The Queen's Mischief entered Mrs. Fleet's parlour through holes in the walls and ceiling. They brought word that the invasion of the city had begun, but so had the Carnival. One could no longer tell monster from government agent from ordinary reveler. A pall of hopelessness fell over the girls, it was too late and there was nothing they could do.
At least things could not get worse, thought Clara.
Events conspired, however, to prove her most certainly wrong.