One: Calibay

I yawn as the train pulls into Calibay. With my smart black suit, my newly-dyed black, oily hair, and my glasses and unnoticeable, face-changing make-up, who could guess I'm one of the most wanted men in the world? I get up, supposedly lazily, though out of the corner of my eye I'm glancing around to see if she's here. Typical. The princess... my sister... isn't here. My sister. I shudder at the thought. I could hardly believe it when... No. Don't think about it, because then you'll start thinking about your mother. Then everything, all of the pretend ignorance you've built up over the years, will collapse.

Instead I calculate where Band eight should be now. Never hurts to have a group who'll help you kill anyone attempting to attack you. Let's see... the old truck they're in was going at about 30 miles per hour... yes, they'll be here by now. Not, of course, that they know the truth about Evadne and my mother. Quite something, that'd be, the Eritsaa'r being the son of... of... I shudder again. It doesn't matter anyway – family is nothing. She's only the woman who forced me into existence, and a miserable, hard existence at that. And as for Evadne... God forbid the truth ever coming out that she's my sister. I can't believe I'm staying with her now, though I was quite clear – extremely clear – that I wasn't doing this because we're family. No, it's just that I know things about her she might not want revealed. And I need someplace to stay, away from the Kingdom. I'd stay somewhere else, anywhere else, but there's nowhere unbooked. I could threaten them, blackmail some hotel somewhere, but what the hell, I need somewhere.

“Karl?”

I jump and see her behind me. Does she have to say it so loud? But her little brat's there so I just smile and say, “Long time, no see.”

She frowns at me, obviously trying to work out what angle I'm coming at. Her husband studies me behind her. She's probably told the idiot everything about me.

“Don't look so angry to see me!” I joke lightly, and stretch my arms in a completely fake act of tiredness, which shows her the gun I've got strapped against my right arm. The brat and husband – I may still be able to get something out of them. Should be simple. For the bloke I can just give him a couple of beers, then start sympathising about what women are like. Soon enough he'll be telling me all his wife's weakness. And the brat? I can just leave a few “clues” her way. Accidentally leave some letters behind where she's likely to look. This is going to be too easy.

She flinches at the sight of the gun – for heaven's sake, did she really think I would come unarmed – but she doesn't say anything to me. In fact the entire walk to her house is filled with silence – and I can't for the life of me be bothered to think of something to say. Her husband shows me to my room and I apologise for my behaviour, say I'm tired. Sadly apparently the old girl has told him about me, because he snarls at me a few threats of things that'll come my way if I so much as harm a hair on the head of anyone in his family. I almost laugh – and it makes me grin to imagine the look on his face when he realises what he's done the day after I force it out of him. Can't be bothered to argue though so I just say innocently, “Why would I want to do something like that?” and lie down on my bed, ignoring his glares. After checking the room for cameras – you never know, they might be cleverer than they look – I settle myself down on an ancient armchair. I'll be “reading” for quite a while. Over the years I've learnt to recognise what people are doing by the sounds, and I'll bet Evadne doesn't know quite how thin the walls are. Tomorrow morning I can go for a stroll and work out some plans of action. With that reassuring thought, I switch on the reading lamp and slouch further down the chair.

Well, we walk to the train station. Mum looks worried, which is weird because he's her brother, you know, no one alarming.

Then Mum says, “Karl?” and this man turns around. The first impression I get of my Uncle Karl is dark black, greasy hair and glasses, together with a posh suit. I feel surprised, can't say exactly why. Possibly because he looks nothing like her. Uncle Karl looks kinda annoyed at this greeting, again I don't know why. Adults are so weird. Anyway, he seems to relax and they greet one another. I soon lose interest. On the way home, however, no one says a word. I want to say something, just to break the silence, you know, but I don't know what to say, and I can't think of anything.

Mum and Dad keep looking in this worried way at Uncle Karl, especially Mum. Don't ask me what that's about either. Dad shows him to his room and I sit downstairs with Mum.

“El, darling?” she murmurs, startling me.

“Yes, Mum?”

“Be careful, love. Your uncle... he isn't always the nicest of men.”

What a lovely thing to say about your brother!

“Did you grow up with him?”

“No, sweetheart.”

An explanation isn't offered so I don't ask for one.

“Should I go to bed now, Mum?”

“Better.”

Mum kisses me goodnight and I hurry up the stairs. As I pass Uncle Karl's room I see him engrossed in a book, smiling softly.

