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...
"The Sleepers -" Ward looked up. "They aren't demons then?"
Corvus shook his head. "A thousand years ago a series of very strange experiments was carried out. The people who performed these experiments were called scientists."
Ward had heard of scientists: they were the people who tried to turn lead into gold. Nobody engaged in such foolishness anymore.
"The Reversers were created from these experiments," Corvus said. "Their descendants survive to this day. As were the Dolittlers. Over time, the descendants of the original Dolittlers forgot how to communicate with animals. Only a few are now left who remember."
"Like you," Ward said. "And Carmen."
"Yes. In most people the part of the brain that enables it went dormant. It slept. This may have ensured their survival – after all, the Brotherhood feared the Dolittlers much as they did the Reversers, and persecuted them horribly."
"But then I woke them up," Ward said.
"Momentarily."
"With music?"
"Why does that surprise you? Music has great power. And perhaps, in a society that suppresses it, even greater. But you're right, there's more to this. In their experiments the scientists used music – a particular melody – to trigger this ability to communicate with animals. A clever man called Pavlov did a similar thing once with dogs. He would ring a bell, then feed the dogs. The dogs came to associate the bell with food, so that whenever he rang the bell they would begin to drool. The scientists could have used any piece of music to achieve this. But they chose this one." He indicated the piece of parchment. "What they didn't predict was that the change would be permanent. The subjects in the experiment became Dolittlers for life. What's more, their descendants did too. It is what we call hereditary."
"So anyone could have played it?" Ward said. "It didn't have to be me?"
Corvus nodded.
Ward felt something the size of a cannon ball slide off his chest. He had not realised how much the prophecy had been weighing on him.
"And the Oliphant?" Carmen said.
"Now that is special," Corvus said. "It's the original flute used in the experiments. I don't believe any other instrument would have had nearly as strong an effect. It has a unique tone and timbre. It is this as much as the melody that elicits the response."
"Did the crowd tell the animals to do that?" Ward said. "To peck through the ropes? To attack the Reds?"
Now Carmen shook her head. "It's not like that, Ward. I can't really tell Grim what to do – he's too stubborn anyway. But I can suggest things to him. If he thinks it's a good idea he might do it. And he can do the same with me. I'm not his master, and he's not mine."
"I couldn't have put it better myself," Corvus said.
"Why did they go back to sleep though?" Ward said.
"That I don't know," Corvus said. "Perhaps, once you've been woken, it takes too much effort to stay awake. The state that allows us to communicate in this way is not dissimilar to meditation, which also takes practice. If, like Carmen, you've been doing it all your life, it feels natural, and comes easy. But think about it. If you suddenly started hearing voices in your head, how would you react? You would panic and try to shut them out."
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