“I assure you that I don’t call these gatherings lightly. No, I brought you here to be my witnesses – to share in something truly wonderful. For today, this very morning, a miracle has happened. Yes, another! We will be used to miracles before long.” His mouth twists into a knowing smile. But miracles aren’t meant to happen every day, I think. That’s the whole point.

He points to the crowd, picking out a person near the front whose brown hair and bright eyes shine as she looks up at her leader. “You,” he says, “come up to the stage.”

She raises her eyebrows and points to her chest, questioning, Me? Really? Longsight nods. “And you…” He points to another person and another and another. There is an excited bustle as guards help the blushing, smiling people on to the stage. They stand a few metres away from the mayor, looking at each other in surprised wonder, not ready to believe their luck at being chosen. But chosen for what? Jack Minnow steps up to the stage too – acting as a bodyguard or an assistant. He stands close to the mayor, face impassive.

“You watched, just a week ago, as I was inked,” the mayor continues. “You saw it happen – you knew I went willingly under the needle so that our friend Philip did not have to.” He knows how to whip the crowd into an excited rabble and they respond exactly as he will have planned: applause, stamps and whoops of praise.

Mayor Longsight holds up his right hand, to hush them. “I deserve none of your acclaim,” he says solemnly. “I was simply obeying a command. Following my calling. My ancestors told me what to do while I ate at Death’s table.”

I can feel my cynicism pressing on my shoulders. I look across at Mel, who stands next to me. For the briefest moment, scepticism is written on her face too.

We must be careful.

“When I woke this morning, it was from the most beautiful dream,” the mayor tells us. “A dream where I found a hidden waterfall – I can still hear it if I close my eyes – the roar and rush of it. In my dream, I removed my robes.” As he speaks, he unties the belt on his robe. “And I stepped forward, the water freezing on my bare feet. I did not stop – I did not fear the cold.” He tugs at the tie and his robe falls open, shrugs it off his shoulders so it rests in the crook of his elbows – we can see his chest, his breath strong and steady. He takes a step forward. “In my dream I walked into the beating flood.” His robe drops to the ground. “And the water washed away my sin.” He moves to the front of the stage – no microphone needed now, for his body says it all.

The mark that Obel made on Mayor Longsight’s arm is gone.