the landing door, close it behind me and crouch there. Blood pounds in my ears. What if the Tribute wants this floor? But Iâm trapped now.
The steady clump of her boots follows the stairs down. Closer and closer. I hold my breath, but the boots pass on without a break in rhythm. A wash of relief. Iâm trembling slightly as I frown into the silence. The guard must have come from the room where Otter has taken Aidan. But why she was there, waiting for them?
In less than a minute, Iâm back on the floor above, encouraging my feet to silence as I approach the door where the guard appeared. I was right. They
are
in there. I hear raised voices from inside the room. Actually, one raised voice. The other is low and quiet. I recognise them at once: Aidan and Otter.
â
 â¦Â go and get stuffed!
â Aidan isnât shouting. His voice is too full of concentrated scorn for that.
âWhat kind of man are you? You havenât even got a proper name â youâre called after an animal, for fuckâs sake. Youâre nothing but an intellectual eunuch â doing that monsterâs bidding. Why donât you slaves join together and fight back? He canât kill all of you. Youâre a coward! Iâd rather be dead than be his creature.â
âYou wonât be given the opportunity to choose.â Otterâs voice is still quiet, but thereâs an edge to it Iâve never heard before. The Maker has got under the Guardianâs skin, something Iâve never managed to do.
âThe Lord Benedict has been extremely patient with you, Maker.â The Guardianâs voice is heavy with threat. âBut his patience is at an end. This is your workroom. It is equipped with every tool you might need. You will repair the clock shrine waiting on the work table. You will start immediately. Or you will be punished.â
I edge closer to the door. I need to see inside. Itâs tiny magic: even an adept would hardly notice. The door latch is made of oak, a stubborn wood. But I convince the wood fibres that they want to float on the thickening air. Slowly, carefully, I lift the latch with my mind, push the door open as far as I dare and peer inside.
The Guardian is looming over Aidan, trying to intimidate him physically. The Maker is a head shorter and half as wide. Otter could break him in two with his bare hands and they both know it.
Damn Aidan!
Why is he doing this? Why canât he just repair the shrines? Pride? Sheer stubborn stupidity? Partly, but I think he doesnât know what heâs facing. He doesnât know my father.
I start to call out, then press my hand over my mouth. I canât help Aidan. I have to trust that Otter wonât actually kill him. If I interfere, Benedict will find out Iâve disobeyed him and probably put me under full surveillance. I canât afford that now. Not when I might at last be of real use to the Knowledge Seekers.
The emotion swirling around the room is making me dizzy.
Two people?
I never sense the Guardian â Otter is a blank. That means thereâs a third person in the room. Someone terrified, almost to the point of collapse. I edge sideways until I see him cowering a few steps behind Otter â a little boy dressed in the black tunic of a Tribute. A thin child with bushy white-blond hair. His face is white with horror. His mouth is open as though heâs crying out, but he makes no sound. I hear it though â his unspoken scream. It wails inside my head.
âYour apprentice is waiting.â Otterâs voice is hard. âYour tools are ready. Start working.â The tension in the air rises like steam.
I bite my lip, heart thudding.
Please, Aidan! Do as youâre told!
But the Maker raises his chin, blue eyes narrowed and glinting. âGet stufââ
Otterâs hand lashes out and slaps the word from Aidanâs mouth. The force of the blow lifts the Maker off his feet and