Twelve-year-old Carmen has a secret: she can talk to her cat Grim. But the powerful Brotherhood has banned pets, and the penalty is death.
Ward is the most wanted boy in the world. The only thing standing between him and the hangman's noose is maste...
Despite the approaching storm the stalls were full. Ward felt a wave of déjà vu: the convicted husband and wife manacled before the scaffold, the line of archons perched upon the gibbet, the cages swinging ominously in the background, the electric charge in the air as the crowd's excitement grew, and the three Brothers in the front row, Tamerlane's face pale as the moon. Ward glanced to his left, half-expecting to see Nick there disguised as a bent old man, but it was only Mildew. Her face could be read like a book: Where are Carmen and Mildew?
Ward was surprised to spot Snapper in the stalls. Even from this distance Ward could see the horror on that great round face. Wrinkler and Lightfinger were weaving through the crowd at the head of a pack of filthy Scowerers. Now that they were here Ward wondered what good they could possibly do.
A portly man with a red nose sat beside the brothers. He wore a pristine red military uniform with gold stars on the lapels. He beamed. It seemed more a physical abnormality than a smile in that it never changed – though it was a wonderfully warm and fatherly smile, and everyone in the stalls who looked at him (and they often did) could not help but smile back. Ward recognised him from the statue in the Cathedral. It was Vernon Dervish: The Leader. He was surrounded by a phalanx of Reds in their scarlet uniforms, which stood out like drops of blood under the dull sky.
Ward had been humming the melody to himself all the way up from the Cathedral. He no longer needed the parchment – the strange shapes, resembling stick figures without arms, were imprinted on his memory. He was almost certain he had it now.
Concealed in the thick of the crowd he put the Oliphant to his lips and took a deep breath. At the first note, a hush fell over the square, and he sensed everyone in the crowd turn towards him. But he saw nothing. His eyes were closed.
When he played the melody now it was as if he were singing it at the top of his voice, and for the first time he was struck by its simple beauty, this music from long ago, written by a forgotten composer from a faraway place. He felt it in his throat. His scalp prickled with recognition. And as the final note echoed away across the ampitheatre to the river, he felt a sense of rightness about it, like when you turn a key in a well-oiled lock and the mechanism inside clicks into place.
He opened his eyes.
Horrified looks from all around him. Their dread seemed to rise from them like a fog, and they pulled instinctively away.
"Give it to me!" Mildew hissed.
"What?"
She didn't wait for him, but snatched the Oliphant out of his hands. She held it aloft and threw herself into the thick of the crowd. It parted around her like water.
"What are you doing?" Ward cried.
Tamerlane rose to his feet. "GET. THAT. GIRL!" he roared.
The Reds sprang towards Mildew, pushing through the crowd, bowling people over left and right.
Things happened very fast then.
Above the shouting of the crowd rose another sound, a great sussurating wave of noise that at first Ward couldn't identify. It was only when the sky grew dark overhead that he looked up and realised what it was.
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