The Song Rising

  ‘There’s a supervisor’s post on the other end of the facility,’ said Wynn. ‘That should be secure.’ She brushed past us. ‘I’m going to see who else is here.’

  Still plastered in filth, she hurried up the stairs, holding up her drenched skirts with one hand. For her sake, I hoped Vern and Róisín – her family – had made it down here. Ivy hesitated before following her, and Jos, who tended to go wherever she went, stumbled after them.

  ‘Right,’ I said to those who remained. ‘Before we do anything, I suggest we wash.’

  The suggestion was met with sounds of approval. If I had to face the music, I might as well do it clean.

  Stained curtains divided the bathroom into eight shower cubicles, each of which contained an equally stained towel. I would have recoiled on any other day, but I was already coated in all manner of dirt, so I steeled myself and undressed. As promised, the showers just about functioned. I excavated a bar of soap, which looked about a century old, and scrubbed myself raw, scouring under my nails and soaking my hair until the water I wrung from it was clear. I patted myself dry with the corner of a towel and pulled on some spare clothes from Eliza’s backpack.

  There was a water-spotted mirror by the door. With no greasepaint to hand to mask the shadows under my eyes, I would have to appear before my subjects with a naked face. I turned away from the reflection.

  After hours of limbo, it was time to see the syndicate.

  We took the stairs to the upper deck. Distorted sounds echoed through the tunnel. Lanterns had been set on the floor, showing me that at least eighty voyants had found their way into the facility so far – more than I had expected.

  The relief curdled when I saw what was happening. Wynn was shielding Ivy, who looked lifeless, while Vern was locked in a brutal fight with a sensor, bloody at the mouth.

  ‘Stop it,’ Róisín was screaming. ‘Leave him alone!’

  They were surrounded. I flung pressure through the æther, scattering the knot of attackers. The sensor let Vern go and clapped a hand to her bleeding nose.

  When they found the source of the disturbance, hatred filled their faces. I had almost allowed myself to believe that the discovery of this refuge would soften their fury, but I could see now that I had underestimated it.

  Nick placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Paige,’ he said, ‘let’s go to the supervisor’s post.’

  I brushed him off and crouched beside the bunk. Ivy was conscious, just, her fingers pressed into Wynn’s shoulder. Her other hand was against her cheek, but I could see the blood flowing from beneath it, leaving runnels down her neck. When I guided it away, I drew in a breath. A rough ‘T’ had been sliced into her face. Jos was hiding behind her, shaking.

  ‘Eliza,’ I said, too quietly for the crowd to hear, ‘get them to the medical wing. Bar the door.’

  I rose and brazened out my subjects. Under those bloodthirsty stares, I wanted nothing more than to leave – but if I walked away now, if I showed them that I was afraid, I would lose all my power.

  ‘Who,’ I said, keeping my voice soft, ‘is responsible for this?’

  Wynn cradled Ivy closer and wrapped her other arm around Róisín. Eliza coaxed them out.

  ‘I’ll ask once more. Who cut Ivy?’

  ‘She’s a traitor,’ a voice said from the back. ‘Let everyone remember it. Let her remember it.’

  ‘We don’t want her down here. Let the soldiers take her.’ The sensor spat at Vern and wiped angrily at her nose. ‘Whose side are you on, Underqueen? First you don’t punish the Jacobite when she was helping sell us on the grey market – then you bring the army down on us – and it turns out you’ve helped them change Senshield. You’re worse than Hector ever was, and that’s saying something!’ Shouts of agreement filled the tunnel. ‘Every sensor who’s detained from now on – that’s on you, Mahoney. Their blood is all over your dirty Irish hands.’

  ‘Traitor,’ someone bellowed.

  ‘Traitor!’

  ‘You showed them how to sense us,’ a whisperer shouted. ‘It’s all right for you, dreamwalker! You’re seventh-order! So much higher than the rest of us, aren’t you?’

  ‘You’re helping Scion!’

  ‘Vile augur-lover!’

