how did the Ringmaster even know the informant could be trusted? What if it was just a trick? A trap?
The Darkening King would be rising soon. George and Lucy were on some mission and Ned had been relegated to … well, sitting. And that was when he admitted what was really eating away at him. He placed Whiskers on the bare mattress and looked at his ring. No matter how many times he’d tried, it remained dormant, and for all Ned knew it would stay that way forever. Ned had gone back to being the boy he was before he’d found the Hidden.
Completely and utterly average.
If only he could talk to Lucy. She was bound to have some idea of what was ailing him. Maybe she was even suffering from the same problem? He sat with his two mute sidekicks, feeling in nearly every possible way both powerless and pointless.
But that was the thing about the Hidden, and most particularly about his friends at the Circus of Marvels: they didn’t care what Ned could do – they just cared that he was there.
It came as a pounding of feet, a gabbling of whispers and excitable banter. By the time they’d reached Ned’s door, they were in such a frenzy that Rocky, the Russian mountain troll, put his fist straight through it.
“NIED! Why for you hide in here?!”
They burst into his room in an avalanche of colour and noise.
“Ned, love, it’s you! All this drab grey we’ve bin putting up with … Just this mornin’ I was sayin’ to Rocky how we needed a bit of colour, and here you are!” warbled Abi the Beard, and proceeded to hug him so hard he thought his eyes might burst.
With them were Grandpa Tortellini and a good half or so of his seven grandchildren, all whooping out a “Hey! How-a ya doin’?” and the occasional satyr-horned bleat. Scurrying along the ground were the three emperors, Julius, Nero and Caligula. The thieving pixies were far less jubilant when they realised there was nothing to steal, and decided instead to make up for it by harassing Gorrn, who hid in Ned’s shadow with an “Unt”. Monsieur Couteau managed a less than sneery salute from the doorway before excusing himself, and was barged rather gruffly out of the way by Scraggs the cook, carrying a large tray of doughnuts that he’d baked especially.
“Extra jammy, Ned, just like you like ’em!” rumbled Scraggs, who, to Ned’s wonder and despite their new pristine surroundings, had still not taken the time to wash his chef’s apron.
Finally there was a welcome trumpeting and Ned’s eyes lit up as Alice the elephant, who was too large to get into the room, popped at least part of her loving and leathery face through the doorway.
“Hello, girl!” he grinned and got up to pat her trunk.
“Arrooo!”
Breathlessly they launched a verbal assault of questions, to which Ned really had very few answers – mostly because of the speed at which they came.
“How are your ma and pa?”
“What’s going on, on the outside?”
“You been eatin’ properly, sonny?”
“Nedolino, and de-a training, tell us – how you-a doin’?”
“Once you rested, you come with Rocky, da? I show you base, very big, very interesting.”
It was only when the fourth doughnut was shoved into his face that Ned realised why they were quite so happy to see him. His beloved old troupe, at least the ones that were here, had not been out of the confines of their Nest for months. Keeping the travelling kind cooped up for too long was like trying to bottle frogs and they were positively jumping out of their skins.
“You met the spider yet?” asked Abi.
“Mr Spider? Only briefly.”
“Me no like ‘googly’ eyes. He always stick nose in business and always with de rules, Nied, so many rules.”
“They’re a serious ol’ bunch these greys, Ned. Keen, mind you, keen to learn our ways – but ol’ goggle-eyes is about as much fun as a wet rock.”
Through all the banter and jam, the jeering and grins, Ned saw something else. The fate of the world was hanging in the balance, unimaginable evil poised to spring up from the ground and devour them all, but their eyes had never looked as clear or bright. Whatever the world was about to throw at them, the diminished Circus of Marvels would see it head-on and together.
Ned might well have lost his powers, but he had most certainly found his “point”.
“Bene?”
“Yes, pup. Rise and shine – we’ve got a mission.”
“What? I thought you said—”
“I have to say a lot of things when it comes to your parents, Ned. Most of all, I have to not tell them when I ask you to do something dangerous.”
Ned rubbed at his eyes. “What kind of dangerous?”
“The informant’s lead I told you about earlier – its location is not entirely ideal.”
Something of an alarm bell sounded between Ned’s still-waking ears. “And by ‘not entirely’ you mean …?”
“Russia, Siberia, Ned. It’s in the reservation.”
There was a low and rumbling “Unt” from beneath Ned’s bed, followed closely by a “Scree” and some incredibly fast blinking from his mouse.
Ned, thankfully, was able to pick his words more eloquently. “Barking dogs, Bene! Have you lost your marbles?!”
“If we intend to beat this creature, it’s the only way.”
Ned would have gone in an instant but for one glaring factor that the Ringmaster had not taken into account. “Bene, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. The Darkening King is rising because of me and Dad. It’s just that I don’t know how much use I’ll be.”
“It’s not because of you, Ned. And by the way, I know about your Engine – your parents told me everything, just before I drugged them.”
Ned’s ring finger buzzed and there was a slight shimmering in the air, before it fizzled away to nothing. Not even real anger could spark the thing, not any more.
“You did what?!”
“They’d never let you go, with or without them, and our best chance is to sneak in unseen. I can’t say that your loss of power isn’t an issue, Ned, but we really don’t have any choice.”
Another bell dinged behind Ned’s eyes. “And why is that?”
“The creature we are going to see will only help you, not me. Word has spread of your deeds, pup – it wants an audience with you specifically.”
Ned wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the sound of that, and he dreaded the answer before he’d even asked the question. “And this creature … is it a Demon?”
“Oh no, Ned. It’s far, far worse than that.”
“And I suppose you’re not going to tell me what, because you aren’t telling anyone anything?”
“That’s