sat perfectly still on top of the long table.
She sighed. Her bushy red tail twitched. ‘Calm down, Conall.’
‘Calm down?’ He stopped in his tracks. ‘Sofia, do you not see your rights being eroded? I won’t just stand by—’
‘I can assure you I am aware of the precise condition of my rights, every single day. You may safely assume most Wunimals are.’ There was a new edge to her voice, though its volume hadn’t increased in the slightest. Conall opened his mouth to retort, then seemed to think better of it. ‘And I don’t want to just stand by, either, but there’s a proper way to address the curfew problem, and storming parliament isn’t— Morrigan?’ Her tail twitched again as she glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Is that you?’
Morrigan jumped at the sound of her name and entered the room a little shamefaced.
‘Sorry,’ she said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. ‘I was just …’ She trailed off, unsure of what to say. It was plainly obvious she’d overheard their conversation.
‘What do you think about this curfew business?’ Sofia asked her.
‘She’s a child,’ snapped Conall.
‘She’s a Wundersmith.’
‘She’s still a child!’
‘I agree with Conall,’ Morrigan said quietly.
Conall looked up, blinking his bright blue eyes at her. ‘She’s a highly intelligent child, I’ve always said that.’
Sofia’s ears twitched. ‘How so, Morrigan?’
‘It’s dreadful of Steed to arrest people for something that shouldn’t be a crime. It’s only going to make people more frightened.’ She took a seat at the table, unbuttoning her coat. ‘And how is the Hollowpox mission going to keep trying to find the infected before they attack? A third of the task force is made up of Wunimals, and now you can’t go out past sunset! Couldn’t the Elders at least get special permission for you and the rest of the task force to ignore the curfew?’
Sofia shook her head. ‘It doesn’t work like that, Morrigan. The Elders can’t petition the government for personal favours.’
‘And it’s not about getting special permission for some Wunimals,’ Conall added. ‘It’s about fairness to all Wunimals.’
‘Then … maybe you’re right, Conall. Maybe we should storm parliament!’ Morrigan insisted. ‘All of us. The whole Wundrous Society. If we all came together to challenge Gideon Steed – just imagine that! All these Wuns, with all these knacks. Would you want to say no? Maybe it would frighten him enough to …’
Morrigan trailed off again at the look of disappointment on Sofia’s face.
‘We don’t use our knacks to tyrannise people, Morrigan. It’s not what the Wundrous Society is about.’
Morrigan blinked. She felt a sudden welling of some unpleasant, familiar feeling in her stomach. She felt ashamed. Tyrannising people … that’s what Ezra Squall did.
‘I know!’ she said quickly, and even she could hear the defensive tone in her voice. ‘I know that. I didn’t really mean we should do anything. I just … never mind.’
There was a moment of awkward silence in which nobody quite knew what to say next, then Conall cleared his throat and opened his fob watch. ‘Five minutes, Wundersmith.’ He held it up for her to see.
Morrigan shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘Sorry – five minutes?’
‘Your lesson. It begins in five minutes.’ He pointed upwards. ‘Rooftop.’
‘Oh, right. Bye.’ She got up and bolted for the door, glad for a reason to leave. She dashed down the marble hall of Sub-Nine, eager to outrun her discomfort.
‘Morrigan, wait!’
She stopped and turned back, feeling guilt wash over her again as Sofia emerged from the study chamber behind her. She opened her mouth to say something, but Sofia held up a paw. ‘It’s all right. You were trying to show you’re on my side. I know that. I just want you to remember that there are no sides to this. Wunimals, humans … we all just want this to be over. Even Prime Minister Steed and the Stink. We’re all on the same side, really.’
Morrigan nodded but truthfully, she wasn’t sure she agreed with that sentiment any more.
LʘCATIʘN
PARTICIPANTS & EVENTS
DATE & TIME
School of Wundrous Arts, rooftop of Proudfoot House, southern end
Gracious Goldberry, Maurice Bledworth
Goldberry and Bledworth practise the Wundrous Art of Inferno
Age of Industry, Third Monday, Autumn of Eight
09:13—10:32
Morrigan made it to the rooftop just in time. Squinting against the sun, she found the tiny gap in the air (it was harder to spot outside during the day) and reached inside, feeling a cool breeze brush her fingertips. Then a familiar, gentle pull. The air around her shivered as she slipped into the past.
It was a stormy,