Dead of Veridon bc-2

by Tim Akers

  "Now look, certainly that couldn't account for the entire force. Could it?" Plumer asked. Angela answered him. She was still on the floor, watching me strut around. I wondered if they had to install a special ramp, or some kind of mechanical lift, for her dais.

  "Probably not the entire force, no," she said. "But enough. And something could have happened to the balance."

  "Something?" I said. "Something, Ms. Tomb? Tell me, what happened on the docks yesterday morning. What is the official report?"

  "A fire," she answered, keeping her face calm. "The conflagration swept the docks, killing many poor citizens of the city. And quite a few officers, for that matter."

  "Quite a few. But we both know that isn't what happened. Because I was there. And the officers I had the opportunity to speak with about this" — I turned to Plumer and smiled — "while incarcerated, I'll admit, Mr. Plumer; I do have a reputation to maintain — those officers believed that that is what happened. Which means that the Badge itself doesn't know the truth of the matter."

  "The truth of what matter?" another of the Councilors asked. Angela didn't take her eyes off me, didn't move. Waited. I nodded to her and addressed the Council.

  "There was another attack on the river. An attack by these cog-laced dead, the former Fehn. It was brought about by a device that I was hired to deliver, a device that apparently transformed most if not all of the Fehn into these creatures."

  "So it's the Fehn that are attacking us?" one old lady asked, fluttering a fan at her face.

  "No, my dear. Not of their own will, at least. They have been changed, by a man recently come to our city. A man who claims to hold the power of the Artificers in his hands." I held up my hands. "Before you gasp and exclaim that the Artificers have been gone for a hundred years or more, please consider the nature of the attacks that you have seen." I let my eyes linger on Lady Bright. "Consider what force could do such a thing. What sort of power it takes to move the living and the dead."

  "Who is he?" Veronica spat, and I saw a little of the madness in her. "You've met him, so tell us who he is. We'll hunt him into the earth."

  I turned to Angela and held a hand out to her. She gave me a quizzical look. Didn't she know? She had to know. Didn't she?

  "His name is Ezekiel Crane," I said. "And he is in the employ of the Family Tomb."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tearing Apart the God

  She didn't know.

  Angela stood staring at me, as much shock on her face as her little brass pistons could manage. The rest of the room exploded. There were calls to arrest her, to unhand her, calls for guards, guards. They were all met with silence.

  At the middle of the storm, I stood with Angela.

  "What are you doing to me?" she asked.

  "You didn't know it was him?"

  "No," she shook her head. "I didn't… I had no idea. He was a doctor, for papa. He's very sick."

  Papa. Not a word I'd ever heard her say. Ever expected to hear her say. Strange little machine-girl, and her papa-in-a-tomb. Tried to get my head around that.

  "I think he followed Alexander in," I said. "Met him on that trip upriver. He… gods, it's loud in here."

  Wilson slid up next to me, nodded to the Lady Tomb, then handed me my shotgun.

  "Are you sure you weren't a butler in a past life?" I asked him.

  "Be serious, Jacob. I was a monster in a past life."

  "Well, either way. Thank you."

  I raised the shotgun and fired into the air. The report reverberated through the chamber, and the buck went up into that priceless stained glass dome, shattering it. The splinters seemed to hang in the air for a second, and then rained down on us in glittering shards of pure light. When the last of the panes had scattered on the marble floor, I raised my head and looked up at the raging sky.

  "Forgot that was there," I said.

  Angela giggled (actually giggled!) and held her hand over her mouth.

  "Oh, Jacob. You make such a mess of things."

  "I do, don't I?" I shouldered the shotgun and walked around the circle, glass crunching under my boots. "Listen, people. She was deceived, just like my father was deceived. And yes, Alexander was nearly mad by the end of it, and the Tombs were tricked into thinking that this man Crane could save the Patron from his inevitable death." I stopped on my heel and turned to Angela. "And he couldn't."

  It took a second for that to settle into the minds of the Councilors. Plumer got it first.

  "The Patron is dead," he whispered.

