THE PERCUSSIONISTS WERE POUNDING ON THEIR INSTRUMENTS and the party was in full swing. It was so stuffy and hot in the marquee that the hangings had been lifted to let in a cool breeze and Abakum’s enormous Centaury had been dragged into the centre of the tent to regulate the temperature and purify the air.
Creatures and humans alike were enjoying this chance to let their hair down. The plants, too, were letting off steam and, despite being naturally grounded, were moving as much as they could. A Nobilis had been rocking back and forth so wildly that it had managed to uproot itself from its pot! The Goranovs were in a terrible state at the sight of the plant, roots in the air, still swaying to the irresistible beat of the music. Fortunately, disaster was averted: the over-enthusiastic Nobilis was quickly repotted and the Goranovs were given a massage which soon calmed them down.
Oksa had been trying to find Tugdual for a while. The last time she’d seen him he’d been dancing with Zoe. Oksa had watched them surreptitiously. Listening hard with her Volumiplus gift, she’d attempted to overhear what they were saying but had failed miserably. The party noise was drowning everything out.
Oksa was still perplexed by Zoe. She was even harder to read than Tugdual. Watching them whispering seriously in the middle of the crowded dance floor, she realized she still had no idea what her second cousin really thought about things. However hard Oksa tried, she couldn’t get Zoe to give anything away. It was impossible to find out whom she’d made the sacrifice for when she’d offered to be subjected to Beloved Detachment. She’d obviously done it to save Oksa—and the Young Gracious didn’t doubt that for a second—but she also knew that either Gus or Tugdual had unwittingly driven Zoe to the brink of despair and had forced her to renounce love for ever. But which of them was it? Oksa could make an argument for either of the boys and there was no way of being sure. When she’d told Zoe about her brief visit to the Outside a cloud of emotion had passed over her cousin’s darkly ringed hazel eyes, but that was all. Oksa had taken care not to mention Kukka. The beautiful Scandinavian girl had already got under her skin—there was no point in tormenting Zoe too.
“Aren’t you dancing any more?”
Oksa jumped. Zoe was right there, watching her. Even though her face bore the marks of hardship, she looked very pretty.
“I love your hair like that,” said Oksa. “It makes you look like Princess Leia in Star Wars.”
“Thank you,” said Zoe, amused.
They stood side by side for a few seconds, watching the dancers and remarking on people’s outfits, until Oksa finally spotted Tugdual’s dark silhouette weaving its way through the crowd.
“Sorry, Zoe, I’ll be back in a mo.”
As was often the case, Zoe didn’t miss a trick. Her eyes hardened almost imperceptibly and she stiffened. Before Oksa could say anything more, Zoe had already turned away and disappeared among the partygoers, like a fish slipping between her fingers. Feeling irritated, Oksa stood on tiptoe for a better view and tried to find Tugdual again. In desperation she rose about a foot into the air, which was just as well, since she spotted Tugdual heading for one of the exits. She landed on the ground again and set off in the same direction.
The waters of Brown Lake and the distant Peak Ridge Mountains looked blacker than ink in the twilight. A single, more persistent, ray from the setting sun cut through the dense, purplish-red clouds like a golden sword. Farther away, the towering Parasol trees looked like outsize ebony umbrellas. Instinctively, Oksa scanned the Aegis. The Hawk Brigades had been replaced by the Owlet Squadrons equipped with Polypharuses and, even though night was falling, she could still see small groups of Vertiflying Felons shooting back and forth on the other side like lethal rockets. Oksa shivered. She waited until her eyes had adjusted to the dim light bathing the white sandy shores and finally saw Tugdual making for a copse of Majestics, accompanied by a Veloso. Unhindered by the darkness, he was striding ahead as confidently as if it were broad daylight. Intrigued, Oksa followed him.
The dark shadows cast by the trees made it virtually impossible to see anything clearly. With effort, she managed to distinguish two silhouettes: Tugdual and another person, who looked like a man.
