23 
Ottilie and Gully were on the path through the lavender fields when the bells rang out in an unfamiliar tune.
‘Which one is that?’ said Gully, reaching for his knife.
‘I’ve never heard it before,’ said Ottilie, looking around frantically. Not a wyler, not again, but … ‘Those aren’t the alarm bells?’ It was a small comfort, just enough to keep her going.
The bells were ringing from the watchtower above the main gate. She grabbed her bow and together they ran towards the source of the sound.
Ottilie could never have imagined the scene they stumbled into. Countless huntsmen were gathered around. The air was alive with hisses and whispers. Through the crowd, she could see the gates had been raised and, walking between them, Igor Thrike was dragging someone in by the hair.
Maeve Moth was covered in mud, with leaves, twigs and feathers sticking out of her hair and clothing. Ottilie didn’t know what to think.
‘Thrike, what are you … who have you got?’ said Wrangler Furdles, hobbling down from the wall.
‘We found her out there,’ said Igor, raising his voice above the gibbering crowd.
His fledge, Dimitri Vosvolder, was following behind, his pointed face flushed.
‘What d’you mean, out there?’ said Furdles.
‘Look where I’m coming from!’ Igor barked.
Ottilie frowned. Maeve had been beyond the walls, the very day that Bayo had been attacked. Had Ottilie been right? Was Maeve really involved? But seeing her like that, dishevelled, being dragged by the hair, her icy resolve melted … It didn’t feel right.
Ramona stalked through the crowd, her face thunderous. ‘Igor, let go of her!’ It wasn’t a shout, or even a snarl, but it was powerful, like the crack of burning wood.
The crowd fell silent, but Igor was unmoved.
‘No!’ said Igor, bright with righteousness. ‘Bayo Amadory was murdered this morning. Someone set the wylers on him, and here, look! A girl! Out there alone. She’s a witch!’
This was what Whistler had been talking about. Igor had no reason to believe Maeve was a witch, but a girl alone, in a place she was not meant to be – that was enough for him.
There were gasps and several people backed away. Wrangler Furdles spat on the ground.
‘Where is your proof?’ said Ramona firmly.
‘Proof!’ said a shrill voice from behind Ottilie. ‘That girl set the tapestry on fire, right above my head!’
‘Tudor, you don’t know that!’ said Ramona, raising her voice again.
‘She was in the room!’ cried Wrangler Voilies. ‘She’s a rebel! She signed that … that insidious petition. And now here, look at her, a sculkie beyond the walls. An elite dead! You want more proof than that!’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Ramona, staring him down.
Ottilie was dizzy. She had fixated on Maeve as a distraction, because getting answers was something useful, something to help. But Ramona was right. There was not enough proof, and Ottilie remembered again that she had a very good reason to believe that Maeve was innocent. Maeve had wanted to learn to defend herself. She had wanted it badly enough that she had risked being caught conspiring with Ottilie. She had no reason to do those things if she was in control of the dredretches.
‘Search her things, Furdles,’ Voilies shrieked. ‘We’ll get you your proof! And someone alert the directorate.’ He sounded feverish. ‘Igor, step away from her. It’s not safe. But keep her covered.’
Dimitri raised his bow, pointing an arrow at Maeve’s back. Igor withdrew and did the same.
Ottilie finally felt as if she had returned to her body. Sharp with focus, she looked up. Five huntsmen on the wall had their arrows on Maeve. She felt the shift of movement as more huntsmen raised their weapons, tipping spears in her direction, holding cutlasses at the ready. Maeve was completely surrounded. Ottilie and Gully kept their weapons down.
While they waited for Wrangler Furdles to return, more people arrived. Wranglers, custodians, even Whistler had made her way from her tower and was peering over the parapet like a purple-winged vulture.
Ottilie sensed Leo move to her side, raising his bow like the others. Ned appeared on her other side and did not.
Captain Lyre was the first of the directorate to arrive. His eyebrows drawn together in an expression of deep concern, he marched swiftly to the front of the group with the hulking figure of Wrangler Morse by his side.
‘Let’s all remain calm,’ said Captain Lyre. But he did not tell them to lower their weapons. ‘Wrangler Furdles is searching her things?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Wrangler Voilies.
Captain Lyre took a step towards Maeve. ‘Miss Moth, what were you doing beyond the boundary wall?’ His voice was firm but not accusing.
‘Don’t let her speak! She’ll put a spell on you,’ cried Wrangler Voilies.
