Lucy took Kitty’s hand as though she’d known her all her life.
“We’ve managed to sort a few things out, haven’t we, Kitty?” said Lucy.
“Yes, dearie, we certainly have. Why don’t you and Bene wait outside and let me have a moment with Ned?”
Alone with the Farseer, Ned became completely tongue-tied. What do you say to a woman who could see the future and knew she was dying? But Kitty was having none of it.
“Now now, there’s no time for all that. I’ve always known it would be today, and in this lovely old bed,” she smiled. “Such is the way of it with Farseers.”
“That must have been horrible.”
“Actually it’s been rather pleasant, like meeting an old friend.”
“This is all my fault. We should have gone through the mirrors.”
“Nonsense, my weeping-willow. This bed, in this Keep, has been waiting for me since the beginning. Mirror or not, this is where I would have wound up.”
Ned felt a lump build in his throat.
“I’m going to miss you, you know, despite all your face-slapping!”
“Yes I do know rather, I’ve been in your head, dear, after all. The truth is, I’ve been inside a lot of heads, Ned, but yours is quite possibly my favourite, after my darling Benissimo, of course. He raised me, you know? Adopted me when I was a wee orphan. For all his blustering and chest-puffing, he’s the best man I’ve ever met. He’ll take my passing the worst.”
Ned was stunned. Kitty was to all intents and purposes Benissimo’s daughter. No wonder he’d looked so broken.
“Now, dearie,” Kitty continued. “About the Source …”
“We still don’t know where it is?”
“Actually we do, at least I do. The location was revealed in the pinstripes’ note from Madame Oublier, the one no one but I read. The Prime of the Twelve has been passing down that secret for generations. We decided it was best to keep it from anyone till the very last minute. There is the matter of the spy, dearie, after all.”
“But I still don’t know what it is we actually have to do?”
“Do? You have to give it your all, Ned, without fear or hesitation.”
Ned’s anxious mind immediately went back to St Clotilde’s, his fury, the dark voice that had called out to him. But all he said was, “I’ll try.”
She smiled at him gently with a hint of mischief. “You know, we do have time for a last reading.”
Ned was only too happy to oblige. He took her hand and held it up to his face.
“Ahh, there you are … yes, just as I thought.”
“What? What can you see?” said Ned nervously.
“Too much for my tired old lips to tell now, luvvie. But there is one thing … you’re going to be the first.”
“The first?”
“The first to realise the Engine’s true potential.”
“I don’t understand. What potential?”
“Look in the Manual, Ned. There are pages missing. Don’t worry, Lucy will show you the way, some day. Now, before you go, I have a little present for you. Gorrn? Show yourself, my love.”
A shadow on the floor pulled itself together beside them. The great bulbous familiar that was Gorrn looked at Ned with the smallest of eyes and formed a sort of smile from his curving darkness.
“Roo?” said Gorrn.
Ned didn’t know what to think.
“Err, hello Gorrn.”
“Arr,” said the creature.
“You should be flattered, dear. It was Gorrn’s idea. Familiars almost never change their masters, but I think he’s taken a shine to you. Look after him and he’ll look after you. If you’re ever in a pinch, ‘famil-ra-sa’ will bring him to you. Oh and be polite – they’re sticklers for a ‘please’ and a ‘thank you’.”
“So, where do I, er, keep him?”
“Ask him to hide, dear.”
“Err, Gorrn, would you mind hiding, please?”
“Arr,” said Gorrn.
And the creature dropped back down to floor level and joined with Ned’s shadow.
“Thank you, Kitty, and not just for Gorrn, for everything. It’s been an honour.” Ned sniffed.
“No, dearie, the honour’s been mine.”
***
Outside, Ned took a seat by a withdrawn Benissimo. They sat in silence while they waited for Kitty and Lucy to have a final talk. Minutes later, Benissimo jumped from his seat and reached for Kitty’s bedroom door, but by the time the Ringmaster’s hand had reached the handle, the Circus of Marvels had become something else, something less. Their Farseer was no more.
