‘And here’s what I think you know now. There were more killings, weren’t there? Right here in Sanctuary, right after Marcus got here, killings that made you realize that the Shadow had now struck in here. Until the Council—or more likely Robert—realized that it was Marcus, the boy he’d brought back with him, who’d been the Shadow all along and here he was, right in their midst. That was what the Council wanted with him. It wasn’t to expel him, like you told me, June, it was to try him. To try him for those killings, and all the others. Only Robert wouldn’t let you, would he? What did he say to you, I wonder. That Marcus didn’t know any better? Or that you couldn’t execute a child? Or that he just wouldn’t stand for it? It doesn’t really matter, though, the point is he got his way, didn’t he? I’m sure it wouldn’t have been the first time. And so it was all hushed up, and the Shadow, which was never really a Shadow, just a boy with a talent for killing, it was made to just go away. Isn’t that right, Father?’

Father said nothing. Albert went on. ‘You know, suddenly a whole lot of things are making sense. Like why Ucho seems to hate Marcus so much. He’s on the Council, he’s known the truth all these years, and it must have irked him to no end. And this explains something else too, something I always wondered about. Why Father and the Council let him stay even after Robert vanished when it was so obvious nobody wanted him here. On the way here, June said people were afraid to ask him to leave.’

His mind was working seemingly of its own accord, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place one by one. He turned to look at Father. ‘But that wasn’t the reason, was it, Father? You weren’t afraid to ask Marcus to leave. You were afraid of what would happen if he agreed.’

From the corner of his eye, he saw June glancing quickly at Father, and that was all he needed to know that he had it—that this was why the old man was so distraught.

He went on. ‘So as it turns out, Kieran and I got it wrong and Joe got it right. The Shadow of the Tunnels wasn’t a ghost or a demon or a spook. It was Marcus. Marcus, not Cillian.’

Father swung around to look him. ‘Did I hear you right?’ he said sharply. ‘Did you say Cillian—’

He broke off as two soldiers entered the tent, taking up positions on either side of the partition. Father glanced towards them, then quickly looked back at Albert. ‘Is that what you said? Cillian? Answer me!’