Maeve met Captain Lyre’s gaze, her eyes blazing. She looked terrified and exhausted. They all waited, but she did not answer.
Why wasn’t she defending herself?
‘We will need an explanation,’ Captain Lyre insisted.
There were shouts from across the grounds. Wrangler Furdles was hobbling towards them, waving something in the air. He was hollering like a maniac. ‘Witch!’ he cried. ‘She’s a WITCH!’
Ottilie gasped. He was holding Whistler’s book.
‘She had this … this witch book! And bones, tiny animal bones!’
Ottilie didn’t know what to do. The book would condemn Maeve, but it didn’t belong to her. She had only taken it that morning.
But why had she taken it? Maeve had been out beyond the wall, doing who knew what. And the strange things, the fire, the animal bones. She looked guilty. But it wasn’t right.
Ottilie opened her mouth. Gully was watching her. ‘Don’t, Ottilie,’ he pleaded.
‘I have to!’ she said, squaring her shoulders. She couldn’t let them use the book as evidence, not until she knew why Maeve had taken it.
Ned was watching her. She sensed him piecing it together. He knew they’d stolen books from the Bone Tower.
‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘They’re looking for any excuse to get rid of you.’
‘It’s not hers,’ Ottilie hissed. Feeling steadier than she had in hours, she moved to step forwards but Ned grabbed her hand. The gesture caught her off-guard, just long enough.
‘It’s not her book!’ called Gully, jumping forwards. ‘It’s mine!’
Ottilie wanted to claw at him, wrench him backwards. Hot panic coiled around her ribs like a cinder snake.
‘Gulliver!’ said Wrangler Voilies, his expression morphing into something even more unpleasant. ‘There’s no need for heroics. She’s a pretty thing, but witchcraft is indefensible.’
Gully’s mouth curved down in disgust. ‘It’s mine. Maeve took it off me. She said she was going to report me. That’s why she had it.’
‘This is your book, Gulliver?’ said Captain Lyre, his eyes searching.
‘Forgive me,’ said Voilies. ‘But I don’t believe any of our fledglings brought possessions with them on their journey to the Narroway. Gulliver is simply stepping up to save the damsel in distress … very noble but –’
‘I borrowed it,’ said Gully, loudly.
‘Borrowed?’ said Captain Lyre.
‘Stole it, from the bone singers. It’s just, with everyone talking about witches, I wanted to learn more about them,’ he said, very quickly. ‘To know how to fight them … stop them. That’s all.’
Sensing eyes upon her, Ottilie looked up. Whistler was watching her, an unreadable expression on her angular face.
‘And I suppose the bones were yours too?’ said Wrangler Voilies, trying and failing to sound amused.
‘No,’ said Gully, with a forced shrug. ‘Just the book.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Voilies sneered. ‘She’s a liar, a manipulator. She didn’t report it, did she? She kept it for herself!’
‘Enough of this,’ said Captain Lyre, shifting his grip on his cane. ‘We need to take her inside.’
‘The burrows!’ cried Wrangler Furdles with glee.
‘We’ll take her to my chambers, and I will discuss the next step with Conductor Edderfed,’ said Captain Lyre.
Voilies gaped like a beached trout. ‘But –’
‘This is for the directorate to decide,’ said Captain Lyre.
‘I’ll take her,’ said Whistler, from above.
Wrangler Voilies looked aghast. ‘Surely a huntsman –’
‘I do not fear witchcraft,’ said Whistler, sounding a little smug. ‘I’ll take her.’
Whistler descended the stairs and passed through the armed huntsmen, most still pointing their weapons at Maeve.
‘It’s not about personal safety,’ said Voilies, with a sour laugh. ‘It’s about keeping her captive!’
‘Enough, Tudor,’ growled Wrangler Morse.
Whistler took Maeve gently by the arm and led her through the crowd.
Ottilie felt bound – useless. She wanted to be angry with Gully for taking her place, but she couldn’t help feeling grateful for his quick thinking. It was true, it was far safer for Gully to take the blame. Ottilie would probably have been dragged straight to the burrows if she had spoken up.
It took her a few moments to realise Ned was still holding her hand. She looked at him. He had turned away from her, watching Maeve and Whistler. She wondered if he was even aware that he had not let go. He must have felt her gaze because he turned back.
For a moment, they looked at each other. Ned smiled with his eyes, and Ottilie’s overwrought heart shifted its rhythm. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it. She felt lost for a moment, as if she had just dropped something precious.