One breath, two, and I change my plans, heading along instead to the building where Bit and his mother live. Ducking into the doorway at street level, I walk along the dim hallway into the building, my boots loud as gunshots on the wooden floor. Five flights of steps, dusty and creaking like the deck of a sailing ship. At the rust-coloured door, one knock then I push it open. Bit’s mother doesn’t bother keeping it locked. If Black Marks want to get in, she says, a lock won’t stop them.

Bit looks up in surprise. He’s in the middle of sweeping the room with a twig broom and his face goes pointy with anxiety when he sees me.

“There’s something going on,” I tell him, propping my rod in the corner.

A grumbling voice comes from the other end of the room; his mother still in her bed. “Is that you, Leho?”

Bit, catching my excitement, goes ahead and answers for me. “I’ve got to go out for a while, Ma.” We’re already at the door. “I’ll finish my chores when I get back.”

Our boots clatter down the wooden steps, then we’re out onto the street. A man with a determined expression goes past at a fair clip, obviously knowing where he’s going, and we follow him.

“Where d’you think …?” Bit wonders.

“The House of Law,” I say. It’s the only possible place all these people could be going, and I have a bad feeling about what’s happening.

There are more people on the streets as we get closer to the Via Parada, until we’re soon part of a tightly packed crowd of Cerels marching along the pavement as if on their way to a festival. From up ahead comes the cry of a sausage vendor. Above, a small, gaily-painted airship hovers, sending paper streamers down into the crowd. It’s a holiday mood. In fact, looking around, I reckon a lot of people have been given the morning off work. There’s even a band that strikes up a cheerful tune. Me and Bit turn into the Via Parada.

I can’t believe my eyes. The street is closed off and it’s full of people, both Cerels and Travesters alike. There are beer stalls, giving away free mugs of beer, and the delicious smell of roasting sausages. We push our way along the street towards the House of Law. Outside the iron gates sporting the bear insignia stands a huge covered truck surrounded by people holding bundles and carrying boxes. One of these women might be the sister of Boss, and I keep an eye out for him. A platform has been set up and as we make our way forwards the Director appears with several other men in long black coats. The Director steps up onto the platform and speaks into a loudhailer.