The Song Rising

by Samantha Shannon

  I drifted to the corner of the street, my arms folded. I heard him say ‘give me a moment’ before he came after me.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No one else can know.’ I spoke quietly. ‘Nick, I trusted you when I told you about Warden. I need to be able to trust you, of all people. If I can’t—’

  ‘You can.’ He took one of my hands. ‘I’m sorry. I nearly lost you. I already lost Zeke. I just feel . . . I don’t know. Powerless.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not an excuse.’

  Powerless was the right word for it. It was how I had felt in the river, and in the warehouse, knowing that Vance had played me right into her hands. I was a queen at the mercy of pawns.

  The rickshaw appeared at the end of the street. Nick looked wretched. I had never argued with him, not once, and I didn’t want to start today. ‘It’s okay.’ I squeezed his hand. ‘Look, if Zeke’s there, I’ll be as kind as I can. And you know I’ll try my best to persuade him to join us.’

  He hugged me close. ‘I know. Take this.’ He tucked a heat pack into my pocket. ‘I’ll talk to Dani now.’

  I wrapped my hand around the heat pack as the rickshaw trundled away, but the cold was in my blood. Snow floated around us, catching in my eyelashes and the wispy curls around my temples.

  ‘Paige,’ Eliza said, ‘what did Nick mean, when he asked if it meant you weren’t focused, either?’ When I failed to conjure a suitable lie in time, she nudged me in the ribs. ‘You’d better not have slept with Hickathrift behind my back.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

  Eliza smiled, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. She knew I was keeping something close to my chest.

  A blood-smeared sky greeted us in Covent Garden. Early morning shoppers were out in force, waiting around the stalls and outside shops for the post-Novembertide sales to begin. I smoothed my scarf over my face, watching for any hint of a military presence. I imagined the wind taking my scent right to Vance.

  An alarm went off as we crossed a junction. Vigiles were wrestling a weeping augur away from an oxygen bar, cuffing her hands behind her back. We walked as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion, going in the same direction automatically. After all, we both knew where Jack Hickathrift would be. There was only one place the mime-lord of I-4 could reside if he expected to be taken seriously.

  Seven Dials had been garlanded with red and white lights for Novembertide, which were being taken down. In mutual, wordless understanding, we walked past the entrance to the den, to the sundial pillar.

  I laid a hand on the bone-pale stone. This had been the keystone of our chaotic world, the heart of the syndicate as we had once known it. I had stood before this pillar when Jaxon had made me his mollisher. Eliza circled it in the same way I was, as if to remind herself that it was real. Behind it, on a nearby building, a line of bleached graffiti was just about visible.

  BACKSTABBERS NOT WELCOME

  Amaurotic workers and shoppers were giving it nervous looks. Our underworld was invisible to the people around us, but it was dangerous to linger. Eliza blew out a breath, reached into her coat, and took out a key. A label hung from it, reading BACK DOOR in Jaxon’s elaborate cursive.

  We opened the courtyard gate and passed the blossom tree, which had been stripped bare by the winter. In the hallway, we stamped the snow from our boots. As Eliza stepped on to the first-floor landing, her muses flew in and swirled wildly around her aura. Pieter was particularly overjoyed, bouncing around in the æther like a firecracker.

  ‘Guys, it’s okay,’ she said, laughing. ‘Oh, I can’t believe you’re here – I thought Jaxon had taken you!’

  I left them to get reacquainted. ‘Hey, Phil,’ I said, when he did a celebratory twirl around me. Pieter gave me a sullen sort of nudge before he returned to his beloved medium.

  They couldn’t come back with us. Jaxon had long since bound them to the den, and unless we could find and scour away the blood he had used to tie them here, they were trapped.

  On the next floor, I paused outside the door to my old room, feeling as if I had wandered into a museum. When I set foot in it, I found it devoid of everything I had squirrelled away over the three years of my employment. My precious, lovingly curated chest of antiques and curiosities from the black market; the bookshelf full of blacklisted literature and records – all gone. Even the bed was missing. The painted stars on the ceiling were the only evidence that someone had ever lived in here.

