Anaximander A talking dog, trained for violence, but with refined sensibilities.
Bellows The primary factotum of the Master of Mordew. He is proud, but also sad.
Cuckoo A boy from the slums.
Dashini The daughter of the Mistress of Malarkoi, clever, mischievous, and lost.
The Dawlish Brothers Two brutes in the service of Mr Padge.
The Fetch He was born when a horse evacuated into a blacksmith’s forge: up went a billow of steam, and when the blacksmith looked down there was the Fetch, naked and red, and wrinkled like a rat cub. He was blind and deaf, and the blacksmith slung him out onto the tip, where his brother rats taught him to see and hear. Now he sees and hears things as a rat does – wiry and shrill – which accounts for his bad temper. He ferries boys to and from the Master.
Gam Halliday A self-made boy. Out of the Mud he gathered what parts came to hand until a child like a bird’s nest was there, made from twigs and leavings stuck together against the wind with spit. Such was the poverty of his surroundings that not all the necessary elements for a fully formed person were available, so he is missing some of them. In the centre of him are a clutch of blue eggs, but who knows who laid them?
Jerky Joes Two children in one, they are part of Gam Halliday’s criminal gang.
Ma Dawlish A gin-house proprietress.
The Man with a Fawn Birthmark A mysterious aristocrat and ‘gentleman caller’ on Mrs Treeves.
The Master of Mordew When a wheel turns it rolls across those things beneath it: stones are pushed into the Mud, snail shells break, delicate flowers are crushed. Sometimes the rims of the wheels bear the effects of this movement: the metal is notched, pitted or bent. Towards the hub of the wheel, none of this matters in the slightest. The centre of the wheel is perfect and out from it go perfect spokes, straight and true, and if the mechanism rattles, it is hard to feel it, and there is certainly no chance that the wheel will be interrupted in its progress – it is still perfect. The Master is the centre of the wheel, he is the movement of the wheel, his ways are unalterable, unquestionable, and, to those who dwell on the rim, unknowable – we see only his effects, which are terrible and cruel.
The Mistress of Malarkoi Of the Mistress the people of Mordew do not speak except to name her in their curses. She is the enemy.
Mr Padge A violent criminal who knows the modes and means of treachery in every aspect.
Mr Treeves He was born from a stone weathered in the rain and ice of a winter perched on the Sea Wall. A fault in this stone was eased open by the freeze, and in the spring Treeves père wriggled out, salty and cold and weak. His strength was further wasted fending off frostbite and fish bite and death by drowning. He is now moribund and ineffectual, prey to lungworm infestation. He is Nathan Treeves’s father.
Mrs Treeves Down in the slums she is wife to Mr Treeves, mother to Nathan Treeves, servicer of all comers. A more ignoble thing it would be hard to imagine. Yet who are you to judge? Time will tell.
Nathan Treeves The son of Mr and Mrs Treeves, the secrets behind this child’s life are analogous to the motivating forces of our story, and to reveal them here would be a mistake. That said, Nathan is the crux of all things that take place in Mordew, whether he or anyone else will admit it, and there will come a time when he exceeds all those who came before him, living or dead, but in what way we cannot yet predict.
Prissy A slum girl and part of Gam Halliday’s gang. When a song is sung it can be very affecting, but when its notes echo in the slums of Mordew, inevitably some beauty is lost. The sea mist deadens it, the waves crashing obscure it, and in order for it to be heard the voice must strain past its tolerances. The tone is altered by the acoustics of the place, and the ears on which the music falls and the hearts by which it is received are often not sympathetic to the artistry of the performance. Consequently, it is possible to see coarseness in Prissy, who is forced into singing songs unworthy of her.
Rekka A destructive ur-demon, best left in its place of origin.
Sirius A dog with mysterious senses. Friend of Anaximander.
Solomon Peel A famous boy, possibly fictive, whose story is used to frighten crying children out of their tearfulness.
Willy and Wonty Slum-dwellers speak endlessly of the Master, always wondering as to his future actions and whether he will ever end their torment. These words do not fall uselessly, though the Master pays them no attention, but drift about, buffeted and bolstered by repetition, until they settle into the form of objects – puzzling, unformed clumps of matter. But sometimes, very rarely, they make living boys, and thereby find new vehicles for their utterance. Willy and Wonty are two such boys, and so ingrained are the questions in them that these two find it impossible to think, or to be, or to speak, without giving voice to their formative interrogations.