Kitty’s soul filled the room. It poured out of her like a tidal wave, rushing through walls, flowing down stairs and out into every corner of Theron’s Keep. Every man, woman and child in the building felt it. It was a last farewell to Benissimo’s merry band of oddities, a final goodbye from Kitty, their brightest star.
Some felt it as a happy memory, others as a warm whisper. To Ned it arrived as something between a hug and, rather weirdly, a slap to his face.
Lucy was sitting quietly by the witch’s side, a steady stream of tears pouring from her eyes.
“The Source is in Annapurna,” she said quietly as the Ringmaster stared down at his Kit-Kat’s lifeless body.
“And there’s something else. I don’t know how he knows, but your brother is already on the way there.”
The Show Must Go On
Switzerland was no stranger to rain, but the little town of Fessler had never seen such a downpour. It was as if Kitty’s passing had been felt in the sky. The Veil was almost out of time, but Benissimo, its most valiant protector, would go nowhere without his Kit-Kat being given the honours that she deserved. His troupe would just have to make up the time by not eating or sleeping until everything was ready. Besides, Barbarossa did not have Lucy – whom they now knew from the pinstripes’ note was the Source’s radar – so even if he knew roughly where to look, surely he would not find it before them. As the sun cast its final rays of the day, a magical shroud of black was created by the circus’s various magic casters. It covered the Keep and its grounds. Every item of clothing, every doorway or brick, every blade of grass and every leaf on every tree turned to a lightless black. There wasn’t a hint of colour anywhere.
It was customary for those that followed the wandering way to be buried where they’d drawn their last breath. Also in keeping with tradition, it was the Ringmaster who gave the service, and all of his troupe removed their glamours to mourn in their true form. Though all their clothes were black, Ned had never seen them look more colourful. Skins of every colour, adorned with feathers, scales or fur, some winged, some horned, some unfeasibly small or tall … the Circus of Marvels stood silent but proud in memory of its beloved Farseer. Lucy and Ned remained slightly apart as Rocky and George bore the hastily crafted coffin – adorned with Kitty’s favourite pink scarves – to the outskirts of Theron’s property. As they lowered her into the ground, the sobbing Guffstavson brothers unleashed a bolt of pure lightning that shot straight up into the clouds. Little splinters of electric blue light danced in the skies above their heads.
Beside Ned, Lucy was crying.
“You must think I’m ridiculous. I only met her last night,” she managed. In response, Ned just took her hand, as a lump gathered in his throat, the kind of lump that never leaves you, even once it’s gone.
***
Back at the Keep after the ceremony, nobody spoke. They were too heartbroken, and besides, there simply wasn’t time. At the very first glimmers of sunrise, they would be headed for the Annapurna mountain range in Nepal, and there was work to be done.
Annapurna was famed for being the most dangerous and challenging climb in the world and the troupe had all been working round the clock to assemble the needed provisions. The Tinker was being particularly industrious, retreating back to his van and bolting the door shut, despite Ned’s offer of help.
On the way up to his room, Ned passed Mrs C
ottlecot and her team of seamstresses, who were frantically making the high-altitude clothing Benissimo had ordered. The air in the corridor was thick with both grief and desperate urgency, mixed with something else. Mystero looked even more tense than usual, something Ned hadn’t thought possible. Anyone who crossed his path without a specific job or order was taken aside for questioning. Ned wished he could go and talk to Lucy or George, but the Engineer’s Manual beckoned. If anyone needed to prepare for their journey, it was Ned.
Whiskers sat on his shoulder and watched as Ned pored over the Manual’s complex notes, desperate to absorb as much as possible before their climb.
By now he’d practised Seeing and Telling a hundred times, and each creation he attempted was more complex than the next. Four pointed throwing stars attached themselves to spring-loaded daggers – created from only the atoms of air in the room and a handful of spoons – and at one point he forged himself a section of plate armour that moulded to his chest, but there was always something wrong, some detail overlooked or misinterpreted, and his frustration would then cause it all to fall apart. He HAD to be perfect – he had to follow the Manual to the letter; it was the only way to stop himself from being a liability to the others. But the harder he tried, the more he stumbled, till his concentration became undone and his hand burned. When his eyelids finally gave in, his mind was a jumble of muddled diagrams and half-remembered text.