  More of them piled in, delighting in my downfall. Somebody hurled a shard of rubble, catching my cheek. I restrained my spirit from flying at the perpetrator. I had to rise above. To be strong. Nick shouted at them to get back, but nobody was listening. They screamed their wrath straight into my ears, so close that my face was freckled with spit, but I didn’t flinch. Tyrant. Murderer. Warmonger. Brogue. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Their voices became Jaxon’s voice; their many-headed rage, his vengeance. I would be damned if I took one step away, if I gave an inch. The syndicate had never bowed to cowardice.

  ‘Nick,’ I said, ‘take Jos back to the lower deck.’

  ‘If you think I’m leaving you—’

  ‘Do it.’ Before he could argue, I raised my voice to the mob: ‘I don’t have time for this. The only traitors here are those who threaten the peace. If you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare this facility for the rest of the Mime Order. And thanks to this incident, it seems I’ll need to cordon off a holding cell. The next person to spill blood in here will spend a month in it.’

  I strode straight through the sea of bodies. When the first hand grabbed my arm, I threw out my spirit.

  Nobody tried to touch me again.

  I marched between the bunks with my torch, through multiple sleeping areas, past another empty medical room and signs reading KITCHEN and CANTEEN and STORAGE. When I reached the supervisor’s post, I crashed through its door and closed it behind me. Inside was a dead transmission screen, a desk without a chair, and a bunk that folded down from the wall. I lowered the bunk and sank on to it, aching from the four-mile trek.

  In the tunnel, the shouting continued for a while before dying down. My nails bit into the skin of my palms.

  I couldn’t be taken by surprise like that again. Law and order would be critical down here. I needed to rally my commanders and work out what to do next, but my confidence was running between my fingers. In a confined, pitch-black space, where nobody could blow off steam, a flicker of resentment could ignite a riot.

  They were right to resent me. I had brought down the might of the Archon on our heads. These voyants had lived without many things in their lives, but by trying to fight Scion head-on, as no syndicate leader had before, I had taken away the one thing that had sustained them. I had taken away the streets.

  My cheek was throbbing where the rubble had struck me. I had to think, and quickly. We had somewhere to hide, but we couldn’t last down here for ever.

  The only way to free the Mime Order was for a group of us to get back out there and use every available resource to find Senshield’s core and destroy it. The soldiers would still be there if we succeeded, but if they had no way to detect us, we could risk a return to the surface.

  Where was it? I let my backpack slip on to the floor and wrenched it open, rifling through it for my map of London. Maybe there was a pattern in the scanners’ locations, or some abandoned place where they might be keeping the core – something, anything . . .

  I stopped when I saw it. An envelope, nestled among my clothes, addressed to me. Danica’s handwriting.

  Inside it was a note, hastily written.

  Paige, as you’ll know by now, I’ve left. I applied for a transfer to Scion Athens after the scrimmage, and they approved it two days ago. I’m not the revolutionary, gung-ho, against-the-government type, and of you and Jaxon, you seemed like the easier person to run away from.

  I would, however, like to leave you with a parting gift. It relates to Senshield.

  She had never meant to stay with me, but it was clear that she hadn’t betrayed me. I read on.

  You may have noticed, over our years of cohabitation, that I don’t like being outsmarted. Vance fooled you through me, which, in my self-centred mind, means that Vance
bested me personally, and that I am partly responsible for the deaths of the people on your assignment. Apparently I have a conscience.

  I traced the blur where the side of her hand had smudged the letters. She must have been deeply humiliated to admit to any of this.

  So I’ve spent my last hours in London doing better investigation. I discovered something very interesting, and this time, it’s not false information. I made sure.

  A while ago, I mentioned Scion’s plans for a portable scanner. At the time, I was under the impression that they were still in the early stages of design. I was wrong about that, too. As you read this, handheld scanners are being manufactured for military use in a factory in Manchester, which is owned and controlled by a government department called SciPLO. These scanners will be linked to the core, whatever or wherever it is. My feeling is that you’ll want to pay a visit to Manchester, in the absence of better leads.

  I could feel sweat forming on my upper lip. Handheld scanners, and sooner than we had thought. I imagined an army, each soldier carrying one. This couldn’t be happening.

