Daine stumbles a little as Andrew suddenly jerks free, and there's an angry hiss from the other aisle. Coldfang, Daine replies, resisting the urge to turn around and check on Andrew lest she catch sight of the creature's eyes. They're thief-trackers, she adds, feeling a bit sick at the implications. She's no stranger to slavery, for all that she loathes the practice. Andrew is a person, but to the Master - and the Coldfang - he's stolen property. And she's the thief.

Climb on my back, quick! she urges. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see frost blooming along the spines of the books as the Coldfang drags itself down the adjacent aisle, its pace slow, but relentless.