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...
When he reached Flag Wood, Carmen was already there. She told him what she wanted to do. He argued passionately with her about it. Only when she threatened to go there alone did he grudgingly agree to accompany her. So they had set off, Grim stalking along up ahead.
They soon forgot about their argument, for they were each in a rush to tell the other all that had happened over the past week. Ward learned that Carmen's grandmere had once been Bareheep's most renowned criminal barrister. That such a person could exist outside the State's baleful influence and rigged courts was a wonder in and of itself. Grandmere was known to boast of the number of assassination attempts that had been made against her, and had for many years employed a mercenary, a formidable man by the name of Randall, to act as her bodyguard. Carmen had known none of this until her pere had told her the other day. Grandmere Anna had retired before Carmen was born.
"Did he say anything about Nick?" Ward said.
"No."
"They were friends, right? And Nick sent you to get your grandmere. Maybe she was the one who -"
"Dad doesn't like to talk about it."
The archon at the door, after ignoring their attempts to strike up a conversation, reluctantly granted them access. Its beak was clearly still burned from their last encounter.
Corvus's door was closed, but Ward could hear music from inside. It was like nothing he had ever heard: sweet and graceful, rising up onto delicate points, then dropping suddenly into lulling vales. Sometimes it sang out clear like a woman's voice; at others it chirred like a cicada on a summer's night. He didn't want it to stop, but when Carmen knocked on the door it broke off immediately. Ward's heart pounded in his chest as soft footsteps approached the door. It creaked open.
"Oh hello," Corvus said. "I've been expecting you." He smiled. Ward saw that the old man didn't have his staff. He hobbled without it.
"I hope we're not -" Carmen began.
"Not in the least. Oh you brought Grimalkin." The fel twined himself about the old man's legs and purred. Ludwig glared down from a bust of a serious-looking man on the mantelpiece.
A case was open on a side table. A peculiar musical instrument with four strings lay inside it, along with a stick with dozens of fine white hairs stretched along its length. Ward assumed it was the thing that had been making the music.
"You were expecting us?" Ward said, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
"I figured you'd have some questions for me," Corvus said. "And that you might wish to return something." He lowered himself onto an armchair. Grim sprang up onto one of the arms and settled there, his front paws tucked beneath his body like a sphinx, his eyes almost but not quite closed. Ludwig's glare intensified.
If Ward had any doubts Corvus had known they were coming, they were banished when he saw the blackleaf pot and three cups on the table before them. Corvus served the blackleaf. Soon there was only the sound of the crackling fire, and the thoughtful tick of a tempus on the mantelpiece. Ward saw that the picture they had removed from the wall had been reinstalled; he vaguely remembered leaving it in pieces on the table.
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