Page 77 of The Bone Season

‘I don’t understand why the Buzzers come here,’ I said. ‘What stops them attacking anywhere else?’

‘They could be drawn to the Rephs.’

‘Why, because they’re from the same world?’

‘No idea. Just guessing.’

I fell silent, grinding my jaw.

‘You’ve got more questions,’ David said. ‘It’s fine. I’ve missed parlour games.’

‘There was an uprising here.’ I glanced at him. ‘Know anything about it?’

‘Yes.’ David nodded towards the door. ‘Let me show you.’

We moved to stand in a small room, where he lit a torch, mounted in an iron bracket on the wall. Its light revealed a stone memorial, surrounded by humble offerings: candle stubs, acorns, dead leaves and straw, and the spidery yellow flowers of a witch hazel.

‘It began on Novembertide,’ David said, his voice low. ‘A group of Rephs hatched a plot to overthrow the Sargas family. Their plan was to destroy Nashira and evacuate all the humans to London.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Rephs going against their own?’

Liss had never mentioned that.

‘So the story goes. Since there were so few conspirators, they needed a lot of humans on side,’ he said. ‘But someone betrayed their plans: XVIII-39-7. One weak link, and it all came tumbling down. Nashira had the perpetrators tortured in the House – hence the only name they’re known by now, the scarred ones.’

‘And the humans were killed.’

‘All but Duckett.’

‘Was he the traitor?’

‘No. He hid during the carnage, then pleaded for his life. Other than him, rumour has it there were two others – the traitor, and a child.’

‘Why would Scion send children here?’

‘Easier to brainwash. That new polyglot can’t be more than twelve,’ David said. ‘Duckett swears the child lived, too. He was the one who cleaned up the corpses – one of the grisly terms of his survival.’

‘But the Buzzers eat flesh.’

‘Not the shoulder, apparently.’ David tapped the spot where he was branded. ‘Duckett claims he never found the girl. But this says otherwise.’

He crouched beside one of the offerings. A stuffed toy, limp and dirty, with buttons for eyes. Around its neck was a note. I picked it up and held it to the light.

XVIII-39-0

‘Those flowers look fresh,’ I murmured.

‘Probably the harlies,’ David said. ‘I doubt the Rephs involved are still here.’

A deep hush descended. I laid the toy back among the flowers.

‘I think I’ve seen enough,’ I said.

David walked me back to Magdalen. There were several hours left until dawn, but the training had taken a heavy toll, and all those stairs had put my body through the wringer. I needed to sleep.

When we reached the door to the Porters’ Lodge, I turned to David. The lanterns cast a strong light on his face, revealing freckles.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘For the information. And for showing me the memorial.’

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