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job, working for the Fellowship of Master Liverymen. Willow didn’t know what the fellowship actually did, but she knew what she was supposed to do, and that was enough. And besides, anything was better than her life in the orphanage. The liverymen wore fancy clothes on official occasions, including long-tailed coats. It was her job to follow her master, carrying the tails of his coat so they did not trail in the dirt. There were eleven other girls and boys employed likewise, one for each of the Fellowship. That was the full extent of their duties, but since there were at least two official occasions every day, they were kept busy enough carrying coattails and brushing off mud where necessary. After three years, she had been told to take a coat to the Great Theater, where they required the costume of a liveryman.
    Willow had immediately fallen for the excitement of the place. It was thrilling. She had begged Korp for a job and had begun scrubbing floors that afternoon. She never went back to the Liverymen and they did not come looking for her-there were plenty more urchins to be had. After Willow had spent a week doing odd jobs, Madame B had arrived and immediately demanded a personal assistant. Her last one, a man with a weak heart, had collapsed carrying her cases of costumes on the journey to the City.
    Willow was not fond of her mistress, especially this evening, when she’d blamed Willow for not bringing her hairbrush home after the performance. “Go back. Get Korp to open up,” she’d snapped, even though she had hundreds of brushes at her lodgings. So Willow had set off.
    That was how she found the side door to the theater flapping open in the chilly night air, and how she walked cautiously into the auditorium, already sensing something was wrong, and how she stood halfway back in the stalls, looking at the stage, when she felt it raining on her head.
    She noticed that the footlights were faintly glowing. That too was odd-they were very expensive to run. Then she remembered she was inside and that it couldn’t be raining.
    She put her hand to her hair and felt the wetness. It was warm. In the dim light coming from the stage she looked at her hand and screamed.
    It was covered in blood.
    She looked up to see the head and shoulders of Korp’s corpse sticking out of the box’s window.

12
    Green gave Boy’s throat another gentle squeeze. He had one of his huge spadelike fists wrapped around it, though not tightly.
    Not yet,
thought Boy.
    Despite the fact that they were in full view of everyone in the tavern, Boy had no doubt that Green would snap his neck like a dry reed if he wanted to. The Trumpet had its own laws, and one murder or another was probably nothing to these people.
    Boy stood in front of Green, who sat with one arm outstretched, his fingers raising Boy onto his tiptoes. Even like this, Green was taller than him. At least it meant Boy wasn’t looking straight at Green’s foul face. He had a wide nose, with nostrils that had obviously been split in some fight or other. The whites of his eyes were yellow and watery; his lips were like two slugs sitting on each other. His hair was thinning and his scalp was diseased. Boy tried not to look, and anyway, he had other things to concentrate on. He had been standing precariously on tiptoe ever since he had had the nerve to approach the giant.
    “What do you want?” Green had bawled.
    “I-I-” stammered Boy. “I’ve been sent to-”
    “Ah!” said Green. “
He
sent you, did he? Too scared to come himself! Perhaps I should just give you what I was going to give him!”
    Boy nodded, and next thing he knew he was balancing on the ends of his toes.
    “He sent you?”
    “U-hurrrr,” squeaked Boy.
    “What?” shouted Green, letting Boy drop a little onto his feet.
    Green scowled and shook Boy briskly. He put him down again. “Tell him to come himself. I only deal with him. Now get lost!”
    Boy fell to his knees, choking. Hearing the tinny notes of