The Old Men, all he had known of them until the last few weeks was as nursery rhymes and figures of mystery in Shadow Council tales. Cadell had discussed them in more detail, but it had rarely been specific, as though he was ashamed of his past. Now Cadell was dead.
Beneath his hunger, he felt the familiar pull of Carnival. It hadn’t taken long to assert itself. Who was there to control it now Cadell was gone?
David looked over at Margaret. She stared at him curiously, and there was a fierce challenge in that gaze, a silent demand that he give up every secret he possessed. Oh, he had so many of those now! But then again, so did she, starting with those iron ships. He looked away. He didn’t trust her, not really. Cadell’s blood stirred inside his veins, echoing the sentiment.
And then, a new urgency gripped him: how could he have let it slip his mind?
He had to deal with the corpse.
“Where is Cadell? Where have you put him?”
No one could look him in the eye. Buchan cleared his throat, but it was Margaret who spoke.
“Oh, David, that’s the worst of it. Cadell’s body is missing.”
