lucky turn of events. Tell me, does he know?”
“Not all of it, no. Bene has kept nearly everyone in the dark for fear of your watchful eyes.”
“And fear them he should!”
“How shall we proceed?” asked the spy from his shadow.
“Everything depends on the boy’s key. I believe it always has. Do you remember the tale of the Parnifer tree?”
“Vaguely.”
“You of all creatures should. In the story, the King’s son was taken by a terrible affliction and could not be woken. The King cried for a hundred days and a hundred nights, till his tears formed a river. By its banks, a tree sprang up from the ground.”
“The Parnifer tree.”
“Precisely. They say a single seed from the tree’s fruit could cure anything. The girl is like the seed. If she were to meet with the Engineer …”
The master put down his knife, before crushing the apple in his fist, its wet pulpy flesh oozing through his fingers.
“The seed, must, be, crushed. I’ll send the devil himself if I have to.” He gazed for a moment at the fruit falling from his hand. “In the meantime, we’ll be needing some leverage. With the boy’s spirit-knot and enough time, we could do extraordinary things. I’ll leave that up to you. Watch, observe, slow them down if you can. When the moment is right, we’ll make our move.”
And with a silent nod, the spy melted into the shadows and returned from where he came.
There was all-round whooping and hollering and a happy trumpeting from Alice as the Circus of Marvels readied itself for departure. According to the Tinker, they always did their real travelling at night. When Ned stepped outside, he could see why. The very same fog that had rolled into Grittlesby had followed them again across the sea. Through the layers of rolling grey he saw the circus’s big top. Its red and white striped canvas was bulging as if it were about to burst, making it more than twice its normal size.
Even stranger though was the fact that the big top seemed to be floating thirty feet off the ground, as if it were some sort of hot-air balloon … Then Ned saw them through the fog …
Hanging from the big top, suspended in the air, was a series of buses and caravans that had all been joined together. Some were inside out, and others bent in half, all forming a huge metal gondola more than three storeys high through the middle and four at the back. It was all tethered together with great bars of steel and knots of iron rope. Walkways taken from the big top’s inner seating ran all over its hull, and Ned could see crewmen running along the upper deck, checking its rigging and shouting to one another over the roar of the engines. Not for the first time that day, Ned stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed, gawping up at this great metallic beast as against all odds it rose up through the fog. It was the stuff of dreams, a marvel of engineering, and Ned was lost in its every detail.
“Come on, josser, don’t just stand there! Wind’s about to change!” yelled Benissimo.
Ned’s body suddenly drained of blood as he was marched up a narrow walkway and into the airship’s belly. Inside were mismatched corridors of old and new. Not even his dad could have made any sense of it. Every room was different, latched together from some metal bus or wooden trailer, and yet it all seemed to fit perfectly, as though it had been built as a whole first and its separate four-wheeled vehicles extrapolated after. But it was dawning on Ned that impressive as it was, it was also uncommonly large; large and extremely heavy, and also extremely high. As he peered over the edge, his heart plummeted to his stomach. Being scared of heights was one thing; flying in an inflatable tent was quite another. He was already dreading Benissimo’s reply as the question left his lips …
“This thing, this flying machine … is it … safe?”
The Ringmaster stopped dead in his tracks and began muttering to himself.
“Why me? A blasted child and scared of his own shadow …”
“Oi, I am here, you know?” said Ned crossly.
“For your information, boy, this is not a ‘thing’, this is the Marilyn – the finest airship on either side of the Veil and as safe as a ruby in a crown.” Benissimo’s moustache was now twitching quite violently. “There are ‘things’ aplenty where we’re going that will offer up more than ample danger. Your fear of heights should be the least of your – or my – concerns.”
Ned sensed that it might be a good time to hold his tongue.
“Now, while you’re aboard, you need to follow a few simple rules. One – don’t touch anything. Two – don’t talk to anyone, and if anyone talks to you remember: you’re a runaway.” The Ringmaster paused to scratch at his chin. “On second thoughts, it might just be better if you stayed in your bunk. Don’t leave unless you absolutely must.”
Benissimo indicated a door to their immediate right.
“What about permission to breathe? You left that out,” Ned grumbled under his breath.
“Veil-bound and right secure on the third!” roared one of the Marilyn’s crewmen.
“Nearly home and all aboard on the second!” yelled another below.
The first floor’s reply was a loud metallic clunk as the circus’s captured Darklings were locked into their hold. Benissimo strode away to take his place at the helm from where Ned heard a long blast of the ship’s foghorn. From all around the Marilyn a chorus of trumpets and what could only have been a cannon replied and Ned realised she was only one floating vessel in a much larger convoy.
He went into his cabin and looked out the window to a wall of fog. It came as a huge relief. Without seeing their take-off, at least he could pretend he was on a bus. A really big, weird bus.
One thing was certain, Benissimo – his protector and only route to finding his father – did not think very highly of him, which was fine because the feeling was entirely mutual. He decided to focus on more pressing matters. There was the girl for one thing, Lucy Beaumont. Did she know they were looking for her? Was she lost? Afraid? Were the clowns after her too? It was then that he remembered the scratched writing on the patio doors of his sitting room.
Y C U L …
Of course! He hadn’t thought about it at the time but the clown’s writing, seen from the other side of the window, would appear backwards. It was Lucy’s name. Was that what his dad had wanted to explain? Did he want to tell him about her? This new world that his father was supposed to be part of was not Ned’s. It made him feel like he didn’t really belong, even at home with his own dad.
Alone in his swaying bunk, Ned checked
