A few older Society members turned around to peer curiously at Unit 919, and she might have imagined it, but she thought their eyes lingered longer on her than the others.
She felt a weight on her shoulders. The words of Elder Quinn’s speech were still ringing inside her mind, and she had a sudden, deeper understanding of her place here.
It was even more obvious to her now why she had felt so much quiet animosity from the older scholars since they’d learned she was a Wundersmith. It wasn’t simply that everyone in Nevermoor knew Wundersmiths were dangerous. The Society knew exactly how dangerous they were. Exactly how chaotic and messy, exactly how their actions – even from many years ago – could leave scars and unhealed wounds on a city, hiding in plain sight. They knew because they were still cleaning up the mess.
Still, Morrigan said to herself, sitting up a little straighter and shaking off her glumness. It wasn’t me. I didn’t make a load of snake thingies and vulture-people, for goodness’ sake.
She resented being lumped in with Ezra Squall and every other Wundersmith who ever lived. She wasn’t a cursed child any more, hiding in the second sitting room at Crow Manor, writing apology letters for ruined jam and broken hips. She had as much right to be here as anyone else.
Morrigan lifted her chin, kept her eyes on Elder Wong, and ignored all the sly backward glances.
‘… and once again representing the Geographical Oddities Squadron today is Adriana Salter, Unit 871,’ Elder Wong was saying. ‘Mrs Salter, are you the only one picking up the slack in the Odd Squad – why don’t I ever see the others here? Tell Miles we’ll expect him next time. From the Department of Unnimology and Naturalism, Dr Valerie Bramble …’
The introductions went on for some time, and Morrigan found it hard to keep track of all the different organisations mentioned. As Elder Wong called their names, representatives from the Unusual Engineering & Infrastructure Advisory Board, the Architectural Anomalies Association, and the Gobleian Library all stood up from their seats and waved, acknowledging brief applause.
‘… from the League of Explorers,’ Elder Wong continued, and Morrigan’s ears perked up, ‘Captain Jupiter North, Unit 895 …’
Jupiter was here! She’d never seen her patron visit Wunsoc unless it was for something to do with her. She sat up straight, peering down over rows of heads much taller than hers to see a dramatic crop of bright ginger hair atop a beaming face half-hidden by beard. He’d dressed with his usual sense of theatre, Morrigan noticed: smart waistcoat and trousers in brilliant bubblegum pink, sky-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of sparkling, electric blue glittery brogues.
He knows how to be seen from the cheap seats, she thought, smiling for the first time that afternoon.
When Jupiter stood, turning to acknowledge a round of applause much more enthusiastic than the others had received (and even a couple of wolf whistles), his eyes scanned the circular room. Morrigan knew he was looking for her. She was too embarrassed to draw attention to herself in a room full of people, but Hawthorne had no such qualms.
‘Jupiter! We’re up here!’ he shouted, waving both arms over his head.
Sliding down several inches in her chair, Morrigan hunched her shoulders up so high she might have been wearing her armpits as earrings. Fortunately, nobody heard Hawthorne over the raucous clapping, and so she quickly reached up to yank him down to his seat by the back of his shirt.
‘… and finally, representing the Beastly Division, Gavin Squires of Unit 899. Now Mr Squires, I believe you wish to begin?’
‘Thank you, Elder Wong,’ Gavin Squires called out as he leapt up to take centre stage, wheeling a small trolley of equipment. He was a wiry, energetic man, and covered in gnarly scars. Given that he was wearing a sleeveless vest and shorts on a cold day, Morrigan suspected he was quite proud of them. ‘All right, everyone. I think you all know we’re coming up to a very special time of year …’
There were a few knowing groans in the audience, and someone actually said ‘Oh NO’.
Gavin grinned shiftily, an amused little twinkle in his eyes. ‘Oh yes. Oh YES, my friends, the most wonderful time of the year is coming on fast – that special day we all look forward to – ladies and gentlemen, you know it and you love it …’
He paused to fiddle with the equipment and a moment later, a huge, moving, three-dimensional image of the ugliest creature Morrigan had ever seen in her life was projected upwards into the vast space. She felt herself physically recoil from it, and she wasn’t the only one.
‘… that’s right, it’s the short but magical breeding season of the NEVERMOOR SCALY SEWER BEAST!’
Morrigan had heard of the Nevermoor Scaly Sewer Beast, but she’d never seen it before, and truthfully, she’d never been certain it was real. The image was of a strange, yellow-white serpentine creature with transparent eyelids covering milky red eyes. Its bulbous belly hung low to the ground and it had six lizard-like legs ending in long, sharp claws. Its scales were rough and patchy, and entirely absent in random spots, revealing raw pink skin underneath. It had a long, powerful-looking tail that snapped back and forth in a threatening fashion. Its jaws opened wide to reveal a mouth full of far too many sharp curving teeth to be reasonable, and a forked, blackish-blue tongue.
‘All right then, all right,’ Gavin continued, holding up his hands for quiet. ‘You know the drill, people. The Scaly Sewer Beast breeding season brings many hundreds of nasty little baby beasts with their nasty little venomous teeth into our sewer system, and if we don’t control the population growth we’ll find Nevermoor overrun with these gigantic mummy and daddy versions –’ (he pointed at the picture) ‘– in just a few short months, ’cos they grow up quick, the precious little blighters.
‘Now I know this is nobody’s favourite job – plenty of us have been injured in the annual sewerfest, and the smell takes days to leave the old nostrils – but someone’s got to put their hand up to help us trap, tag and relocate these wee beasties outside of the city. There are sixteen of us in the Beastly Division, and I reckon we’ll need another dozen helpers. If I don’t get enough volunteers, some of you might just get voluntold. So, show of hands please: who’s keen to rid Nevermoor’s sewers of their scaliest scourge?’
A few senior scholars reluctantly put their hands in the air, and a handful of older members, too. Thaddea’s hand, though, shot into the air so fast it might have had an engine. The rest of Unit 919 turned to look at her in horror.
‘Thaddea, you don’t seriously want to crawl down into the sewers to round up a bunch of those … things?’ Anah asked in an incredulous whisper.
‘You don’t seriously think I’d miss a chance to fight the Nevermoor Scaly Sewer Beast?’ Thaddea whispered back at her, practically bouncing up and down in her seat to be seen by Gavin.
‘Right, that’s eight brave volunteers, thank you very much,’ said Gavin. ‘And I’ll also take Mitty Hayward, Susie-Lee Walters, Phyllis Lightyear – yes, I know you did it last year, pal, that’s why I want you back. Shouldn’t have done such a good job the first time around, if you didn’t want to get chosen again.’ There was a rumble of laughter as Phyllis made a rude hand gesture at Gavin, who ignored it. ‘Oh! We’ve got another volunteer up the back there … What’s your name, my young friend?’