A bell clanged somewhere. Once, twice, three times. The crowd fell silent as the echo rang back from the cliffs and fled across the salt pan. Pilgrim looked towards the sky above the balloon and the glare of the searchlight beams and the little fires that outlined the enormous graving of the flowersipper. He was holding his breath. His heart was beating beneath his throat. Stars crowded the black sky above the salt pan’s spectral glow. Nothing moved amongst their rigid patterns. The crowd stood silent and still, some with heads bowed, some with faces tilted skyward in rapturous anticipation. It was a moment both solemn and silly. When Pilgrim shared a look with Poppy he had to swallow the urge to laugh, and yet he wanted to believe. Despite Intrepid’s forewarning, he wanted to see the lights of the visitors dance across the night. He had come so far and given so much for this moment and he ached for it.

Nothing happened, and nothing continued to happen. The crowd began to grow restless again. Someone shouted, ‘Show us!’ and someone else called for quiet. A man behind Pilgrim whispered, ‘He’s giving it up.’

The balloon was descending. There was a scattering of hooting and foot-stamping as its basket touched the ground. Several orange-shirts rushed towards it and helped Foeless climb out. After what appeared to be a brief consultation the amplification machine made its mechanic clatter and Foeless Landwalker’s voice boomed out.

‘You tried. We tried. Some nights they answer our message and some nights they don’t. This is one of those nights when they didn’t.’

He had lost the charge and energy he had possessed at the beginning of the ceremony. It was as if he had been defeated, but could not understand how it had happened or what it meant.

‘You did your best,’ he said, and then seemed to gather up a little of his vigour. ‘We did our best. We should acknowledge that.’

The orange-shirts on the platform hooted and stamped, but only a few people in the crowd took it up.

‘We really did,’ Foeless Landwalker said. It sounded as if he was talking to himself now, not his audience. ‘But do you know why the visitors did not show themselves tonight?’

A pause. If he was waiting for a response, it did not come.