  An aura brushed against mine. I turned sharply. Jack Hickathrift was standing in the doorway, dressed in a poet shirt that was open to the waist. One hand had been on the knife at his belt, but he let go of it at once.

  ‘Underqueen,’ he said, with a deep bow. ‘Your pardon. I thought it might be an intruder.’

  ‘I feel like one.’

  ‘I’m sure. This must be very strange for you.’ He opened the door wider. ‘Please, come through.’

  He led me into the adjacent room, which had been Jaxon’s office. Everything was still in its rightful place. I took a seat on the edge of the chaise longue, while Jack sprawled on the couch, leaving the mime-lord’s chair empty. ‘Do I hear another guest downstairs?’ he asked, just as Eliza sidled into the room, pursued by her muses. ‘Ah, the famous Martyred Muse. I’ve heard many tales of your talent from the market.’ He held out a hand for hers and kissed it. ‘May I offer you both a drink? I found a very fine brandywine at the Garden.’

  Eliza sat beside him. ‘Sounds intriguing,’ she said, smiling at him.

  Jack raised his eyebrows at me, but I shook my head. He observed Eliza with interest as he reached for the bottle.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what can I do for you, my queen?’

  ‘I’d like an update on what’s been happening in the section.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘First – has there been any sign of the White Binder?’

  ‘None,’ he said. ‘I highly doubt I’d be alive if he was still anywhere close.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘What about two remaining Seals?’

  At this, Jack pursed his lips. He poured Eliza a generous amount of brandywine.

  ‘When I came to the section, I found them in this building. I offered them shelter, as you requested, but Nadine refused, and Zeke had no choice but to go along with it. Fortunately, he persuaded her to leave without violence. She said they were going to find the White Binder.’ He passed Eliza the glass. ‘It seems Nadine was the one who plotted the destruction of the Juditheon, spurred on by those who see her as Jaxon’s rightful heir. They were trying to attract his attention, to let him know that he still had loyalists in the citadel.’

  That was why Didion and I had been the targets. We were the living symbols that things did not always go Jaxon’s way. I thought of the graffiti on the wall outside this den.

  ‘It seems clear now that this last-ditch attempt to summon him failed.’ Jack motioned to the vacant chair. ‘According to my sources in the Garden, the small movement has since collapsed. And now there are no more Seals in I-4, you have nothing more to fear, my queen.’

  Nothing more to fear from Jaxon’s supporters. And a little less to fear from Terebell.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It seems like you have everything – and everyone – under control.’

  I stood to leave, as did Eliza. Jack kissed her hand again, lingering for a little longer than before. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you,’ he said silkily. She left with another winning smile.

  Terebell would be pleased to know that there was no more threat from Jaxon’s loyalists, and that the last of the Seven Seals had gone – I had at least obeyed her on this – but there was nothing else to celebrate. If Nadine and Zeke had gone to Jaxon, they were already in the Rephaim’s clutches.

  As I made to leave, Jack held up a finger and reached into his pocket. ‘I almost forgot, my queen. Zeke asked me to get this to the Red Vision,’ he said, and handed me a scroll. ‘You need not read it. It’s a love letter – a
very romantic one, albeit tinged with the heartbreak of separation.’

  ‘You know it’s considered impolite to read other people’s mail.’

  He smiled. ‘I consider it my responsibility, as mime-lord, to know exactly what transpires in this section.’

  I placed the scroll into my inner pocket, making sure it was buttoned in. It might give Nick a little comfort.

  ‘Underqueen,’ Jack said, and I looked up, ‘I hope I don’t presume too much to make you an offer.’ He turned his come-hither eyes on me, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘All syndicate leaders have need of succour. The position of Underqueen is a taxing one.’ His hand came to rest high up on my waist. ‘If you ever wished to have a . . . private audience, you know where to find me.’

  He was so close that I could smell the spice oil on his skin, see every silken detail of his face.

  He wasn’t who I wanted.

  ‘Jack,’ I said gently, stepping away, ‘we hardly know each other. I’m flattered, really, but—’

  ‘I understand,’ he murmured. ‘You already have a lover.’