  Another round of hubbub, Angela shaking her head at me all the while. I went to her.

  "No more time for politics, Angela. See what Crane has done to you. Done to the city. This Council is still yours, as it always was." I handed her the shotgun. "Take them, and avenge yourself on Ezekiel Crane."

  She grimaced at me, at the weapon in her hand. A coldness came over her face. I stepped away, taking Wilson with me. We returned to the Burn dais and settled in for the show.

  "Enough!" she yelled. There was still some conversation, most of it among the industrialists. Angela scurried across the room and put the butt of the gun heavily into the dais of the Trotter-Heights. It resounded like a gong. "Enough!"

  They stopped, and they looked at her. It was all she needed.

  "The succession will continue. Tomorrow, if there's still a city. Tomorrow, if we're still alive to surrender the seat. The Patron clung to life, but mostly he clung to the Council. Let's not throw him off without a fight. Ezekiel Crane has done my family a great harm. I would harm him back."

  "It was you called the curfew, Tomb. It was you who suggested we hide the attacks and separate a portion of the Badge to suppress it. It's you they report to, Lady Tomb." The speaker was the Councilor for one of the older industrialist families. He saw a Founder falling, and he loved it. Wanted to stand where she fell. "Tell us why we don't throw you out of the Chamber this very second, and take our own direction."

  "Your own direction? Nathan, you couldn't take your own piss. We have talked enough. Jacob is right. The time has come to act against this threat."

  "Your honor, with all due respect…" Nathan protested, with enunciation as sharp as the shattered glass on the floor.

  "With due respect," Angela interrupted, "you can throw me out tomorrow, if you can get your nerve up by then. Councilor Burn," she said, turning to me. "You have the most experience with this man, excluding the ruse he has been playing on my family's hospitality. What can you tell us of him? What are his goals, his intentions?"

  I sat up from where I had been lounging in my Council seat. Honestly, I had felt like my part in this conversation was done. I was hoping that Angela would just take the authority and run with it, and let me scuttle back into the shadows. Oh well.

  "He has revenge on his mind. Best we've been able to piece together, he's the last remnant of one of the Founding Families, come back to knock Veridon on its ass."

  "Which family?" Plumer asked. "One of the lines that fell out of favor, probably. Let's see, who among us died out? Lever? Mastingway? The Hoat?"

  "Maker," I said. They met me with blank stares.

  "That must be a stage name, or something," Nathan said. "My family's records of the lineages of Veridon are quite extensive, as you all know. The name means nothing to me."

  "They won't be in your books. Nor will they be mentioned in the histories of the city, or on the plagues of Memory. They have been removed. Utterly."

  "But how is that…" Nathan began, then understood. "A Rite of Purge."

  "Correct. Maker seems to have been allied with the Artificers Guild. Not sure what their role was in the trials, if they were accused or merely worked to defend the Guild. Either way, it seems that the result was pretty severe."

  "A Rite of Purge is very thorough, Jacob," Angela said. "If one was leveled at these Makers, there wouldn't be any left."

  "Or any survivors would have to live in such isolation that the subsequent centuries would have driven th
em mad," I answered. They settled back in their chairs, thought about what they'd seen in the past few months. They were beginning to see it.

  "But what is his goal?" Angela said. "Surely there's more to it than this?"

  "He has shut the city down and apparently murdered two of the most prominent members of this Council," Nathan said nervously. "I hardly think that's insignificant."

  "He made it clear to us that he intended to strike down the heart of Veridon. I don't think he wants to level the city, or kill massive numbers of the population. But he wants to change the city forever." I spread my hands. "Whether that means upsetting the balance of power, or making the Council that purged his family irrelevant to the future of the city, I don't know."

  "Make us irrelevant?" Plumer squawked, much like the crows outside. "How could he do such a thing?"

  "He could start by killing all of us," Angela said. That settled the room down some. "So, what do you think, Jacob?"

  "I think there's more going on in this room than most of you are admitting. Tomb and Burn have suffered losses," I looked around the room, my eyes only briefly pausing on Veronica Bright. "Have any other families been struck?"

