adrigal took the lead as he knew a little of the town, guiding the group through dark, twisting alleys where beggars asked for change and evil eyes lurked in the shadows, gauging the strength of the group, wondering whether to attack. The two women, both wearing oversized hoods that completely hid their faces, were of special interest to the denizens of the dark shadows.

   What prevented an attack were Hartwell's uniform and Madrigal's size and grace. A rear attack was considered, but Fitch, striding along at the back, was a burly figure in the gloom, and again caution drove the rodents away.

   Eventually, the group reached an inn, much larger than the others and better lit. The battered, faded sign swinging over the door announced it to be The Devil's Head.

   "Charming," murmured Hartwell, looking at the sign.

   Madrigal shrugged. "This is where the sailors gather that want to find work on a ship. Everyone else sinks down and waits for death. Believe me, Captain Hartwell, this is the best place to find a willing crew."

   "Very well," replied Hartwell. "I think it best if I and Mister Fitch stay with the ladies, while you, Mister Madrigal, as you know the people, can make discreet enquiries and find us a crew. I'll engage a private room where we can talk to each applicant."

   "No Mister, just Madrigal," said Madrigal as they walked into the inn. "I'll get started straight away and meet up with you as soon as possible."

   After the dark night air, the flickering candles and oil lamps made the crew squint slightly as they walked into the building. Susanna tried looking around from under her hood and began to regret suggesting she and Mechatronic wear such clumsy headgear. It had seemed a good idea on the ship—the hood would help to hide the silver skin of Mechatronic and both women wearing them would look more natural than just the one.

   As such, Susanna could only manage a few glimpses of the inn. She got the impression of a large room with several iron chandeliers hanging down over the many battered, dirty tables, dribbling hot wax onto the clientele below. The tables around the edges of the room were long and rectangular, while those that stood in the middle were all circular. Each table was covered with tankards of every shape and size, as well as the odd plate of unwholesome-looking food.

   Opposite the door was the bar, which stretched fully half the length of the room. Women with painted faces and dirty corsets served frothing tankards of cheap beer, rum and gin to the customers, who drank them without much evidence of enjoyment. As they threaded their way through the crowd, Susanna caught glimpses of beards, three-cornered hats, open shirts, gold earrings, gold teeth, scars and a mismatch of clothes and styles going back at least a century, if not more.

   They reached an empty table and settled down. A serving woman, aged about fifty and with at least two of her own teeth, approached them with a leer. "What can I get for you, dearies?" she rasped, her voice floating in pure gin.

   "A bottle of rum and some glasses," replied Hartwell, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the noise of the other drinkers.

   "Right you are, dearie," said the woman, staggering off through the crowd to their right. After a brief pause, she reappeared from the left, startling them all, with a tray full of glasses and a single bottle of cheap rum which she managed to get onto the table at the second attempt.

   "Anything else you want, dearie?" she asked, more in hope than expectation.

   "We need to hire a room," replied Hartwell, his lips twitching slightly. He appreciated the woman's eternal optimism, even though the alcohol she had imbibed probably fuelled it.

   "Coo, you're a quick worker aren't you?" breathed the woman, raising the alcohol level considerably.

   "I'm afraid it is for business purposes," said Hartwell.

   "You sure?" asked the woman, hitching her bosom up a little higher, though she was fighting a losing battle with gravity.

   "Enchanted as I am by your kind offer, I must put business before pleasure," said Hartwell. And I'll run like bloody hell after the business has been concluded.

   "Aw, bless you, cuptain," slurred the woman. "You is a toff, you is a real gent and I'll see to it, cuptain, that you has a best room here, you leave it to old Ruby, cuptain, I'll see you right. You just follows me this way."

   "Thank you, Ruby, you are too kind."

   The group made their way behind the staggering woman, threading through the crowd toward the wooden stairs that led up to a balcony that ran around the building, offering access to the various rooms.

   "Here," muttered a sailor who somehow managed to look even rougher than the rest of the clientele. "There are two new strumpets going to the stairs. What say we go and introduce ourselves?" His companions leered in delight. They waited until the group was on the stairs before moving over and surrounding Lady Mechatronic, who had strayed to the back as she looked about her.

   "Good evening, my dear," smiled the sailor. "Now don't you make a noise or cry out, little lady, or else it will be the worse for you. You're going to slip away with us and before your friends even notice you're gone, we'll be out the back and enjoying ourselves and they won't even know where to look for you in this crowd of vipers. One scream and it's all over for you.

   "I like a woman well wrapped up," he added, looking at the long gloves and heavy hood that hid all of Mechatronic's silver skin. "It makes the unwrapping so much more enjoyable."

   Mechatronic turned slightly and drew back her hood just enough so that the man could see her face. "You scum," she hissed. Although her cold blue eyes burned into the sailor's terrified face, she was focused on the past as the man's tone and intentions stirred up yet more memories…

   The sailor's mouth flopped open and his colour drained to a pasty grey as he gazed in horror at the silver demon in front of him, until with a squeak of terror, he turned and fled. His friends followed close behind.

   Mechatronic adjusted her hood and followed the rest of the group up the stairs and into a side room containing a table and a few chairs, where she was just in time to see the barmaid make yet another play for the captain's attentions.

   "Sure you don't want a taste of old Ruby on account? I don't mind if your friends stay or go, old Ruby has done all shorts, I mean sorties, I mean sorts in her life, has old Ruby."

   "I'm sure and he does not want your attentions," snapped Mechatronic, emotions flooding through her at the sight of the woman pawing pathetically at Hartwell's blue coat. She was disturbed to identify jealousy as the primary feeling.

   "Ooh, listen to the cat's mother," slurred Ruby, staring in dislike at the hooded figure. "No need to get in a twist, dearie."

   "Perhaps we should sit down and wait for Madrigal?" said Susanna loudly, holding her hand out to Mechatronic. The silver woman crossed the room and sat down at the table, her eyes never leaving Ruby, who returned the stare in kind, reminding Susanna of two cats getting ready to fight. She was glad when a knock at the door interrupted the scene and Madrigal peered into the room. "I have the men, Captain," he said.