The Chemickal Marriage

hanging over the edge of such a wicked drop. Nevertheless, she ran as instructed and was rewarded by an iron ladder on the far side of the rail. She climbed down, the dizzying abyss of dark water answered by a small platform five steps below, and smiled at Chang’s cunning. A narrow catwalk extended under the bridge all the way to the river wall – to aid repairs, she assumed – which would allow them to pass unseen beneath the sentries. At a tremulous whisper from Francesca, Miss Temple rescaled the ladder and brought the girl down, then helped Svenson, whose passage was every bit as tentative. She heard the crash of breaking glass above them – and then a piercing shout.
    ‘Fire! Fire on the bridge!
    The alarm spread in a roar through the soldiers. Chang vaulted the railing and landed beside them like a cat.
    ‘Go! Go!’ he hissed, and drove them on, bent low.
    ‘You
threw
the lantern!’ whispered Svenson.
    ‘No drawing moths without a flame, Doctor. Quiet now …’
    The catwalk dead-ended at the bridge wall, high above the riverfront. The cordon lay right over their heads. The citizens demanding passage had been shouted to silence by the officer in charge.
    ‘A lantern, by God. Get men searching! Enough of this nonsense!’
    The officer broke off, railing at someone in the crowd hoping to slip past, and his sergeants began to detail the men to search. Soldiers would appear at the ladder, and on their catwalk, and soon.
    ‘We appear to be trapped,’ Svenson whispered, readying his pistol.
    Miss Temple hurried to the inner rail. They were no longer above the water, but this meant they faced a prodigious drop to the stone bankside.What had Chang said about the old Norwalk? That the bridge and the buildings around it had been raised on the foundation of the old fortress … she leant over the rail. A firm hand caught her shoulder.
    ‘What are you playing at?’ snarled Chang.
    ‘I am looking at the wall. It is your fortress – look for yourself.’
    Chang peered over the rail, then whipped off his glasses. ‘I can’t see a damned thing.’
    ‘There are old windows,’ said Miss Temple. ‘Or not windows but whatsits – slitty bits of stonework, for arrows – your old fortifications –’
    ‘She’s right.’ Svenson had taken Chang’s place with an uncomfortable swallow. ‘But it’s yards away – we’ve no rope, we cannot reach it.’
    ‘Of course we can’t reach
that
one,’ said Miss Temple.
    ‘Celeste –’
    ‘There is a
line
of them. If they extend away from us, then there must
also
be one directly beneath our feet!’
    Miss Temple began to hike up her dress, but Chang thrust her aside and quickly dropped from view, hanging by his arms. At once he came back.
    ‘It is no more than climbing down from a coach. Hand me the child first …’
    The far end of the catwalk echoed as soldiers landed on the planking. Miss Temple and the others sank to their knees.
    ‘The girl!’ hissed Chang, invisible below them. Svenson lifted Francesca over the rail so her legs dangled. The child said nothing, face pinched and white, when Chang’s hands shot out and seized her waist. Miss Temple pushed Svenson to the rail and he flung himself over, knobbed fingers squeezed tight. Chang’s arms reached for the Doctor’s kicking legs.
    The soldiers came nearer, playing their lanterns along the girded undercarriage of the bridge. Miss Temple slipped over in silence, sliding down until her hands were out of view, grasping the lowest edge of the catwalk. She hung in place.
    Above her lantern light danced across where she’d stood. Sentries patrolled the bankside below. If even one soldier noticed the lights and looked up, she would be found. A gloved hand caught Miss Temple’s foot and another her waist, and then both hands squeezed, a sign she should letgo. Soldiers stood directly above her. She opened her hands. For an instant it did not seem as if Chang could bear her weight, but then his hands were joined by the Doctor’s and she felt herself pulled through a crusted opening of stone.
    ‘It stinks of birds.’ Miss Temple rapped her boot against the wall, knocking away the clotted grime. The soldiers had moved on after finding the catwalk empty, and they were able to talk.
    ‘Better birds than vagrant beggers,’ replied Chang.
    ‘I would not think a soul has been here since the bridge was built.’ Svenson held Miss Temple’s beeswax stub above his head and studied the walls. Beyond the