As soon as he slept, and like so many nights before, he found himself in a wall of grey. But it was different to his other dreams. Gone were the acrid smells and menacing clouds. Here the grey fog was sweet scented and flowed peacefully around him. He walked through its layers till he saw a figure within a clearing.
“Hello, Ned,” said Lucy with a smile.
“Lucy? How did you get in here?”
“I’m always here; this is my dream.”
“How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know if I can explain it properly, I don’t really understand it myself. Why don’t you sit down?” she asked.
Ned sat himself down beside her.
“This is weird,” he said.
“I think everything’s been weird since you showed up,” smiled Lucy.
“I know, I can’t believe Kitty’s gone … I’m going to miss her.” He paused. “And I was hoping she’d be around to tell us exactly what we have to do when we get to the Source.”
“I don’t know that Kitty had all the answers, Ned. I think she just knew about people, and she seemed pretty sure about us working it out when the time comes.”
Lucy seemed so sure of herself. So unflustered about the task before them. Maybe it was because she’d known about her role in things for longer. But it wasn’t just the challenge ahead that worried Ned. Somewhere at the back of his mind lingered the worry that he might go mad – or bad – like the other Armstrongs had before him. He wanted to be an Armstrong, but the right sort. How he wished his dad was here – but there was still no news and deep down he wondered if there ever would be.
Just then he remembered what Kitty had told him about being the first and how Lucy would show him the way. He was about to ask her about this when, before he could say anything, Lucy’s face dropped and she suddenly looked very, very afraid.
“Ned, quickly, there’s something wrong, something really wrong!”
Her face was losing shape, what had been so full of light a second ago twisted to an oily black, spreading itself out to the dream around her. Everywhere Ned looked thunderous clouds began to form, till the dream had turned to a pitch-black nothing.
KABOOM.
Ned woke with a fright. The thunderbolt had broken just outside his window and it was still raining hard. He didn’t remember what he’d dreamt, only that Lucy was in terrible danger. He leapt to his feet and kicked George in the gut as he did so.
“Ouch! What was that for, you rotter?”
“George, get up! It’s Lucy, she’s in trouble!”
They raced up the stairs, the ape’s head sending chandeliers swinging wildly, as they smashed into walls, jumped over sleeping troupe members and skidded along the wooden corridors, before finally bursting in through Lucy’s door.
She was not alone. Standing over her sleeping body was a dark and crooked silhouette. It was Berthold, Theron’s right-hand man. He was holding a dusty old bottle in his hands and looked like he was pouring its contents into a jug by Lucy’s bedside. Before he could react a now raging George hurled himself across the room, knocking Berthold to the floor with a crash.
“Get your hands off me! Kra!” squawked Berthold indignantly.
George’s face had lost its bookishness; now there was only the animal and its bellowing angry chest.
“What were you doing?” demanded Ned as the ape held Berthold in his giant fists.
“Nothing! I was just doing my – Kra! – rounds. I-I thought she might be – Kra!– thirsty.”
With every sentence, the terrified Berthold managed to sound even more avian, till Ned realised that the man was actually crowing between words. Lucy was now very much awake and Whiskers had sprung into action, scrambling down from Ned’s shoulder and inspecting the butler’s fallen bottle. Seconds later a fuming Benissimo tore into the room, followed by his breathless head of security.
“What in the devil’s name is going on here,” Benissimo roared, “and why are there black feathers growing out of Berthold’s face?”
On Your Marks, Get Set …
Whiskers sniffed at the bottle Berthold had been carrying, then his eyes flashed repeatedly and he gave a squeak. Benissimo examined the evidence and his face darkened.
“Wormroot’s tonic; he was putting it in her water.”
Benissimo turned furiously on the now cowering servant, his whip coiled threateningly.