  I appreciate that you need somewhere to start in a citadel that’s not familiar to you, so here’s one more breadcrumb. SciPLO’s records indicate that one of their workhands, Jonathan Cassidy, is wanted for theft. It might be a long shot, but if you can find him, he may be willing to give you more information about the manufacturing process.

  I hope this makes up for my error. I’d say goodbye, but unfortunately for both of us, we will meet again.

  I scrunched the note into my hand.

  Portable scanners. A death sentence.

  The door opened. I snatched up the knife in my boot, expecting to see a murderous voyant.

  ‘Warden,’ I said, lowering it.

  He came to sit beside me, and I knew he had followed the cord to my side. He lifted a hand to my face, turning it gently. His thumb touched my cheek and came away bloody.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘The inevitable.’ I pressed my fingers over the cut. ‘This place is a pressure cooker. They won’t last a month down here without killing each other. Or me.’

  ‘You were right to call for an evacuation,’ he said, unruffled as ever. ‘So long as you find a way to replenish your supplies, the Beneath may serve you better than your original network of buildings. Fortunate that you had mercy on Ivy, or the Mime Order would have no haven. Your compassion has repaid you.’

  ‘For the time being.’ I unfolded Danica’s letter and handed it to him. ‘We won’t be returning to the surface for a while.’

  He read it, expressionless.

  ‘If portable scanners haven’t already been issued to the soldiers, they will be soon.’ I took back the paper, pocketed it. ‘This is on me, all of it. If we’d gone back to our lives after we got out of the colony, none of this would be happening. Everyone would have just continued with mime-crime . . .’

  My jaw and throat were aching. Warden shifted off the bunk and crouched in front of me.

  ‘Never allow yourself to believe you should be silent.’ His voice rumbled from deep in his chest. ‘If you had been silent in the colony, then both of us might still be there. Even if you had never become Underqueen, Senshield was on the horizon. The scanners might not have come so soon, but they would have come. There is no choice but to fight.’

  A tear escaped. I blotted it with my sleeve. ‘I should never have risked going to that warehouse. I helped make Senshield stronger.’

  ‘You did. It is done,’ he said. I lowered my head. ‘This was the right thing to do, Paige,’ he said again. ‘You will be safe here. Alsafi will reconnect the power as soon as he is able.’

  Alsafi. Slowly, I looked up.

  ‘If I were to put together a team,’ I said, ‘could Alsafi get them to Manchester?’ When he didn’t answer at once, I continued: ‘It’s where the scanners are being made. It’s the next step to track down Senshield’s core. And I trust the information this time.’

  Warden seemed to consider this. ‘I am not able to contact Alsafi directly,’ he said. ‘After I requested that he restore the power, he told us to cut off further communication with him, most likely because the risk of receiving our messages has become too high. However, I believe he divulged the identities of certain people in his network to Pleione. She may be able to arrange safe passage. If she is successful, you will have to choose someone you trust as your interim.’

  ‘I didn’t mean I would go. I’d send a team. The leader of the syndicate never leaves London.’

  ‘Traditionally. You are not a traditional Underqueen.’

  ‘Warden, I can’t go. If you think they’re pissed off with me now, they’ll be murderous if I run away.’

  ‘Consider the alternative. The Mime Order blames you for this state of affairs. While you are here, their anger will remain fresh. Many will resist your orders out of resentment.’ His gloved hands cupped mine. ‘You broke from convention by turning on your mime-lord, Paige. You can do it again.’

  He might be right. The time for tradition was gone.

  ‘You’ll stay now, and help us,’ I said. ‘Won’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  I stared at him. ‘You must be joking,’ I said, when he gave no explanation of his own accord. ‘You’re not seriously abandoning us now?’

  ‘We must have Rephaite support, Paige,’ Warden said. ‘Now more than ever. Terebell has no intention of changing her plans – and after what she regards as your insubordination, it may be best that the two of you do not see each other for a time.’

  I could only imagine how enraged she must have been when she realised what Vance had done at the warehouse.

  ‘Fine.’ I pulled my hands free from his and stood. ‘I need to speak to my commanders.’

  ‘I also wish to speak to your commanders. If I may.’

  ‘You don’t need to ask permission.’