  ‘Yes. No. I mean—’ For goodness’ sake. ‘Whether or not I do, it doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be taking you up on that offer. But I do appreciate your loyalty. And I thank you.’

  He frowned a little as he smiled. ‘For what, Underqueen?’

  I kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘For putting your knife through a man’s neck for me.’

  ‘We call the Swan Knight, mime-queen of IV-4. What matter do you wish to bring before the Underqueen?’

  We were only halfway through the audience and requests from the syndicate were coming thick and fast. The voyants parted to let the Swan Knight through. She had been soundly thrashed by a berserker named Redcap during the scrimmage, and used a cane to approach the dais. Her request was for money, for repairs to a damaged building in her section.

  I was seated between Glym and Wynn, listening. A film of sweat covered my collarbones. I had promised to grant this audience, but I was desperate to be back on the streets, gathering information. I needed to know if the report was true. And I needed to see Danica. She was still our best and only link to Senshield, and we couldn’t stop looking for the core.

  A soothsayer came forward and pleaded for food. Wynn promised that the Pearl Queen would help her. Another petitioner asked me if his cell could be relocated, as there was a new scanner in his area and they didn’t like having to get so close to it every day.

  ‘I know I’m a sensor, not at risk,’ he said, making me tense, ‘but I can’t stand walking past it. We all hate it. The lower orders can’t even go out.’

  I said I would consider moving the cell to a neighbouring district. Others asked if I could do the same for theirs.

  I imagined how much worse it would get if the fourth order really could be detected.

  The final person to come forward was Halfpenny, mime-lord of II-5. Like the Swan Knight and Jack Hickathrift, he had been the mollisher of a grey marketeer and had come to power when his superior had died in the Rose Ring. He was heavily tattooed, with eyebrows he dyed marigold. We had exchanged a handful of words in the past.

  ‘Underqueen. The Glym Lord came to one of my cells last night and asked for volunteers for an assignment – an assignment in which you were involved,’ he said. ‘One summoner went with him. I wish to know where he is now.’

  Glym glanced at me.

  ‘I’m afraid he won’t be coming back. I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘He was killed by paratroopers.’

  Whispers. Paratroopers. A military word, not one that had been heard often in this citadel.

  Halfpenny folded his fleshy arms. ‘What happened?’ When I didn’t answer immediately, he said with an air of real disappointment, ‘You said you’d be different from Hector. We shouldn’t have secrets here. I want to know exactly what you did.’

  This was the first time anyone had challenged me in public. He had the right to do it, but I bridled. ‘I can’t reveal the nature of all of our assignments, Halfpenny. We’re moving against an empire, a militarised empire. If anyone were to betray our plans—’

  ‘First you let the Jacobite walk free,’ he continued, to resentful muttering from the audience, ‘and now you’ve baited them into attacking us, at a time when we’re already under serious threat from Senshield. Why were there paratroopers in the capital, if not because of you?’

  ‘Listen to this. You’d think the Underqueen was on trial,’ Wynn cut in. ‘She doesn’t have to justify herself to you. You were happy enough to do as Haymarket Hector demanded without question, but now Paige is Underqueen, you whimper and whine. Take your disrespect elsewhere.’

  At this, several voyants began to murmur agreements. Others, however, were clearly ruffled by the sight of a vile augur speaking with impunity at the side of the Underqueen.

  ‘I did my best to change things under Hector,’ was all Halfpenny said. ‘In my section, at least.’

  Wynn snorted.

  ‘Binder wouldn’t have risked our lives,’ someone called from the corner. ‘And you betrayed him. Who’s to say you won’t turn your back on us, too?’

  Silence ruled in the basement of the Mill, broken only by a gasp. I waited several moments before rising from my seat.

  ‘This syndicate,’ I said, ‘is a monarchy. Its leaders’ power is passed not from parents to children, but between Underlords and Underqueens. Ours is an authority based not on the blood of our families, but the blood we spill on the ashes in the Rose Ring. That blood is our promise. It was my promise that with my crown, I would only ever do what I thought was best for my people – and I promise you now that I would shed blood again for any of you. And I expect to, before this is over.’ I paused. ‘This audience is finished.’

