The chatter begins from the people farthest away from the stage. It is hard for them to see white on white – the cobweb delicacy of the ink on Gull’s pale skin. Their questions ebb forward and the answer flows back: “The blank is marked.” The roar hits as my foot strikes the stage. The people aren’t impressed – they see a blank in inked clothing, an imposter, blasphemy personified.

And they will not stand for it. They surge to the stage, trampling those who move too slowly. A guard moves to prevent them using the steps, but he is punched mercilessly and falls under their feet. I have barely a second. I rush forward, barge Longsight out of my way and take the microphone off its stand. I am the only help that is going to come.

“People of Saintstone!” I speak into the microphone but am not heard above the chaos. I yell. “People of Saintstone, stop and look at me!” It is like watching dominoes fall as one person sees who it is that addresses them and alerts their neighbour – the buzz passes through until all the focus is on me, the crowd still screaming in thirsty rage.

“Do not be hasty. Do not behave in a way that would shame your ancestors.” I’m having to scream every word. “Whatever you do today will be on your conscience and in your soul for ever.”

Sensing a tiny shift in the tension of the crowd, I risk a glance over my shoulder. The people who were storming the stage are held back for now. Gull looks bewildered and her eyes meet mine, silent, screaming terror. I see a glimpse of the friend she was – the friend who was always afraid, the one who always wanted to get it right and yet even her own people called her a curse. She stands here rejected again. She’s followed the rules, she’s got it right – done her best – but it is not enough.

More guards pour into the square from the government building and now that the crowd is under control their focus switches – to me.

I unwind the shawl that covers my face.

“I am Leora Flint. Your traitor, your fugitive.” The guards on the stage edge closer, like dogs being told to wait by their master. Mayor Longsight looks on, his bafflement turned to delight, gloating and gratified that he has smoked me out. “I don’t ask for you to believe me – I only beg that you hear me.” A shift behind me; a guard is distracted. “I am not here to ruin you or betray you – I am here for the truth. The truth is that you cannot trust those who lead you. You are being lied to every day. The mayor’s marks that disappeared, his resurrection – they are a lie!”