Because if she isn’t, then it’s all my fault.

Later that day I take up scissors and start cutting his hair. When I first met Obel his hair was shaved, then he let it grow to a neat crop, but now it’s a straggly, matted mess.

I know I am doing it badly – too short over the ears, raggedly cut over his eyes. But I carry on cutting, snipping away the tangles.

“He wants me to mark you,” I tell Obel. “To paint you like you were before. Why?”

“Because he wants a public marking.” I almost drop the scissors in shock, but Obel raises a hand. “Oh, not for me – he wants me to make the mark. I don’t know who will be marked, with what or why. A new teaching, he said. He will – what was it – ‘take the people’s pain away’.” He shrugs. “I’ll do as I’m told.”

“Obel,” I chide. I hate the defeated tone of his voice. It scares me – like he has lost enough hope to make him reckless. It both frightens me and thrills me. I want to be brave. I will make my own armour and fight by his side. If only I knew what the war was.

Obel and I are sitting next to each other, leaning against the stone wall of his cell, when Mel comes to collect me. I’ve done enough today – tomorrow is for marks and I can only hope his skin settles well enough overnight for the inks to go on smoothly and cover the gaps.

That night, I wander the museum again, and again I see Jack Minnow and watch as he treads guiltily towards the hall of remembrance. No one is so faithful as to visit the hall every night, and especially not Jack Minnow

Whatever he is hiding in these night-time shadows, I will bring to light.

Chapter Nine

I dream about Oscar – dream that he is on a hospital trolley. The nurses shake their heads and tell me he is gone, and they pull the sheet up over his face. I shout and draw back the cotton cover and his face is a mask – a mask only. I tear it off and beneath the mask is a grinning Sana.

“Dead? Alive? It makes no difference in Featherstone.” She smiles a horrible smile. “Join me, Leora. Take my hand and walk with me.” And she towers over me, a giant – a monster. A warrior. She holds out her hand to me.

I reach out.

I wake before I see what happens next – whether or not our hands touch. I don’t go back to sleep after that. I just wait for dawn, letting my mind paint Obel’s marks over and again. I will make him perfect.