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...
He found Lightfinger alone in the Okies' common room.
"Hey Lightie, look at this." He took the toy from the bag. Lightfinger's mouth fell open in a silent O. He reached out for it, then stopped and looking inquiringly up at Ward.
"Go on."
Lightfinger picked it up. He ran his finger down its back, then turned it over in his hands. He pressed something between its forelegs, and they both started as the creature began to move, its long, unwieldy proboscis curling, its head shaking from side to side. Lightfinger placed it on a table and they watched it pitch about for a while. Soon its movement slowed. Then it stopped altogether. Ward pressed the button again but nothing happened.
"It must have a winder somewhere, like a tempus," he said.
"Under the flap on its belly," someone else said.
Ward whipped around to find Nick standing behind them, looking over their shoulders at the toy. Ward had no idea how he had crept up on them. He had evaded even Lightfinger's keen senses.
Nick picked up the toy. A brief look of sadness passed over his face, like a cloud crossing the sun, then he turned the creature over and pushed at the space between its forelegs; the flap that popped open at his touch had been so artfully cut that it was virtually invisible. Ward wondered how Nick had known it was there. Inside was a key, which Nick turned several times, before closing the flap again, pressing the button, and placing the reanimated creature back on the table. The three of them watched it in silence for a while.
Then Nick turned to Lightfinger. "Birch is in Nine Southwest. He needs a tinder box."
Lightfinger saluted, somewhat less sloppily than other Scowerers, and left the room.
"Ward, follow me. Bring that." He turned and swept out.
Ward pushed the toy back inside the bag and hurried after Nick.
They descended to the Cathedral, then entered a dark tunnel that appeared to belong to none of the clans. The lanthorn Nick had taken from the tunnel mouth cast dancing shadows across the walls.
They had been walking for a few minutes when Nick stopped and held up the lamp. It illuminated a stone carving of a wolf with bared teeth and a curiously elongated nose. Nick turned his back on the wolf and pushed at the opposite wall of the tunnel. It swung in like a door. He vanished into the dark space beyond.
"Please close the door behind you," he said from out of the darkness, "the damp affects my papers."
Ward pulled the door closed. It moved smoothly despite its obvious weight, snicking shut in a satisfying way.
The room he found himself in was small, lit by a single lanthorn. There was a desk scattered with piles of papers, inkwells, pens. Several dark overstuffed armchairs stood about. A bookcase that reached the ceiling, stuffed with volumes, took up the entire back wall; Ward gazed upon it with a mixture of fear and awe. A narrow staircase ascended to what he assumed were Nick's living quarters. A map of the city, no doubt stolen from some government surveyor's office, covered the wall to Ward's left; superimposed over it in pen was a bafflingly complex network of tunnels, marked with tiny handwritten titles. Ward realised for the first time just how big Nick's empire was. He stepped towards it for a closer look, but Nick interrupted him.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Vote and ye shalt be blessed; vote not and thou shalt be cast into the pit, with the lamenting and gnashing of teeth etc.