My brother. It's so hard to believe. I recognise him only because he told me, in the last letter, what he'd look like. He's wearing a posh suit, and now has black hair and glasses. I call, “Karl?” softly and he spins around, obviously having not seen me before. Whether the irritation on his face is because of this or the fact I used his name I don't know. However he hides this and greets me lightly. He seems not up to anything but I peer at him, trying to work out his trick. More light chat follows. Then he stretches as if tired, and I see the gun hidden just up his sleeve. I freeze. What does he intend to do, exactly, while he's staying with me? I wish I hadn't let him come. But there's no way I could've not... I don't want to land myself in prison.

When we arrive at the house Ben shows him to his room. El's sitting downstairs and I can't help but warn her lightly about Karl. She's the first person he'll go for. She seems intrigued by the whole thing and asks questions I carefully avoid answering. She must notice because she asks me if it's her bedtime yet. I say yes, though it isn't quite, and she hurries off.

Stay safe, my darling child.

For me at least.

None of them even followed me! I checked, listened, ready to spring on a watcher, but there was no-one there. How pathetic she is. I can hardly believe we're of the same blood. But I've got no time for hardly believing things. I have so much to do... First I have to check on Band eight. They are the only people in the entire world who know who exactly is staying at 16 Dougfire Lane. And they won't tell... oh, I'd like to see the person who'd dare to defy the Eritsaa'r. Do you know, the brat doesn't even know who that is! I guess Calibay is a while away – eleven hours on the train – but still. Then again, if Evadne's managed to keep her heritage away from her – which she obviously has – then why should she know about me? But I'll get nowhere if I keep wondering about this. First things first. Three miles east, were the instructions. I don't like land that's unfamiliar but this can't be helped. Worse, much worse, to have stayed in the Kingdom. Apparently there's a helpful forest nearby that is pretty much deserted. Three miles east – I can cover that in a good half-hour. I'd personally prefer to have our meeting out in the open – that way there's no danger of them turning against you and attacking you – but according to Gords, one of my Band Eights, there is “urgent news” to be told. You'd think he was in a movie, the way he carries on. No doubt there'll be the normal “Sir, I have something important to tell you,” he nearly always comes out with.

Almost two hours later, I meet Band Eight in the depths of your bog-standard pine forest, dark and gloomy. These two things wouldn't bother me at all if I wasn't bothered slightly about Gords' possible turning on me. I'd have to kill him before he did that... doing it afterwards would mean complete failure. Failure is one thing I can't take. That awful feeling of horror creeping up inside as you realise you've done something utterly and completely wrong... unbearable. But that's okay, because I never fail. I never will, either. It's just not what I do.

“Sir?”asks Gords timidly (though not as timidly as I'd like).

I snap out of my little daydream instantly. What is wrong with me?

“Yes?” I reply coldly. I need a break, I'm doing everything wrong today.

“About that urgent news... sir, may I talk to you in private?”

“If find it hard to believe you have anything to tell me not worthy of your colleagues' ears.”

Gords frowns, and I can tell he's wondering whether to take this as a just-say-it-man or an insult. He decides on the former and murmurs, “Sir, I found out a bit about the girl you asked about.”

“And...?”

“A few facts you may not be interested in, really. Just a few quirky features.”

“Firstly, how did you find these out?”

“We've been watching her house. Well, I have.”

“You idiot! What if they saw you?”

“Oh, they didn't,” Gords assured me airily. “I'm a master of disguise.”

I rolled my eyes at his arrogance. “Well, did you find out anything interesting?”

“Not much. She dropped this, though.”

He pulls out a faded blue box.

“And this might be?”

“It's what's sometimes called a 'memory' box. It has certificates, essays etc that she's done. You said the slightest facts might help so I thought it might just be useful?”

It was, it was excellent, but I wasn't about to leap and hug Gords. “And you risked them finding us for this?”

“You did say the slightest facts, sir. And I tell you, they never noticed me. I quadruple-checked for cameras and the like but nothing.”

It was easy to believe this of Evadne's family, but I still wasn't confident about it. Besides, Gords was seriously annoying me.

“Well, give it here then,” I accepted gruffly, and Gords handed it over.

“I'll look at it later. Try to find out anything more you can, but keep away from the house. You can never be to careful.”

I turned to the rest of Band Eight – Bowler, Price, Carner, Tait, Dais, and Barnes.