  There was nervous shuffling of papers, proud Councilors unwilling to make eye contact. Finally Plumer sighed and stood.

  "We have lost three sons. The next three in succession." This fat man had no sons of his own, I remembered. It was his brother who was mourning. "But not today. This happened two weeks ago. We didn't think it had anything to do with the attacks. It seemed to be the work of a human agent." He glanced up at me. "They were shot, while on cruise on the Reine."

  "Hardly seems Crane's style. But perhaps it's relevant. Wilson and I saw a strange woman near Crane's house. She wore an iron mask, perhaps a reference to the Purge Mask. Maybe she is somehow involved in these attacks."

  "You well know that we lost many, Mr. Burn," Veronica spoke up. "Nearly all. There are younger children left, those who were eating in a different room. But for practical purposes, I am the last Bright who can hold this seat."

  "I did not wish to force your hand, Lady Bright," I said, nodding to her. "Anyone else?"

  They all had stories. There had been assassinations, suspicious accidents and outright murders going back three months. They all seemed aimed at weakening each family's grip on power in the Council. Suddenly my father's madness didn't look so bad. The Families had not shared this information because the attacks seemed politically motivated. And there had been counterstrikes, though no one would admit to it. Heirs had been lost, and assassins had been hired to retaliate. One reason that the Badge had been assigned to guard each Family's estate was that everyone expected their rivals to use the curfew as cover for their final strike. And maybe that was happening, right now. More than one Councilor called for servants to hurry messages out into the city. Perhaps assassinations were being called off, or at least delayed. Hopefully we could stop killing each other, at least for a day.

  "It seems to me," Angela said quietly, after people had stopped talking, "that we have been played for a fool. Crane, or Maker, or whatever his name is… Ezekiel has set us against each other. It doesn't take much to put us at each other's throats, does it?"

  "Apparently not," I said. "And you were worried about letting me into your august company. Hardly seems worth discussing, to add another murderer to your ranks."

  "Hardly necessary, Mr. Burn," Nathan said. "But it doesn't matter. We have seen through Crane's scheme, and stand united. He tried to get us to kill each other. Instead he has driven us together. Fortunate that you escaped his clutches, Councilor."

  It took me a second to realize he meant me. I chuckled at the title. Uncomfortably.

  "I would hardly say I escaped him, sir," I said. "Time and again he had me, and time and again he let me go. I think he was hoping to implicate me in the Patron's death. Nearly succeeded, too. At the end we were able to disrupt his control of the cog-dead just long enough to slip free. Near thing."

  Wilson came around the edge of my chair and cleared his throat. Being good aristocrats, and mistaking the anansi for my manservant, the other Councilors ignored him.

  "It hardly matters now how you did it, young Burn. But I suppose that once this is all over we'll need to hunt the scoundrel down and give him a good thrashing." Nathan removed his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of a cloth that hung from his belt, apparently for precisely that purpose. "I suppose you'll want to lead that hunt, eh?"

  "Jacob," Wilson said. Before I could turn to him, Plumer stepped forward.

  "Oh, I would think the Badge should handle that. Though I suppose a formal hunting party, sort of a parade or something. I suppose we could approve that. Do you think, Nathan?"

  "Jacob," Wilson hissed in my ear.

  "In fact, I think we should make a day of it…" Nathan began.

  "For gods' sake, Jacob!" Wilson grabbed me by the elbow and turned me around. There were gasps, at least one from me. Wilson was strong. "What if we didn't disrupt his control, as you said? We never did understand how that worked."

  "We don't understand most of what he did, Wilson. Why?"

  "What if he let us go? What if he held them at bay, just long enough to make it look good when we did get out? Enough to make our escape feel real."

  "Why in hell would be do that?" I asked.

  "So we could come here. So we could reveal his plan to the Council. So we could foil his little scheme."

  "Well. That would be terribly clever of him, I must admit. That's exactly what he's accomplished. Look," I said, waving an arm around the Chamber. "Council's in session, no cog-dead ravaging through the hall, and we're not killing each other. Just as he planned."

