‘Where did you—’
‘This is what mine and Dodie’s work involved,’ Atlas says darkly. ‘Kidnapping babies.’
‘Keep walking straight up,’ I tell Karim, ‘until you reach a field. She’s waiting for you.’
He nods nervously as I turn to Sophie. ‘You should go with him. Now’s your chance to—’
‘To live as a fugitive for the rest of my life?’ Sophie glares at me, then glances at Atlas. ‘If his rebel friends burn Wyvernmire tonight, I want to be here to watch.’
Next to me, Karim is locked in Marquis’s embrace.
‘Be careful,’ Karim tells him fiercely.
Marquis nods, his hands cupping Karim’s face. ‘You too.’
They kiss – one chaste kiss – and I stiffen. Marquis glances at me, as the secret we’ve guarded all these years finally emerges into the open. Then Karim walks up into the forest and I lean against my cousin.
‘You’ll see him again soon,’ I say.
He forces a smile. ‘I know.’
It strikes me then that we couldallgo, Atlas, Marquis, Sophie and I. Climb on to Chumana’s back and fly away from Bletchley tonight. But Iwantto be here, I realise. I want to see the rebels with my own eyes, want to watch as Wyvernmire witnesses her stupid plan backfire.
And I want to be the one who makes sure she never sees a single translation of the Koinamens.
‘Atlas!’ a voice hisses.
I jump, then relax. A pale face, lit up by a lantern, is peering out of the back window of the glasshouse. Dr Seymour.
We pile through the window, stepping through the mess of wires from the reperisonus machines, and Dr Seymour hands Marquis a second lantern. He lifts it towards the two loquisonus machines on the sofa, their brass speakers glinting in the light. Next to them is a hammer.
Sophie’s eyes widen. ‘We’re going to destroy them?’
‘It’s the only way to keep them out of the wrong hands,’ Dr Seymour says. She passes the hammer to Atlas. ‘That can be your job. Sophie and Marquis, I need you to move the sonar blockers. Get them as far away from here as you can. We have to make sure they don’t interfere with any echolocation calls sent by rebel dragons flying over the glasshouse.’
Marquis nods and he and Sophie creep back outside.
‘And me?’ I say to Dr Seymour.
‘The indexing system,’ Dr Seymour replies. ‘And the logbooks. Every translation we’ve made has to go.’
I feel my stomach drop. I glance at the box of index cards on the table, months of hard work. All about to be destroyed. Atlas looks at me, the hammer held between his hands. I nod. Then he lifts the hammer over his head and brings it down on to the loquisonus machine. It smashes into a hundred pieces, sending splintering glass across the sofa and floor. He lifts an arm to protect his face as glass continues to skitter, then brings the hammer down again. I wince at the noise.
‘Where is Soresten?’ I say to Dr Seymour, realising I didn’t see a guard outside.
‘I saw him talking to Muirgen this evening. He seems to have abandoned his post.’
I feel a fizz of hope, then unease. Has Soresten deserted Wyvernmire to help the rebels? Or has he gone to warn Queen Ignacia?
‘How do you want to destroy this?’ I ask Dr Seymour. ‘We can’t light a fire.’
But Dr Seymour is already dragging a bucket of water towards me.
‘Soak it all,’ she says.
I take a handful of index cards, each one covered in my handwriting, or Sophie’s, or Gideon’s, or Katherine’s. I read the lists of trills and skrills and sweeps and feel a strange rush of grief. I plunge the cards into the water. They float for a moment, then sink. In a few minutes, I’ll be able to mash them to a pulp. I help Dr Seymour push more papers into the bucket, ripping page after page out of the logbooks. I jump as Atlas hits the loquisonus machine one more time, then pulls the second towards him.
We don’t have a choice, I tell myself as I stare at the most beautiful invention I’ve ever seen lying twisted and bent on the ground. Dr Seymour, I notice, hasn’t looked at it once.
