Something powerful is drawing Ward back to Devil's Island. Something he thought he had forgotten. He must evade vicious lighthouse keeper George Jaggles in order to rescue it, but Jaggles will soon be the least of his worries. Because an assassin is...
The dore's thoughts were less coherent than Grim's. It was as if it could not focus on anything for longer than a second or two. But Carmen could sense the intensity of its emotions: fear, love, confusion. The dore must have been desperate to resort to communicating with a human, even one it knew.
(Wheels. Run. Help.)
Carmen could make no sense of this.
(Ward)
(Where is he?) she tried.
(Red men)
Red men? Carmen thought. Reds?
If she was interpreting the dore correctly, the Reds had taken Ward. Which made no sense, because he should have been far away.
(Nick?) she tried.
It was at that moment that Grim stalked into the kitchen. He froze in the doorway. Fidelma ran up Carmen's arm and straight into her open breast pocket. Grim's eyes narrowed. He sauntered past her, his tail twitching, and went out through the half-open door to the sunroom. The dore shook in her pocket.
She decided to leave it there. She couldn't do anything yet anyway. She'd have to wait until her parents had gone to bed. She tried to distract herself by making dinner. It didn't work.
It was dark when her mere got home. Her pere came down from his workshop and they all sat down together to eat. Carmen had brought some bread home from school, and a tiny portion of butter, which she spread carefully on the bread after she had toasted it over the stove. Some boiled potatoes completed the meal. Everything else at the market had been too expensive: food shortages had become commonplace in recent years. Her parents didn't complain about the meal, nor did they pretend that it was wonderful. It was best not to draw attention to it at all.
"How was work?" Carmen's pere said.
"Busy," replied her mere. She gave Carmen a strange look, then returned her gaze to her plate.
Joe Carmichael cut a potato into tiny, perfect cubes. He chewed them slowly and carefully, one at a time, in the manner of those accustomed to deprivation. Carmen had seen him take ten minutes to eat one small potato.
For a while there was only the miserable sound of a miserable meal being eaten. Carmen waited for an opening. None came.
"Anyone arrested today?" she said brightly. It sounded false to her ears, but she didn't care. She had to know. As a cleaner at Bedlam Prison Carmen's mere saw things. She was forbidden to speak of them though. Sometimes she would come home from work with a haunted look in her eyes.
"Eat your dinner Carmen," her pere said. "Your mere's had a long day."
Carmen went back to her food. She stabbed with frustration at a potato and it skittered off her plate onto the table. Her father raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Carmen put her fork down. "I need to know who they brought in," she said. "It's important."
Her mere didn't look up. She kept right on eating.
"What's this about, Carmen?" her pere said.
"I'll tell you when she tells me."
"Don't call your mere that."
"There was a mute boy," her mere said to her plate. "Couldn't've been older than you, Carmen. Captured hijacking a Treasury coach. The others got away."
Carmen's stomach performed a sick swoop. Lightfinger.
"What'll they do to him?" she said.
"I don't know." She turned to her husband and her voice faltered. "They're arresting children now."
"Sssh," Carmen's pere said, putting a hand over hers.
"Anyone else?" Carmen said. She had gone this far – there was no point backing off now.
"That's enough Carmen," her pere said.
But her mere answered. "The boy who was behind our couch."
Carmen watched it slowly dawn on her pere's face who she meant. He turned on Carmen. "What do you know about this?"
"Nothing."
"Who was that boy?" Carmen's mere said. "Nobody seems to know. They found him in the Temple for Hatto's sake."
"My friend," Carmen murmured.
The Temple? she thought. What on earth was he doing there?
"You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone," her pere said. "Even Rupert. Especially Rupert. You know what could happen, don't you?"
She nodded. Of course she knew. "You have to help him," she said. "Them."
Her mere shrugged helplessly. "I'm not allowed near the prisoners."
"What time does -"
"Carmen, stop this. It's not your fault that your friend -"
"Friends – "
"- friends have been caught doing things they know are wrong. We all know the consequences. I won't have you getting involved." She turned to Carmen's pere. "See, this is why I should never talk about work." She seemed to be finishing an old argument.
"You still haven't told us what this is about," her pere said.
"I don't know," Carmen said, slumping back in her chair. "I wish I did."
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