Not long after passing out, Jett stirred and got up. "Jack, are you mad I lied? Thought you'd throw me off the ship if I told you."

Jack studied the map. "I would have. I still might."

Jett went to the window. He sat on the sill. It looked like his fever had already come down. It was probably a flare.

"My family and I went to the Gate of Danuvius to take the dragon's breath, but then the Enchantress cursed us. Everyone died and I'm next. Just been lucky to be alive for so long."

For so long? Jack stared at the boy, who might not be a boy after all. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Don't look like it."

"Everyone tells me." Jett had a smile playing on his lips. "They all say I look twelve."

Jack grunted in agreement. He had a young face, too. He knew what it was like to have a face that screamed disadvantage, but actually had lots of advantages. People would think you were innocent or pure, or maybe well-behaved and you could get away with doing bastard things behind their backs.

And then kill them while they're shocked. He gave a light chuckle.

Soon, the clouds broke below and the jagged mountain folds of Fairwicken came to an end, sloping down to the flatlands of Birdbury. Birdbury was the one and only place that, historically, used to bury their birds—prostitutes—instead of burning them like everywhere else. They had some strange sympathy towards women and men who sold their bodies when they died under the abusive hands of society.

It was nearly noon when Jack landed the airship, so few guards were there, guiding ships. Jack requested assistance with cargo and killed the man to steal his uniform and gave Jett his jacket.

"Unless you want to look like a slave."

"No, sirs. I don'ts, sirs," Jett said with a grin, reverting back to his ragamuffin-like bad pronunciations. Once he looked decent enough, Jack grabbed the bags and set off into Birdbury. 

At least it wasn't rainy and there was a healthy haze of smoke in the air. He decided to visit a mask shop later for Jett. It would only attract attention if Jett started coughing and then threw up blood. Besides, Jack could use a new mask being that sometimes people could recognize him with his mask.

The slight apprehension he had about Birdbury was that Minister Palestone of Endil often came this way for vacation or whatnot for some cousin or someone. Jack, in the midst of all that chaos yesterday couldn't remember if Palestone was alive or dead. He knew the man was shot in the leg, but not dead, the last he saw.

They crossed the landing port and came upon the arched copper gateway that had wires connecting to the towering cones of the city. Copper plates made up the cone buildings and giant round windows showed the insides of masks shops, tailors, smiths, and crafts. Jack found himself searching for 'the next big thing' even though he would never have the Kaleidoscope again.

The forest of copper cone buildings towered above with wires stretching every which way. Jack picked a good-enough mask shop and entered. The doorbell gave off a chime. Inside was a middle-aged man with a monocle sitting behind a desk piled high with paper. Jack whispered to Jett, "Find something you like. I'll distract him."

Jett opened his mouth in protest, but Jack pushed him to a rack of black masks with golden tassels. "Go make yourself busy, boy," he said.

"Looking for something in particular, sir?" The shopkeeper lifted his head from his work. Ten or so lanterns hovering on magnetic plates cast a golden glow on the shopkeeper's wrinkle-creased face. Jack made sure his eyes were smiling above his mask and went over to the desk.

"Name's Jack." He held out his hand. As if automatic response—luckily—the man shook his hand.

What a blasted common name. "Rudolf, what can I do for you?"

Jack grimaced under his mask. Common names came in handy.

"I was looking to get this upgraded, possibly to have some gold etched in the sides," He removed the mask and kept an eye on the man's expressions, "right here, and maybe shine it up here. How much would that be?"

I feel like I've seen that face. On the news.

He cleared his throat and the Rudolf blinked. "How much would that be?"

"Oh, yes, oh, let me see if I have the material." Rudolf went to the back. Jack eyed Jett across the way, slipping a mask into his jacket. He nonchalantly turned back and took a mask from the shelf, tried it on. It fit like a glove, but he knew these things stretched. Rudolf came back.

"Oh, that's not for sale," he said, "a new design I'm—"

Jack smiled and played with the silver tassels. "It fits like a glove though. I say, could I get this customed? Would you have the strap in blue? I have cash."

He doesn't look particularly rich. Rudolf furrowed his brows. "I see, well, I could," He paused, "Let me see your old one. I need to measure, may I borrow—"

"Please do. I'm in no rush." Jack let his eyes trail over to the other masks, some hanging from the ceiling. Rudolf went to the back again. While he was gone, Jack slipped the mask into his jacket.

"Rudolf!" he called, and Rudolf returned with Jack's mask. "I need to go, something's dire, I—" He leaned over and snatched the mask away. "I'll come back this evening. You have a splendid day," Jack smiled, "wonderful collection. Come on, boy!"

Jett hurried after him and they left the shop.

I swear I've seen him before.

Soon, Jack and Jett had their new masks on and weren't even stopped by the automaton police who went rushing past them to the mask shop. Jack's hand brushed against the left arm of a woman.

In bed with a criminal? she was thinking. I'd choose Jack Ogswold.

Dungs and apples. Jack pulled his arms in, but Birdbury was a crowded city. Left and right, he bumped into people as they weaved through the crowds looking for foodstops or somewhere to get water. More and more it was becoming harder to concentrate on his own thoughts.

Some drink is what I need.

Oh, my goodness! Why did no one know? He was Knave Diamondo?

I hate the king. There, I said it, in my mind, I hate him!

Tomatoes, cheese, onions. Tomatoes, cheese, onions. Tomatoes...

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb!

Why won't he pick up? Answer!

What now? The effin idiot!

"Dungs and apples!" Jack cursed and turned a corner into a gritty alleyway. He kept going, further away, further. But it wasn't enough! His head was hurting from all those emotions—happy, angry, frustrated, fretful, desperate, every emotion on this earth merged into one giant blob and bothered him. Jett was hurrying after him, but not saying a word.

Get out, get out! Jack could hardly tell if those thoughts were even his own. Sometimes his curse was convenient to manipulate the situation. Other times, it was a pain in the neck.

At last, he came to a dead end. Giant gray stone walls surrounded them on the left and right. Before them was a door with a skull painted on it. He knew his map. This was the end of Endil and the beginning to the barbaric lands, or so rumors said. When he opened it, stone stairs descended into increasing darkness. He set his bags down to peer inside. There was a whisper of a briny breeze. Did he hear voices?

"This isn't the Gate of Danuvius, is it?" he said.

"It's the Gate to Hell." Jett backed up. "We should go." He coughed once.

Well, he was probably right. Jack was getting thirsty, and they didn't have any water. He closed the door and turned his back. It flung open, hit him in the back of the head, and a thick burly arm grabbed him around the waist, pulling him backwards. Jett screamed his name as Jack fell into the darkness with someone. The door slammed shut and Jack was left in darkness.

But not for long. Lanterns flickered on one by one. On the sides of the stairs were people with hunched shoulders and thick limbs. Men and women began thumping their feet and chanting in a strange language as someone carried him down. 

Maybe Jack should have been worried, but he wasn't the least bit. He never doubted his skills against any foe. He could take on anything as long as he had sure footing.