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...
As a boy called Ward was clambering out of a sea chest and laying eyes on Bareheep for the first time, Carmen was sitting down to morning tea with her family. Her mere had forced her into her best dress (why can't I wear pants Mere?) and brushed some of the tangles out of her hair, but her nails were dirty and her knees scraped.
By comparison, her twin cousins, Daphne and Clarence Blanket, were immaculate. Their ginger hair was cut in an identical style (as if a bowl had been placed over their heads and scissors run around the edge), and even their clothing matched, for the Blankets subscribed to the consensus that boys and girls were, for all practical purposes, the same thing. Carmen's uncle, Franklin Blanket, beamed across the table at them.
Janice Blanket, Carmen's aunt, didn't beam at anybody. After all, it takes great concentration to talk to two other people without allowing them to say anything back, and although Mrs Blanket had a superhuman talent for this, it nevertheless occupied her full attention.
"We were certain you wouldn't mind if we dropped by," she said. "Isn't that right Franklin?" She didn't wait for an answer, but turned to her sister-in-law: "Oh Evie, do you have any of those honey cakes dear? The children are famished – thank you – as I was saying, we were on our way to the Derricks to watch it, and thought you might like to join us – well when I say we were on our way, it required a considerable detour on our part, but here we are just the same."
"I don't believe you've ever seen one," said Mr Blanket pointedly.
"We have other plans," Carmen's mere said. "Besides, it's not something I want Carmen to witness."
"Clarence and Daphne have seen three now, haven't they dear?" Mrs Blanket said to her husband. The Blanket children nodded in unison together, as if attached to a camshaft, their eyes goggling and watering (they seemed never to blink).
"They're Carmen's age," Mr Blanket said, "and just look how well-adjusted they are."
As if to demonstrate this careful adjustment, Clarence and Daphne continued to goggle and nod in unison.
"Once she turns seventeen Carmen will be free to witness whatever obscenities she likes," Carmen's mere said. "Until that time -"
"Evie," Carmen's pere said softly.
Mr and Mrs Blanket seemed not to have heard.
"Another cup of blackleaf would be lovely," Mrs Blanket said, gracefully changing the subject, "unless it's too much trouble – and may I have three sugars this time? You know what a sweet tooth I am." She let out a high tittering laugh.
Mr Blanket chimed in. "Now dear, not everyone has endless supplies of sugar." He smiled benignly at Carmen's mere, who replied to this sentiment by explaining that there was, in fact, plenty of sugar in the house, and went to get it.
"Who are they hanging?" Carmen's pere said.
"Stephanie and Anders Jamieson," Mr Blanket said.
Carmen's mere stopped in the doorway. "Stephanie?"
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A book is like an orange. First, you have the skin, then the sweet, sweet innards.