“Bowler, Price, you search up on the husband. Barnes, Tait, you can help Gords. And you two... try to find out about the boy down the street. He's a good friend of the girl's and we may get some clues from him.”

That said, I turn back and head out of the forest. It will be dark soon and Evadne will be getting suspicious for sure. Though, come to think of it, she might just be glad that I'm gone. That husband of hers is a problem too... another person on the alert for anything I can pull off. It's a pain, but I can get round it. I'd like to see /him/ stop me. It's just they might have friends in a more powerful position. I don't for a minute doubt that if she wasn't in hiding, Evadne would alert the Wyretsi of where I am. Even she doesn't know how much exactly they'd love that information. She's heard of the Eritsaa'r, but I'll bet she doesn't have a clue he's here in her house.

The Queen... my mother... she knows who I am. I hope she's disappointed, hurt. I hope she rots away in hell when she dies. She deserves it.

When she told me... when I pretended I didn't care, she started crying. It was so unfair. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and glared at her. Since then I've been in constant pain about my identity. You'd think I'd remember something - some little fact - I was four when I ran away, so... Well. I have remembered some things. I wish I hadn't, because they creep into my mind when I'm not concentrating, and threaten to destroy me. It's /happy/ things I remember, see. Things I'm loathe to let enter my mind. Things that could steal in through my defence and penetrate my shield of uncaring.

It's easier with Evadne, because she doesn't treat me like family. She didn't grow up with me, never even met me before now except for one meeting in a dusty tavern three years ago, so she doesn't love me. Like my mother does. I saw it in her eyes as I talked to her, and it was... painful. Evadne doesn't treat me as a brother, but my mother treats me as a son.

I should be happy about this - it's a way to injure her. I should be able to grasp the idea that family's nothing, that water's thicker than blood, that it doesn't matter, but I can't. It means something to me that Evadne's my sister, that the Queen's my mother, and that's the ugly truth. And what's worse... I'm the heir. If my mother dies, I'll be expected to take the throne. Me! I usually sort problems out immediately so I don't have to face them later, but this is one thing I don't want to have to think about. I guess part of me still thinks if I don't pay any attention to the situation I'm in, it'll go away. Which is probably why I haven't told anyone. Telling someone would mean admitting to myself that this is really happening, something I'm loathe to admit.

I shake my head in disbelief. What the hell am I thinking? This is mad, mad, mad. I've managed to avoid thinking about this for ages...

I eventually force myself to concede that unfortunately, despite everything, staying with my sister has made me re-think the whole matter of my heritage. I sigh and glance at the watch currently residing on my arm. Quarter to five. I'd better walk faster. I give one last sigh and pick up the pace.

“Was that posh fellow your uncle, the one with the black hair?”

“Yeah. Why shouldn't he be?”

“No reason. Just he looked awfully business-like.”

“I don't see that it's any of your business.”

“Hey, no need to get ratty. I was only saying.”

“Well don't.”

“Bloody hell, how old are we, five?”

“I'm eleven. Don't know about you though.”

“Twelve.”

“Oh, shut up. I'll be twelve come February.”

“Yeah, it's only four months away.”

I glare at him. “You're so immature, Zeph.”

“/I'm/ immature?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Oh, sorry, are you too thick to work it out?”

“I'm cleverer than you.”

“Yeah, you're a swot.”

“Better than being in detention every night because you can't control your fists! Oh, I forgot. You don't /want/ to fight. Of course you don't. You just punch people by /accident, that's it.”

There is a shocked silence. I don't mention his fighting. I never do.

“Zeph, I'm sorry.”

“So that's how you see me.”

“No. It's not, honest. Zeph, don't go.”

“You wouldn't want someone like me polluting your mind.”

“Zeph...”

I look after him and sigh. What have I done?

“Is Uncle Karl in?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Aren't you playing with Zeph?”

“We fell out.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. My daughter and Zeph hardly /ever/ fall out. “What over?”

“Oh, nothing really. What's for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“Oh, good.”

“El...”

“Yes?”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, 'course not. Why would it be?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“I tell you what. Why don't we go out?”

“What about the pizza?”

“Who cares about the pizza? The men can have it.”

My daughter smiles. “OK, then.”

“Aren't you going to get changed?”

She runs off.

You aren't going to win, Karl.