She crept nearer, careful not to give herself away by stepping on a twig or kicking a stone. “If I were a Firmhand, I’d be able to see better,” she grumbled to herself. It was cool now that night had fallen. Oksa tightened her Cloak around her and paid close attention. Tugdual was chatting to someone in a low voice. Their whispers were swallowed up by the lapping of the lake and the light breeze rustling the leaves. However, from the angry gestures made by Tugdual and the other man, she could see that the conversation wasn’t entirely amicable.
Suddenly an Owlet Squadron passed over the treetops and the light from their Polypharuses gave Oksa an unexpected, and alarming, glimpse of the mysterious person Tugdual was talking to.
She leant against a tree, reeling with shock. Silently, her lips formed the name of the person she’d recognized instantly.
Mortimer.
Mortimer McGraw.
Deep in conversation with Tugdual.
She pulled herself together as best she could. She had to think clearly and try to work out what was going on. Her mind was buzzing with questions. Firstly, how had Mortimer managed to enter Thousandeye City? It had been proved that no one could trick their way in, so what was he doing here? And why had he got in contact with Tugdual? Why not Zoe, with whom he’d been so close? And what did he want? There were far too many unanswered questions… Trembling with incomprehension and frustration, Oksa felt as though her head were about to explode. Her Curbita-Flatulo started undulating frantically around her wrist to slow down her racing heart.
After twenty minutes that seemed to last hours, the Squadrons flew over again, illuminating the scene, which gave Oksa just enough time to see that the situation had changed. There was no longer any trace of animosity between the two boys, but what she saw didn’t make her feel any better: Tugdual was sitting against a tree, his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. Mortimer was squatting in front of him. What was the meaning of all this?
The dull thud of explosions could be heard as the moon rose in the sky. The chilly moonlight filtered through the leaves of the trees, illuminating Tugdual and Mortimer in the undergrowth. Their long, eerie shadows crept along the ground. Although still concealed in relative darkness, Oksa dived behind a bush and pressed herself flat, her chin in the damp earth.
She soon realized it hadn’t been a good idea. Venturing to glance through the sparse foliage, she was alarmed to see both boys looking over in her direction, like wild beasts on the alert for possible prey. What was more, she realized they were much nearer than she’d thought—barely twenty yards away! So when Mortimer stood up and began walking in her direction, she hardly had time to curse. This was no time for caution—she had to think and act fast. With lightning speed she took off vertically and landed on the Parasol tree branch above. Perched like an owl, she saw Mortimer examining the bush she’d just left. “Phew, that was close,” she breathed. Tugdual came over too and Mortimer stopped searching without thinking to look up, much to Oksa’s relief.
“You can count on me,” Mortimer told Tugdual. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’ll do everything I can to help.”
Tugdual nodded.
“Don’t forget to give me what you promised,” he said hollowly.
Mortimer took a small packet from his pocket and handed it to him.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Tugdual, slipping the packet into the back pocket of his trousers.
“I’m going back.”
“You could stay here…”
“I’d soon be unmasked,” retorted Mortimer.
Oksa’s blood ran cold when she heard this. Tugdual must have been hypnotized, that was the only explanation. Breathlessly she stared at them, fighting not to shower the Felon’s son with Granoks. “Tugdual, what the hell are you doing?” she screamed in her head. Mortimer turned and looked around.
“I have to go now,” he said. “We’ll stay in touch, okay?”
Tugdual gave a nod, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Mortimer studied him for a second, then ran as swiftly as a cheetah through the undergrowth and disappeared.
A howl ripped through the night, so loud and surprising that Oksa almost fell off her branch. She leant forward, holding her breath, her nails digging into the bark. Tugdual was lying on the ground, his arms and legs stretched out in an X on the spot where she’d been earlier. The moonlight illuminated his body, his deathly pale face and his intense eyes burning with madness.