“Well I have,” said Maeve, “and take it from me, London’s not the center of the world. Our only chance for a decent future is to get out. I’ve been arguing for this since we set up camp here. Now’s our chance to do it properly. If we head north up the A1 and then follow the M1, in two or three days we’d be clear of the city.”

“All right,” said Arran. “You’ve made your point. All those in favor of going to the palace with Jester, put up your hands.”

Ollie carefully counted the show of hands.

“And anyone in favor of Maeve’s plan, put your hands up.”

Arran was surprised at the number of hands going up in support of Maeve. Once again Ollie counted. But it wasn’t enough. The vote had gone Arran’s way.

“That’s it, then,” he said. “It’s decided.” He hauled himself up out of his chair and walked over to Blue.

“What do you reckon?” he asked. “You coming with us, or do you need to take a vote as well?”

“We don’t need no vote. We ain’t no democracy, man. I’m in charge. End of story.”

“And?”

Blue stood up and looked Arran in the eye.

“We’re coming.”

They gripped each other’s hands. It felt good to be doing something for themselves. Then Blue turned to Jester and the light went out of his eyes.

“If you are lying to us, though, Magic Man, you are dead.”

Small Sam wasn’t dead. That thought was firmly lodged in the back of his mind. He wasn’t dead. When they’d put him in the sack he’d thought that that was it. All over. He’d fainted, and when he’d woken up he was being jostled along on one of the grown-ups’ shoulders. The grown-up stank, but the sack smelled worse. Of grease and rotting meat and poop. Sam didn’t like it in the sack. He couldn’t see anything. He’d wet himself.

They’d brought him to this place and dumped him on the floor. He had no idea where it was. He was still in the sack. It had taken them about ten minutes to get here. They’d carried him up stairs. Lots of stairs. They must be somewhere high.

At first, whenever he moved, one of the grown-ups would kick him, and if he whimpered they’d kick him again. Then someone had sat on him for a while, but once he’d stopped struggling, they got off him. He’d lain very still after that, as still as if he’d been dead, and they finally left him alone.

So he was still alive. For now. He knew, though, that unless he was very lucky he probably wouldn’t make it through the night. He had no doubt at all that the grown-ups were planning to eat him. That’s what they did to the kids they captured. The only reason they hadn’t already eaten him was that they were too full.