  My nape was burning as I left the basement. Halfpenny had been reasonable enough, considering I’d broken his nose during the scrimmage.

  The other high commanders – except for Minty, who was at Grub Street – were waiting for me in the surveillance room. I could tell from their faces that they had news for me. Quietly, I locked the door behind Wynn and took my seat, trying to tamp down the rising consternation.

  ‘Paige,’ Maria said, ‘it seems the report was accurate.’

  Those few words punctured what was left of my confidence.

  ‘How do you know?’ I said.

  Tom sighed. ‘A whisperer was taken this morning. I knew him. His aura was yellower than a lemon.’

  Shock washed over me. I hadn’t wanted to accept it, but now I had no choice. The four most populous orders of clairvoyance were visible, their years of walking the streets at an end. That left a fraction of us who could roam London without fear of detection.

  And all because I had gone into the warehouse without ensuring that our information was reliable.

  ‘Vance used my aura to improve Senshield.’ I kept my voice low. ‘We need to focus on damage control.’

  They were all silent, watching me.

  If I told the syndicate the truth, many of them might blame me for our new vulnerability. If I lied, and they found out anyway, their reaction would be much worse. Either way, I needed them to believe as I did: that revolution was crucial to our survival. If we were to endure with four of the orders in this much danger, that belief would be vital.

  ‘I have to speak to the Unnatural Assembly about this,’ I said. ‘To warn them.’ I hesitated. ‘I should . . . tell them the truth about how Scion did it. I don’t want to rule with lies.’

  ‘I wouldna do that, Underqueen,’ Tom murmured.

  ‘They have to know that they can trust me. If I lie to them—’

  ‘You won’t be lying,’ he stressed. ‘You’ll be leaving something out, for the sake of harmony.’

  ‘Perhaps you should take the rest of the night to consider this, Underqueen. It will be difficult to bring the Assembly together during curfew, in any case,’ Glym said. ‘It would be prudent to wait until sunrise.’

  He had a point
. I would only put them in more danger if I forced them outside now.

  ‘I want them all at St Dunstan-in-the-East at five A.M., before Weaver can make any early announcements,’ I conceded. ‘I’ll tell them myself that the fourth order is in danger, and I’ll hold a vote on what we should do next: go into hiding, or stay on the streets. Whatever the outcome of that vote, I’ll have to ask the Ranthen to sanction it.’

  ‘Never mind a vote. Those of us who are detectable must hide,’ the Pearl Queen said. Maria gritted her teeth. ‘Well, what else is there to do? Senshield is intruding farther and farther into our lives by the day. Personally, I have no desire to be pounced upon by Vigiles if I stray too close to a letter box. Let us not put pride over sense.’

  ‘This is the Mime Order’s decision to make. Together.’ I sounded much calmer than I felt. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Be there at five, not a second later.’

  They murmured their goodnights and went their different ways; Maria patted my arm as she left. I took the stairs to the ground floor, wearing a mask of unconcern, and walked straight into Nick, as I headed for the doors. My muscles felt so spring-loaded with tension that I flinched away from him.

  ‘Paige?’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t see you. I’m just—’ I stopped when I saw his face. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Dani. She’s gone.’

  I shook my head. ‘Gone?’

  ‘Every trace of her: her clothes, her equipment, everything. No sign of a struggle.’

  ‘That means nothing.’ I gripped his arm. ‘Nick, she could have been discovered—’

  ‘I doubt it. They would have stayed in the hideout to lie in wait for her allies.’

  If she hadn’t been taken, then she had left us of her own accord. My first deserter, and it was Danica, of all people. Danica Panić, the last person on earth to run from a problem.

  Surely she hadn’t gone to Jaxon.

  ‘Eliza saw her earlier, and she didn’t say anything. I think what happened at the warehouse really shook her, Paige.’

  The words dug out a hollow in my chest. ‘That’s our last link to Senshield gone,’ I said. His face reflected my disquiet. ‘Maybe it’s time for us to approach the Vigiles. Like Warden said, they want Senshield destroyed as much as we do, and they might have information. We can’t give up on finding the core. Destroying it is the only way.’