  He looked at my face for a long time. I wondered if he could understand the emotions bubbling through me: the bitterness and disappointment, the fear of what the future would bring.

  We left the supervisor’s post together and took the parallel tunnel back to the other end of the facility, avoiding the voyants in the bunks. I didn’t want to get into the habit of hiding from my subjects, but it was safer if I let their tempers simmer down.

  As we passed one of the cross-tunnels, the lights on the ceiling flickered, then glowed, and a bluebottle hum filled the facility.

  ‘Alsafi.’ I switched off my torch. ‘He’s quick.’

  ‘He knew the need was pressing.’

  ‘Is he sure Scion won’t notice?’

  ‘They abandoned this facility a century ago. It is forgotten. He will see to it that it remains so.’

  Our surroundings were a little more welcoming now. None of the bulbs grew too bright – Alsafi must be being cautious with the electricity – but they warmed the concrete and cast-iron.

  The others had claimed places on the lower deck. The vile augurs had clearly felt safe enough to emerge, for the time being: Wynn and Vern had occupied one pair of bunks, while Róisín was at the top of the next set, and Ivy at the bottom of the next. Jos was above her, fast asleep beneath two blankets, and Maria had dumped her rucksack opposite Ivy. When she saw Warden’s towering figure, Ivy pushed herself farther into her bunk.

  ‘You found bedding?’ I said.

  ‘Not much,’ Nick admitted. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ I spotted a bag on the floor. ‘Whose is that?’

  A hoarse voice came from the doorway. ‘Mine.’

  I turned to see Tom and Glym, both a little worse for wear. It was Tom who had spoken, and he was grinning, if grimy. I was so relieved to see them that I embraced them both.

  ‘Minty asked us to deliver a message.’ Glym looked grave. ‘She has decided against entering the Beneath. She would prefer to stay in Grub Street and assist us from there.’

  I wanted to protest, but Minty Wolfson was the soul of Grub Street, an
d I couldn’t imagine her anywhere else. ‘And the Pearl Queen?’

  ‘We’ve heard nothing from her.’

  Four out of six commanders, Warden, and both my mollishers. More than enough to decide on our counter play. I beckoned the others into an empty side tunnel, where someone had set up a table and chairs. Warden barred the door behind us before taking a seat.

  ‘Time for us to plan our next move,’ I said, ‘because things are about to get much worse.’

  ‘Worse,’ Maria echoed. ‘Than this.’

  I handed her Danica’s note. She read it and turned away with a groan, fisting her hands in her hair.

  ‘Portable scanners. For the soldiers,’ she said. ‘It’s a damn good thing we did move underground.’

  Tom took it from her, digested it.

  ‘I know it’s not good news,’ I said as they passed the note around, their faces turning grimmer as they read, ‘but it does give us a new lead on Senshield.’ I raised my chin. ‘I’m going to Manchester. If that’s where portable scanners are being manufactured, we might be able to find out how and where they’re being linked to Senshield, and that, in turn, could lead us to the core. It’s a chance, at any rate.’

  Eliza shook her head. ‘You want to leave? Now?’

  ‘That would be unprecedented,’ Glym said. ‘No syndicate leader has ever left the citadel. It may not be a popular move—’

  ‘I didn’t become Underqueen to be popular. Tom, Maria, will you come with me?’

  Tom beamed. ‘I’m with you, Underqueen.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Maria said.

  It was risky to take two commanders away, but I sensed their skills would be the most useful. Tom was a powerful voyant and had knowledge of the country beyond London, while Maria had experience as an insurgent, as well as the sort of relentless energy we needed for this journey.

  ‘Good. And Glym,’ I said, ‘will you be interim Underlord?’

  There was an odd silence. Glym blinked, but dipped his head. ‘You do me a great honour, Underqueen.’

  Glym was loyal and well-respected, had years of experience as a leader in the syndicate, and didn’t take any nonsense from the Assembly. ‘Your priority is to preserve life while we’re gone,’ I said. ‘Get as many voyants into this facility as you can. Get the pumps and ventilation working. Send the higher orders to retrieve food and drink for the lower. Keep the peace. Above all, make sure this place isn’t compromised.’