Page 16 of The Bone Season

‘It is purple,’ I said.

‘It’s clearly red.’

‘What are you, a painter?’

‘Well, no, I just—’ Seeing my face, he said gravely, ‘Red and purple can be easy to confuse.’

‘Yes.’

He took the hint and dropped the subject.

His mention of the pamphlet had left me with a churning stomach. Scion must have taken my backpack, and with it, my annotated copy. I could never have got such a thing without knowing the writer.

Scion would have no mercy on a member of the syndicate.

Even as I thought it, I scanned the room. I didn’t recognise anyone, which was probably for the best. Jaxon had many enemies.

‘I don’t know about you lot,’ the whisperer said, ‘but I’ve got no idea what’s going on.’ Her eyelid twitched. ‘Where are we?’

‘Must be a new wing,’ said a soothsayer.

‘What?’

‘It can’t be,’ Carl croaked. ‘Why would they flux us just to move us around?’

‘To make us easier to torture,’ a medium said, her gaze distant and blank. ‘That’ll be why we’re here. To be interrogated.’

A clouded ringing filled my ears. I talked a big game on the streets, but I had no idea how strong I would be if they put me on the waterboard.

The oracle spoke: ‘Where do you think we are, exactly?’

That earned him several frowns.

‘The Tower of London,’ the medium said. ‘You really don’t know where you’ve been locked up?’

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘How long haveyoubeen locked up?’

‘I lost track after three years.’

‘Three.’ A hoarse laugh from the corner. ‘Lucky for some. Try nine.’

Something wasn’t adding up. Scion didn’t put voyants in prison – not to our knowledge, at least. Anyone who was detained was executed without trial. There was no need to store us.

‘When were you caught?’ I whispered to Julian. ‘Do you remember?’

‘About two weeks ago, I think.’

‘We’re not here to be tortured. They’re ending it,’ an augur said. ‘We’re in for the swing today, and I’m glad.’

‘No.’ A taut voice, another soothsayer. ‘We’ve all seen hanged voyants. They’re never dressed like this.’ She pulled at her gilet. ‘We’ve been … chosen for something. I think they’ve pressed us into the NVD.’

Julian nodded, his face clearing. ‘There could be a shortage of volunteers.’

‘As if we’d ever stoop to rubbing shoulders with those spineless bastards,’ the first augur muttered. ‘Better to hang now and be done with it.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ the oracle said.

There was a long silence, broken only by the palmist, who was trying to stifle her sobs on her sleeve. She sounded heartbroken.

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