The castle of King Quercus lay at the center, an ornate H signifying the capital, Hellebore. But his eyes veered off east, west, north, and south, picking out the few still inhabited settlements scattered far from the capital: the carting unions of Cowley, the armories of Moss-side, the bakers of Pudding Lane. And between these carefully illustrated hives of activity, the map had only printed names to denote towns and villages long gone, leaving only rotting woodways and cobwebbed hollows — Ulm, Backwater, Gall, Canker, and the plague towns of the North. These were places no Dendrans willingly went. Who would want to rub shoulders with their ghostly ancestors?

Ark traced his finger to the left, to the west and the ring of mountains beyond which was supposed to lie a forest undisturbed: the Ravenwood — empty trees, devoid of Dendrans, green holes filled with unlit ways and stories about what happened if you go down to the wood today. What had Goodwoody meant about the feather being a gift from Her? Surely the Ravenwood, with its dark queen feasting on the innards of any Dendrans stupid enough to be caught, was a myth?

Mucum shoved a plumbing belt into Ark’s hands. “What’s with the daydream? Come on, let’s get out of this squithole before it’s too late,” he hissed, grabbing his friend by the hand and pushing him toward the door.

Mucum was right. What was up with him? He began buckling up the new belt. But his fingers fumbled and the whole lot clattered noisily to the floor. Disaster!

Jobby Jones’s nose did more than twitch as two pairs of beady eyes shot open and swiveled around. Jones was awake. What was more, he was staring directly at the two boys.

“Elms bells! If you weren’t dead before, you will be now!” whispered Mucum.

9• TIME TO ACT

Jobby Jones was trying to come to grips with what his eyes were telling him. Just this morning, they’d gathered a paltry collection of coins for the Malikum family. So what was this?

Ark and Mucum froze. How could it be explained away? The boy who was dead was alive. No doubt their greasy boss would sniff out any potential reward for informing Grasp’s guards of this fascinating fact. Jones’s bed lay near the door and he was already rising off it, blocking their escape.

Mucum had a sudden brain wave. “Start groaning!” he hissed out of the side of his mouth.

Not only was Ark trapped, but his best bud had gone barking mad. “You what?”

Mucum mouthed a single word: Dead!

A split second of hesitation and then Ark twigged. Though he’d never been known for his acting skills, what did he have to lose? Ark raised his arms up and groaned loudly. “Erghhhhh!” For more effect, he let his tongue hang out and crisscrossed his eyes.