see Lord Saturn. Take me to Saturn.’
His eyes flickered a bit, looking me over. I still had posters tucked into my belt — I’d been gathering them so we could re-use the backs for the new performances.
‘You’re one of those theatre pups,’ he said quietly. ‘Cabaret of monsters, aye? You were the ferax.’
It was uncanny that he knew me from that one performance, and me in a sweaty leather mask.
‘Take me to Saturn,’ I said again, brash and far too confident.
‘Oh, you don’t want that. Run back to your theatre.’
He released my collar and turned to leave, but I grabbed onto his belt. ‘Did he set them animals on her? Were they his?’
Bad Cravat’s face was all pale, sort of sick-looking, as he looked me over again. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘They were hers. Scurry home, ratling.’
With that, he prised my fingers from him and walked away. I tried to follow him again, but he turned into an alley and when I caught up he had vanished, like a stage trick.
3
We stayed through Venturis and Lupercalia. Adriane had learnt from the best. Whenever the stagemaster started making noises about heading back to Oyster, she’d scream like a fishwife and besiege him in his office until he gave in, over and over. One more show. Then another. Hardly anyone in the city had seen our old revues, so we had enough material to do something new every month.
The year turned.
My eighth birthday came and went, and I didn’t say a word about it to anyone. Madalena had been the one who remembered it each year, with a new shirt if she was flush and a handful of sweets if she was down on her uppers.
Ruby-Red turned twelve and made it into the columbine chorus. Matthias got sick again, and the stagemaster gave more of his roles to Kip. Benny left, because the boot factory paid more than the stagemaster ever would. Half the columbines ran off to other theatres, but half of those came back again, regretting it. There were always new demmes lining up, hungry to see their star rise.
Saturnalis came around again and we’d been in the big city a year. The stagemaster didn’t talk about us going home any more. We were stuck with each other.
We had a packed house on the eve of the Saturnalia. It was a new revue for once, though the play was still saints and angel — we’d started a fashion there and half the musettes in the Lucian were putting on similar shows. Adriane was pregnant and still pretending she wasn’t. The costumes had been let out three times, but we all knew better than to joke about it where she could hear. I had a solo of my own in the pantomime, playing a capering orphan with a secret past. The stagemaster said I had a gift for comedy.
Lord Saturn bought a ticket that first nox. He didn’t bring any of his chorus. Just sat there in the front row of the dress circle as if nothing had ever happened. The stagemaster threw out a line in his introduction about our private benefactor and Saturn bowed his head while all the fine demmes and seigneurs peered at him, muttering.
I knew Aufleur pretty well now. Pasting posters for a year will do that for you. I’d got better at tracking people without being spotted, too. I’d been practising, waiting for my chance. I was quick and quiet. This time, I was going to find out his secrets. So I followed him home.
I’d never been up on the Balisquine before, the hill where the Duc lived. The vigiles would cripple any lamb they caught up there with a paste brush, and I knew about the lictors, too — axes, they carried. Didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them. Saturn walked quick, like he had somewhere to get to or something to hide. I could see the flickering lamps of the Duc’s Palazzo, but he didn’t go near it, which was a relief.
I scampered after him and crested the hill, looking across to a ruined old tower. There were white birds everywhere. Owls, all snowy white, all sizes. I’d never seen an owl properly before, just heard the occasional hoot or seen a silhouette over the city. They were beautiful in the half-moonlight. Bright as anything.
Saturn walked towards the tower, casting off his top hat, his long coat, his boots. Then he … changed. Flew apart into pieces and became all