I arrive back at their house at about seven o'clock. The kid is out with her mum so it's just me and Evadne's husband. Perfect. I flop down in front of the TV next to him and ask whether there's anything good on. He looks at me in this strange way and says, “Look, I don't know why my wife agreed to let you stay here (so she didn't tell him)but what I said last night about you harming my family is true and I'm going to stick to it. I know your type. You think you can do anything, but you're wrong. And I can tell you, you're not going to succeed this time.”

I suddenly see a possible way to turn this to my opportunity. “Your wife doesn't tell you much, does she? She didn't even tell you why I'm staying here?”

He goes purple. “My wife tells me plenty,” he snarls. “She may not have told me why you came, but she told me that you were cunning and sly, and would use any means possible to extract information from me. She doesn't trust you. Not one bit. Do you seriously think we don't have cameras just outside your room? Didn't spot them there, for all your wise words, did y-”

He freezes suddenly as the reality of what he's said hits him. “Shoot, you're good,” he murmurs.

“The best of the best,” I smile. “Now, I have some cameras to disable, if you don't mind.”

I leave him shaking his head in disbelief behind me and walk up the stairs. Sure enough, hidden, are two cameras. I quickly and expertly take them apart, humming softly. Downstairs I can hear the muffled oaths as the bloke realises that unfortunately for him, I do know what I'm doing. It's annoying, though. If only my sister had a little more pride, she might've not told him, and let me find out much more. The little he's told me is going to be all I'll get out of him. And he'll tell Evadne for certain. He has no sense of pride, much to my disappointment. People with pride are so much easier to handle.

Eventually Evadne and the brat arrive and I can hear hushed voices - Evadne talking with her husband (Ryan? Brian? Something like that) I'll bet. I can just hear what he's saying. I lean closer to hear Evadne shout, “You WHAT?”

Careful, the kid'll hear. Then again, a bit of suspicion against her family, bit of upset caused by arguments, that sort of thing won't be doing any harm. Not from my point of view, at least. I smile and tune back into the conversation.

“Calm down, darling. It's not that bad. It's only a couple of cameras.”

Darling?? I raise my eyebrows.

“It IS. I TOLD you he'd try to trick me and you IGNORED me.”

“Look, at least I didn't reveal anything useful.”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“He tricked you. You said you wouldn't be tricked by him. You said-”

“Look, we're both a bit tired. Why don't we just go to bed? I'm sure it'll be better in the morning.”

What utter crap! Better in the morning? Likely. I turn away to see the kid standing in her nightgown watching me, head tilted to one side. I'm longing to slam the door shut but the kid could still be useful so I just smile at her. Eventually she turns away too and I can shut the door freely. This is easier than I'd expected. Much easier.

When we get back Dad beckons Mum into the main room and starts talking quietly to her. I can hear just enough to know that they're arguing. Cold fear rises in me. I hate it when they argue, because they do it so rarely. It has to be something important. Can it be because of Uncle Karl?

Just as I'm wondering this, I pass him. He's sitting, smiling softly. He smiles more when he sees me. I turn away and I hear his door shut.

As I get into bed, that smile flashes into my head. Never mind. First things first, after all. I have to think of a way to pacify Zeph...

I can't believe Karl managed it. This sounds mad, but I'd hoped – in vain, apparently – that he might've changed. But he tricked Ben. How could Ben've let himself be tricked? I voice my opinions again and Ben sighs.

“Look, I'm sorry, alright?”

“You should be.”

“I'm not going to argue with you, Evadne.”

“What are you doing then?”

“Please. I don't want to fall out.”

“I'm sorry. It's not your fault.”

“It is. At least partly. And I'm sorry for that.”

“And I'm sorry for being angry. I wasn't angry at you.”

“I know. I know.”

I glance at my husband and feel strangely reassured. Then the image of Karl flashes back into my head and anger takes over.

“You creature,” I whisper into the cold, silent darkness, “I will get you for this, I promise.”

I promise.

OK, so it's approaching midnight and the house is pretty quiet. Quiet enough I think for me to turn on the lamp without Evadne's bloke running into my room asking what the hell I think I'm doing. So I get out the 'memory box'. Haven't a clue how this'll help but I'm sure there has to be something useful in here. I sort through it, vaguely looking for something, though what exactly I couldn't say. I pull out an essay “Weird Things About Me” and have a quick look...

