levered out over the sea.

They crossed the bridge and reached the city proper. Streets split off in all directions, narrow roads cut into the rock, steps carved out where the way was steepest. Trix watched the houses as they passed, there seemed to be three layers: The oldest were little more than caves that had been cleared out and enclosed with smooth walls of rock. The next layer was built on the caves below, stone houses built at the same angle as the rock itself, erected at a time when the rock had lain flat. Above, the wooden houses were built level with the horizon, leaning out of line with from the older houses beneath. These seemed most recent and worst built, and the odd angle they made with the older buildings gave the illusion they could topple over at any second. Everywhere, the ground was terraced with decks and steps and ramps. The locals walked with practised ease, pushing past them as they danced up the steep path.

Trix followed Jeremiah who seemed content to follow the flow of people climbing upwards, leaning heavily on a stick under one arm. He was in high spirits, excited to be making progress, managing to walk faster than everyone else despite his single leg. Dean, especially was struggling with the climb. They descended beneath a house through a tunnel carved into the rock, re-emerging on a narrow bridge that crossed a deep gorge. At the bottom Trix could see more people, another layer of roads far below. The whole rock seemed to be a honeycomb of passages, basements and hidden rooms. She shivered at the thought of getting lost down there, in the brightly lit tunnels.

Half way up, the path opened into a big square. It was heavily slanted and had been terraced with wooden decking. The deck made a stepped area around which were clustered many tiny shops. Dean collapsed on one of the steps. "I'm going to rest here for a while, I'm not feeling too great."

"Ah, yes, perfect" said Jeremiah, "In that case I will have a look around and see if I can find anything useful for the ritual. Wait here." He hobbled toward a narrow shop selling twisted wooden roots polished to a high shine.

"Do you need a drink of water?" said Emma, crouching down next to Dean and feeling his forehead. "I'll see if I can find something for you."

Trix and Salome stayed with Dean while Wilbur and Emma pushed back into the crowd to look for a place to get some water. One side of the square was given other to a thicket of food stalls that filled the air with smoke and spice.

Emma passed a stall selling a flaky pancake stuffed with stewed fish and felt her stomach rumble. They hadn't eaten anything that tasted good since Earth. It looked like human food, and it smelled good, so it was probably safe. Should they buy something to eat, too?

She turned to Wilbur, "I just remembered that we're completely broke! What does money even look like in hell?"

They watched as someone ordered one of the pancakes. The seller held up two fingers and proffered a small silver spoon. The customer nodded but held up their own, similar looking spoon that was hanging from a chain around their neck. The seller squinted at the tiny silver spoon and then nodded. The customer dipped it into the bag and pulled out a spoonful of darkness: the same liquid like darkness Emma had seen in the tower and at Clifftown. The customer gave two of these spoonfuls to the seller, pouring them into a large jar that was sat on the counter.

"Oh! We're rich then" said Emma. They hurried back to where Dean, Trix and Salome were waiting.

"Salome, can you make some darkness in my pocket for me?" said Emma.

"Were you struck on your head while you were gone?" said Salome, without looking up.

"They use darkness for money" said Emma, "Please, come on, just make some in my pocket, we need to buy things."

"I think you mistake me for a chicken. I do not lay eggs for your convenience. I am not a resource to be used. It is revolting that you would--"

"Oh just hurry up and do it!" said Trix.

"Fine, but do not get used to this, I will not perform on command." Salome grumbled.

Salome stalked over to Emma and poked one paw against her shirt. Emma felt a chill and saw a cloud of darkness billow out to fill her pocket, overflowing and spilling out onto the ground. Their surroundings seemed to get quieter all of a sudden, missing a buzz of conversation she hadn't noticed until it stopped. She looked up and spotted a pair of men who had been sitting talking on the steps not far from them. They were looking at Salome in shock. She quickly stepped between them and the cat, turning her back and draping her shirt over the full pocket.

"Thank you Salome, you are most kind. Would you like me to get you anything from the market while I'm there, a snack?"

"No." said Salome, "I would not."

Emma and Wilbur returned to the market in high spirits and walked down the stalls buying far too much food. Emma was careful to only buy from stalls with other vaguely human customers. The fish pancake of course, then a skewer of unfamiliar meat spiced with petals from a musty peppery flower, stew in a thin terracotta bowl, a long cucumber-like vegetable that was sold on a stick with a vibrant blue dipping sauce, a large loaf of bread. They also bought a jug of water and another of a thin milky liquid from what seemed like the busiest stall in the market. They continued until the inside of Emma's pocket was brightly lit again.

They laid out their spread on the steps and gathered round, trying a nibble of each food before continuing. The milky drink proved very popular, everyone passing their jug around and taking deep gulps. Colour returned to Dean's face after a few drinks and he cheered up considerably and ate some bread. The beverage was slightly warm, sweet yet still refreshing, with a floral aftertaste, reminiscent of tea. Soon everyone was in high spirits, cheeks flushed as they chatted and laughed and ate.

They were enjoying themselves so much that they didn't notice the two men slip away. They didn't see them return with another man and a large bag embroidered with markings in red silk. They didn't even see the men when they began to sidle closer and closer, their eyes trained on Salome, their faces damp with nervous sweat. In fact it was only when they opened wide the bag and scooped it over Salome's head that anyone realised that something was going wrong.