“Hades flames! Do you have any idea what this could have done to her?”
“It was the master, he ordered me to do it – Kra! – said it would be the end of our problems. They promised – Kra! – to give him back his magic. They told him if he could make you all forget your mission, then he could keep you, all of you. That is all he wants. He has so missed – Kra! – real people to keep him company.”
“Who promised? Who is they?” yelled Benissimo.
But Berthold was no longer listening. He started to scrape the floor with his feet, as if they’d sprouted talons.
“He meant no harm – Kra! – not really. You see, his house is also his prison, and it is a lonely one.”
Every inch of Berthold’s skin was now black with feathers and he seemed to be shrinking in George’s grip.
“The master’s last spell – it is lifting – Kra! – he must be in trouble – Kra! Please find him! Kra! Kra!”
And with one last squawk and a flapping of his arms, Berthold broke free and took flight, now fully transformed into an aged black crow. Whatever spells Theron had used before his incarceration were coming away everywhere. Two floors below the serving girls had turned to geese and one of the boys who’d brought in the milk had changed back to a bleating lamb.
“George, find Wormroot before it’s too late. Whoever has got to him must be our spy!”
But the ever anxious head of security was already half turned to mist and out the door before he could finish. George galloped after him at a pace.
Other than Ned and Lucy and George, only Mrs Cottlecot had at that time managed to retire for the night and fall asleep – the rest of the troupe still being hard at work – so hers was the only other water that Berthold had been able to tamper with. Mrs Cottlecot had woken some time later, turned on her light and taken a sip of water, and at the same time admired a blue scarf she’d made that lay by her bedside. As a result, she’d thankfully only forgotten one thing. Mrs Cottlecot had forgotten the colour blue. Not its name or its various shades, but the entire colour. As far as she was concerned, the sea was bright orange and the sky a pastel green.
***
Elsewhere, the spy had covered his or her
tracks perfectly. Mystero and George found Theron’s body in the cellars beneath the Keep, in much the same state that he’d found Abigail. Alone and frozen, with cheeks the colour of ash. As the Squire’s body failed, so too did his last spell; his staff had all now gone back to their natural state, and farmyard animals would be no help with the investigations.
Despite their collective broken hearts over Kitty’s passing, and the suspicion in the air, the troupe now banded together more tightly than ever. Any moment now the Veil would fall and their way of life, their very existence, rested in the hands of two children, brave enough, or fool enough, to try and save them. There were no rousing speeches, no cheers or clapping, just a rigorously wound troupe of men, women and oddities, frantic in their common goal – to get Ned and Lucy to the mountain.
Though the Glimmerman’s gateway was still intact, and Ignatius making a recovery, the nearest mirror for which he possessed a key was somewhere in India. By the time they could have organised suitable transport at the other end, the Veil would most likely have fallen. How they would catch up with Barbarossa at all was still a mystery to Ned, till he heard the cacophony of blaring engine that was … the Jenny.
The Jenny was Madame Oublier’s fastest airship, which she had sent along with a pilot and navigator. It was essentially an enormous engine, strapped to two thin, zeppelin-style balloons. It was a mass of brass tubing, exhaust pipes, pistons and fan belts and the kind of machine that Ned and his dad would have gawped at for hours. But today there was no time for gawping – there was only the mission and their rush to see it done.
The force was split into two expeditions. The first would travel in the high-speed Jenny the second would follow as quickly as they could in one of the bigger, repaired circus airships. Going ahead would be Ned, Lucy and the Ringmaster, along with George, Mystero, Finn and, rather oddly, the Tinker. The tiny minutian was almost never asked on missions, especially those involving any strenuous physical exercise. As they gathered by the Jenny, the first team’s members were almost unrecognisable, covered as they were in high-altitude gear. Ned was already streaming with sweat in his thick, fur-lined jacket. His arms, like the others’, were heavily laden with the boots, goggles, hats and scarves that Mrs Cottlecot had prepared, as well as their supplies and weaponry.
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