Weird Things About Me

I drink all my drinks with a straw, even water out of a water bottle because I think it smells bad.
I can't wear gloves with fingers because the texture gives me chills, so do peach skins, paper, abacuses, and bumpy things.
When I'm in the car I have to blink whenever the windshield wipers meet the middle between two dashes in my field of vision.
I have deja vu. A LOT. To the extent that it makes me dizzy and makes me feel sick.
If I eat things and I haven't washed my hands I have to throw away the parts I've touched.
There was more but I decided fairly quickly that this wasn't what I was looking for. I searched quickly further through and glanced interestedly at some photos of her and that boy. Perhaps he could be useful? I looked at some certificates, boring stuff like that. And then... then I found it. It was a crumpled, ripped piece of paper, but the things on it...

'Marsha Cavier, Prison Records only, must be different one, arrested for Dark Magic for Maria Daley there was absolutely nothing, Marsha Cavier has a husband, Brys Cavier, also one daughter, Caelyn Cavier'

So. Somehow she must've found out something about this and looked it up. I liked the kid's thinking. But who the hell was Maria Daley? I struggled with this for a couple of minutes before remembering my sister's fake name. Her husband's name: Daley. The fake name: Maria. But of course there would be absolutely nothing under that name. Now if she'd looked up Evadne Dux, how much would she have found out? Little doubt of that. And let her try to look up my name: Karl Wright, the name I was told was my own by Andrue, the name I'd grown up bearing. The name I only recently found out was entirely fake.

She'd find nothing. The BA were careful that way. I had my 'codename', “Flint”, and to anyone outside the BA that was my true name. By the disguises they gave me, no one would ever guess my true identity. No one would've guessed I was Enrichetta's son. The letter I wrote to my mother upon leaving mentioned that I was leaving for another area. This was what would've happened, but some trivial issue halted it and instead I grew up here, right under my mother's nose. And she never guessed. Until five years ago, she finally traced me down. And what a shock it must've been. This murderer, the Eritsaa'r, he was her beloved lost son. She must've been bloody horrified.

And what about me? Enrichetta, the Queen, is my mother. All those fond childhood memories of a mother supposedly lost, they were her. They were her. The unfairness of it all... I never even remembered running away, but I remember her... shit. Shit. I'm thinking about it again...

“I'm really, really sorry.”

“For what? For being better than me?”

That makes me mad.

“Zeph, I'm not better than you! I just said all that hateful, stupid stuff because I was in a mood with you, and you know it.”

“I don't care, El.”

And his tone startles me; the cold indifference of it, the exasperation.

“What – what do you mean?”

“I'm sick of you thinking you're better than me, that you're gracing me by being my friend.”

“I don't think that-”

“Yes, you do. I'm not stupid, El. Even if you think I am.”

“I never said-”

“I repeat, I'm not stupid.”

“Zeph, you don't mean this.”

“So you're deciding what I mean now?”

“Please, Zeph. You're my best friend.”

He looks startled at that; but only for a fraction of a second, a fragment of time soon gone, lost.

“Lottie is your best friend. And the others at your school.”

“Zeph-”

“I'm not some kind of puppet, your friend because you want me to be. So I beat people up. It's not the end of the world. Worse things happen.”

“Don't say it like that.”

“Why? Face the truth, El. I'm not a 'good guy' as you think of me. I don't care. I'm messed up and I fight people. I get detentions. You're a little Goody-Two-Shoes, a swot. We can't be friends. It isn't right.”

“Who cares?”

“That's just it. You expect me not to care. You expect me to have no feelings. Well here's a newflash: I do, like it or not.”

“You're not being fair-”

“I'm not bloody bothered whether I'm being fair!”

I look at him one last time.

Then I turn and walk away.

I'm worried. El came in today and slammed the door. She didn't say a word, just went up to her room. I think she's crying in there. Is it to do with Karl? Has he said something to her? Threatened her? I hate to think of him near my darling girl.

El, ignore him. He doesn't matter.

Unable to bear it anymore, I walk upstairs and knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“If you have to.”

“I do.”

Sure enough, her face is tear-stained. I sit next to her on the bed and put my arms around her.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“You can tell me.”

“Zeph's in a really, really bad mood with me. I think he hates me.”

Relief floods through my mind. It's only Zeph.

“I thought you were friends?”

“We were. But we had an argument, like I said.”

“About what?”

“Just... bits and pieces. I said some hurtful things because I was angry, and he thinks I meant them.”

“You'll just have to keep saying you're sorry.”

“Does that work?”

“It does. When he sees that you're desperate to make up with him, he'll agree to be friends again.”

“Not this time.”

“Why? What did you say?”

“It doesn't matter.”

I hug her once more and leave the room.

