“And the sea began to boil and water rose up into a huge tower that took the shape of a woman. The woman looked down at Neptune, sitting on Nullor’s rock in the marshes. Then she looked at Neptune’s rock in the sea, where Nullor was still fast asleep, worn out by the day’s excitement. Seeing that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be, she lifted up the sleeping Nullor on the back of a wave, and sent him far across the seas, to the dark side of the world, where he could rule over those oceans all by himself. Then she set Neptune free, and gave him back his nice trident. And that’s the way it has been ever since. Neptune rules the oceans as far as we can see, while his brother rules the oceans on the dark side of the world.”

Marina sighs, and pushes back from the table. Nanna, too, gets up.

“But Jorzy,” says Babet, “why didn’t the mother kill Nullor?”

“Good question,” he says. “The mother could see that Nullor had been driven by jealousy. So she couldn’t just send him back to the marshes, or he’d do it all over again. And she didn’t want to kill him, because he was her son. She banished him instead. D’you think that was fair?”

Babet frowns, thinking it over. “Yes,” she decides, “that was fair.”

“What would you have done, ratfinks?” asks Jorzy.

I feel in my pocket for the folded knife, and curl my fingers around it. Again I’m thinking of the Director, and remember Jorzy’s secret plans.

“I would have killed him,” I say simply.

* * *

Waiting again behind the lion statue, I see Emee come out of the house almost as soon as I get settled. She crosses the street, pausing at the bottom of the steps. In one hand she holds the goggle-eyed dog, from her other hand dangles a drawstring bag.

“We’re going to the park,” she says, adding graciously, “you can come too, if you like.”

She sets off down the street. I count to three, then follow. It’s not far. A few doors along, she turns in at a gate. A path runs through trees. It’s like a cemetery and I glance around expecting to see gravestones. The Cerel parks are cemeteries. Yet here there are only trees and benches, as if we are in the country, though I’ve only got a hazy idea of what the country looks like; there are probably trees and fields and rustic cottages where peasants roast sausages over open fires.

There aren’t many people in this park. Two littlies streak past, running a metal hoop between them. An old woman sits on a bench beneath a linden tree. A mother walks a baby in a pram with enormous wheels.