  "Jacob," he said. "The crows. They let us through."

  "Maybe he… maybe he doesn't have as much control of those things as we thought?" Wilson just stared at me. "Maybe he didn't expect them to believe me, thought they would throw me out and go at each others' throats the second my ass hit the pavement. Maybe…"

  I had nothing else. He was right. It didn't make sense.

  "What is your man implying?" Plumer asked.

  "I'm not his man," Wilson growled. "And I'm implying that we're still being played. We're holed up in here, and the Badge is patrolling your estates. The rest of the city is empty of authority. He could be anywhere, doing anything."

  "Well," Nathan said, "that may be. But it sounds to me like we've got the important stuff covered."

  "I'll be sure to relay your sympathies to the rest of the citizenry of Veridon," I spat. "He could be butchering the population and turning them into an army of the cog-dead."

  The Council paled, except for Angela. She was pretty pale to begin with. And Veronica. She just sat there, thinking.

  "What did Crane say to you?" she asked. "Specifically. You said before, but I need to hear it again."

  "He said that he meant to strike at the heart of Veridon. To level the city, or something."

  "The heart. Gentlemen, and Lady" — Veronica stood — "we are not the heart of Veridon. If you'll excuse me, I have a service to attend." And she exited.

  "Never knew the Brights to be the religious type," Nathan said. "But, you know, in the face of fear. It's the natural reaction, I suppose."

  "The Church," I said, and addressed myself to Angela. "What does the Church know of the attacks?"

  "Nothing," she said. "We hid them from everyone. None of them affected the Church directly."

  "None of the attacks that you know about," I countered. "If we can keep incidents hidden from them, surely they can do the same to us."

  "Perhaps. But they're aware of the curfew. We sent a messenger, alerting them of the procedure and explaining its purpose."

  "You heard back?" I asked.

  "No, but we took their silence as tacit approval. They're rarely verbose, especially to the Council."

  "I've heard enough." I stood and crossed to Angela's dais. Holding out my hands, I said, "Ma'am, I'm going to ne
ed my iron back."

  She looked at me crossly, but handed the shotgun over. We left the chamber without further comment.

  "Excitable lad, isn't he?" Nathan said as I left. "The Council will be an interesting place, with him voting."

  "Perhaps," Plumer said. "As long as he remembers to vote, and not just rush off…"

  I was most of the way to the door before I heard a mechanical clattering behind me. Angela was on my heels, and making good speed in the formal engine. She rumbled past me and turned to block my path.

  "Jacob!" she yelled. "Don't go charging into anything just yet. You'll need help."

  "I can't imagine what you're going to offer me, but I suspect I'm better off on my own. Thanks, though." I tried to push past her.

  "Nonsense. You're very stubborn, but you're also very much just one guy with a shotgun. You think he's doing something at the Algorithm?"

  "It makes sense, doesn't it? That cog, the Wrights even call it the heart. Or maybe he's after Camilla. It doesn't matter, though, does it? It was the Algorithm that got the Council to ban the Artificers. It was the Algorithm that replaced the Guild as the driving force of technology in Veridon." I snapped my fingers and pointed to Wilson. "In the Manor Tomb, when we were rushing upstairs. All the technology had turned into plants and stuff. Imagine what would happen if he did something like that in the Church."

  "We'd all be worshiping trees, I get it. But you can't think you'll be able to stop him on your own. I've sent for the Badge officers who are protecting the Manor. If what you've said is true, there's nothing there for them to guard, anyway." She paused, then drew nearer. "Is it true? Is the Patron dead?"

  "He looked awfully sick," I said, measuring my words. "And you left him in the care of a man who intended to kill him, and who had access to technology we don't even begin to understand. I can't imagine he survived."

  "Actually," Wilson said, imposing himself on the conversation. "Crane said that he couldn't kill him. Just that what the Patron was becoming couldn't be called living, after a certain point."

  "I'm not sure that's any better," Angela whispered.