What on earth can my daughter have said to Zeph to create such an effect?

I'm summoned at five o'clock this morning by Band Eight. Has to be something important else they would wait. Gords doesn't even say it was "urgent news", just says that he really thinks I should see something. Of course I come at once. Gords doesn't say a word when I get there, just hands over this morning's newspaper. I stare, horrified, at the title.

"ANDRUE CRAIG, LEADER OF THE LEGENDARY BLACK ARROWS, CAPTURED TODAY"

I remember his last words to me, begging me to stay in the BA, saying this could be done by peaceful means. And I'd shrugged and simply walked away. Now he's as good as dead. He was like a father to me, a replacement for the parents I believed dead. Now he's gone too. A wave of grief and guilt washes over me and I sit down heavily.

"His trial's on November 13th," Gords murmurs, and I squeeze out a faint smile. Bowler turns to me and says, "It's alright, sir. He may escape, or be acquitted. He's clever enough."

He is, but there's no way he'll escape, and we all know this. Since Caelyn escaped the guarding for prisoners has been so strong there's no way anyone could've...

Another wave of shock washes over me as I realise that my mother ordered this. My own mother. I clench my fists as anger plunges into my heart. How could she? I hate her so much. I could kill her. My mother...

I can't go back to Evadne's. Not now. They'd ask questions and disturb me and... I can't live with that. I need to be on my own.

"Sir?" asks Gords, and I turn to him and manage to say, "It's alright... thank you for telling me."

He nods and Band Eight leave with a few sympathetic smiles. They know that he brought me up. They know... how could they not? That part of my history is no secret. It's about the only thing about the Eritsaa'r they know.

Bloody hell, I just can't believe it. How could Andrue have let himself be caught? How could he? Behind everything else, I feel angry. It's pointless, it's stupid, but I do. And my mother did that... oh god. It's all starting again... the hopeless anger overwhelming me like before I started the Cerox and started channelling my anger into schemes and fights. Before I know I'll be doing something stupid. Before I can help it.

I have to go back. Back to the Kingdom. I need to help him. I need to. Who gives a shit about the Wyretsi? I have to get him back. He was my mentor. He raised me. I take in a deep, shuddering breath. Inside me, deep inside, I'm sobbing like a child. But that's buried underneath years of self-control. Years of pretence. I wish... I wish I could sink down and weep. I wish life was that easy.

But it's not. It's painful and cruel and hard, so I'm left standing here trying to get a grip on myself. Wondering what my officers would say if they knew what I'm feeling right now. Wondering what my mother would say.

I close my eyes and bite my lip so hard I can taste blood in my mouth. Then I get up from the crouch I've unconsciously slid into and begin the walk back to Evadne's house.

I mustn't let them see how hurt I am. That of all things would be fatal. I feel sick and tired and cold. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.
Nothing's important.

"How are you?"

"How do you bloody think I am?"

"Still in a mood."

"Three cheers to you."

"Zeph. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please be my friend properly."

He smiles at that, a twisted thing that looks wrong on his face. "Am I your friend?" he asks pointedly.

"Yes. I think so. I hope so."

"You know, I don't think I am. I have a feeling I fell out with you over something."

"Zeph! What can I do to make you be friends with me again?"

He considers this. "Nothing."

I sigh. Honestly, what a pain he's being!

"See what I mean? You think you're better than me. You think I'm making all this stuff up."

"I don't-"

"Oh no? Yesterday you looked bothered by what I'd said to you. Yet look at you now. How long did it take for you to forget, decide it didn't matter? My bet's on the minute you got home."

"I didn't forget," I snarl at him, blind with anger and fury. "I was in a mood all evening."

"Oh, how frightful! Did Mummy come and cheer you up?"

"Did she hell."

"I tell you what. Give me one good reason. One good reason why I should be your friend."

"I-"

"I'm waiting."

What can I say? I'll admit it. I can't think of a single reason why Zeph should be my friend.

"You always used to be my friend..."

His face hardens. "Grow up, Ella. We're not children anymore."

I swallow hard. "Shut up."

"And you seriously think that's going to work? Oh, yes, I can't say another word now. Her Highness has given her orders."

"You bastard, Zeph. You're right, and I never realised. I never bloody realised. We can't be friends. You're just some weirdo who gets in fights and comes home and cries his pathetic little eyes out. Some annoying saddo who, because he has no friends, goes to me instead."

He spits on the ground by my feet and I step back instinctively.

"So that's how you think of me. I've always wondered."

With that he leaves. I want to shout after him, to call him back.

But I don't say a word, just watch him go, silent, unmoving. Unfeeling.

Goodbye.

By the time I get back, it's dinner. Oh, well. Let it go, Ella. There's something wrong with Uncle Karl today, aswell. He was so quiet you practically forgot he was there, and he only answered questions in nods and grunts. I thought at first he was scheming something, but now I think he's sad about something. He has that look – the grief and anger behind his eyes. I looked at him and it made me feel scared. Something really awful must've happened.

When I looked at him, as well, the anger got stronger. What was I doing to make his pain worse? I never meant to, whatever it was. I know only too well how awful it feels, after my argument today with Zeph. I think Uncle Karl's lonely. He doesn't have a wife or kids. He doesn't have a girlfriend.

He has us, I reflect.

Uncle Karl, hear this. We're your family.

We'll always be here for you.

Karl is behaving strangely tonight. I'd have said he was sad, but I don't trust what he shows us for one minute. I'll bet he's either doing it to direct attention to himself – away from something else – or to attempt to make El feel sorry for him. Worrying if it's the latter – she looked really sad earlier as she looked at him. I hate that he's doing all this right under my nose and I can't do a thing to stop him. I want to snatch El away; to hold her in my arms and protect her from that monster.

I glare at him as he passes me and am startled by the hate and anger in his eyes; a flame of cold grief and vengeance. That's when I know he isn't making it up. He isn't acting. Something must've happened. Something so terrible... It surprises me. I thought people like that – people like my brother - indifferent, cruel – had no feelings. Well, none that they displayed openly. But it's real, unless Karl's much, much better and acting than I thought. Which is a scary thought. And Karl Would never show me, or anyone in my family, how he truly feels about anything. Little though I know him, even I can work that out. Two possibilities spring to my mind.
a) This isn't really Karl
b) Something really, really, /really/ awful has happened.
I decide on the latter. Surely I'd be able to tell? And why would anyone want to pretend to be Karl? It's not as if we could tell them anything useful. We certainly wouldn't thinking they were Karl! Though it could be someone who doesn't know this. Or maybe it's one of Karl's comrades, covering for him because he's doing something tonight he doesn't want us to know about...

Let's consider the other option. Something terrible enough to affect Karl. Badly.

What on earth can it be? Another thought occurs to me: what has happened between Zeph and my El?

Anyone? I'm needing some help here...

Well, here I am a day after his capture and no more information's come my way. His trial's in a fortnight so I doubt if there'll be much to learn till then. And I've realised that there's no way I can go back. The Wyretsi'll capture me too and then where will I be? Then where will the Cerox be? I've sent Band Five, my strongest, to investigate, though there's little chance of them finding anything useful. I wonder... if I went to my mother and pleaded for Andrue's life, would she help? When I saw her, when she told me, it seemed like... she acted like... like she loved me, I guess. But does she love me enough to release the leader of the BA for me? I doubt it.

I wouldn't do it anyway. I'd rather die than throw myself on Enrichetta's mercy. I'd rather she burnt me. Like she would've burnt Caelyn, if she hadn't escaped. My sister, I realise, my own sister killed Caelyn. That's what the rumours were. I think it's true. She's not strong enough to kill anyone now, but from what I've heard she was wilful as a child. She ran away to piss her mum – my mum – off, not because she was bothered about Caelyn. So why couldn't she have killed her?

A party of ghosts glide past. I almost forgot it was Halloween. I feel a pang of regret that I try to shake off. I never did anything like that in my childhood. No, I spent my time learning complicated spells... I go back to my sister's house. I have nothing else to do.

Evadne and the bloke are hanging up Halloween decorations, and I can't help feeling slightly wistful. The kid is bouncing around grinning because she's having a party tonight, and generally the mood is quite happy.

“Do you want to help?” Evadne asks. I stare at her.

“You're not serious?”

“Yes, I am. I think we assumed you were going to be... I think we got off to a bad start, and I want to make it up to you.”

I look at the streams of orange tissue paper she's hanging from the door handles. What harm could it do? I pause. Wouldn't it be wonderful...

Unable to look my sister in the eye, I stare at the carpet and nod. Even without looking up, I can see the beam Evadne casts at me.

“That's great! You can start by helping the kids with the pumpkins.”

I walk next door, and wonder briefly what the hell I'm doing. Then I shrug. Give me one night. One measly night of being normal.

As it turns out, the kids are perfectly happy to accept me as one of the helpers and within minutes I'm helping them carve out the foul-smelling insides of the pumpkins. I help with a few games, sort out a quarrel, and before I know it I'm good old Uncle Karl to half the kids.

It's... wrong. This isn't me. I'm the Eritsaa'r, not a bloody child minder. But after all... it is only one night. What harm can it do?

I'm hanging up some black-and-orange streamers when Karl walks in. I see the look on his face, almost yearning, and ask if he wants to help. He seems doubtful but to both our surprise, I think, he says yes. I'm so glad. Karl seems so... lonely. He seems to miss out on everything. I'm beginning to think that he doesn't have to be the way he is. He could change. And I've appointed myself the Changer.

Think of it as a challenge. See if I can change a twisted, hating man.

I really, really don't think I'll succeed.

I smile as I see him helping the kids with the pumpkins. He seems so different. I say, “You've really gotten into the Halloween spirit,” as I pass him, as a sort of test. The Karl I know would take this as an insult. But he just flashes me a sheepish smile and carries on walking. I really, really don't know what's gotten into him.

I was completely wrong about Uncle Karl when I thought he was... you know. Evil. Bad. He was really great! He helped me with my pumpkin, not making me feel like an idiot even though I was really crap at it. But I'm not truly happy. There's one thing keeps bugging me, over and over again, though I'm trying to push it from my mind.

Zeph didn't arrive.

But it doesn't matter. I don't care about Zeph. He's an idiot, and it's his loss. Besides, I've finally realised what a bastard he is. Feel sorry about fighting my arse! He doesn't care. He never cared – just said that to soften me up because he wanted to befriend me from the start, just so he'd have someone to point to when people said, 'Do you have any friends?' I hate him. I really do. I think I could probably even kill him. Well. Maybe not. But still... I'm better off without him.

What an idiot you've been for all these years, El. How very stupid you've been.

“So what the hell are we supposed to do? Is it our fault he's so cut up about that bastard that was captured?”

“Shhh! He'll hear us!”

“How bloody old are you, six? He'll hear us my arse!”

“Look who's speaking!”

“Oh, you think you're so clever, with your shitty comebacks-”

“For God's sake, shut up!”

“Oh, not you, too.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“MY problem??”

There is a sigh, and Bowler's voice calls out,”Sir?”

“Yes?”

“You can hear us, can't you?”

“Crystal clear.”

She sighs and walks into the clearing, followed by the rest of Band Eight.

“I'm not that fragile,” I inform them. “I actually can look after myself.”

I turn on Gords. “Do you have something to say about 'that bastard that was captured'?”

“No, sir.”

“I thought so,” I reply, smiling. “And next time please at least try to keep your voice down.”

“What did you call us here for?” Price ventures.

“I just wanted you to know that, despite what happened yesterday, you still have to search for information about the girl.”

“Yes, sir,” they reply promptly. They hardly disguise their confusion and I don't blame them. But I'm not about to tell them I called them here hoping hope against hope that they'd have some information that could distract me from how I'm currently feeling.

“Have any of you found anything interesting?”

“Well, sir,” begins Price, “about the husband. It's not exactly wonderful, but we thought you might want it.”

He hands over some printed-out sheets of paper.

“All the things I could find about him on the Internet.”

I turn to Bowler. “And while he's been doing this you have...”

She smiles. I recognise that look, the smug Oh-I've-found-something-alright look I've grown to hate over the years.

“I hacked into his email account, sir. Been doing some quite interesting enquiries, he has.”

She hands me a slip of paper with his details on.

“I'll look that up when I get back,” I agree. “Definitely worth five seconds of my time.”

She gives me the weirdest look and I turn to the others: namely Carner, Tait, Dais and Barnes.

“You lot found nothing then?”

“We watched the house all day with Gords but nothing,” admitted Tait, and Barnes nodded in agreement.

“Well...” Dais murmurs. She's a quiet but useful soul, so her input especially is valued. “Well, she and the boy talk together every night, from what we've seen. He could be held for ransom or... something like that...”

I nod. “Thanks, that'll be great.”

A picture of me handing out sweets last night crosses my mind and I wonder momentarily what my officers would say had they seen me then. It's funny, I feel great from doing that, which is weird because... I would've never thought of myself as that kind of person. I've never had much contact with kids though so maybe that isn't surprising...