The Song Rising

  They had to be alive. They had to be.

  Jaxon leaned towards me and touched the coil of black at the front of my hair. It was all I had left of the dye he had given me to disguise myself when I had returned from the colony.

  ‘A memento, darling?’

  ‘A reminder.’ I pulled my head back. ‘That I once let you control me.’

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, you flatter me.’

  A soft knock came, and a line of personnel entered, carrying in the Grand Overseer’s breakfast. Ever the epicure. French toast with berry compote; teacakes and whipped butter; then a silver tureen of cream, a pot of coffee, a dish of curried hard-boiled eggs and fresh, thick-cut bread. Jaxon waved the personnel away.

  ‘Every revolution begins with breakfast,’ I quoted as they left. ‘Is this your revolution, Jaxon?’

  ‘I was under the impression it was yours. A failed revolution,’ he said, ‘but you tried.’

  ‘I expected to see more of you. You were full of fighting talk when I saw you in the Archon.’

  ‘I came to the conclusion that there was little point in starting a war-game with you. I knew the syndicate would tear you to pieces of its own accord, if Vance didn’t destroy you first.’ He assessed me with those pale-blue eyes. ‘Did you really think you could oust Scion with nothing more than a band of criminals, in their own heartland? This is real life, darling, not a pipe-dream.’ He poured cream into a cup. ‘Eat. Let me tell you a story.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Jax, I don’t have long left on this earth. I really don’t want to spend my last days hearing about you.’

  ‘Would you rather lie about in a cell, lamenting your doomed love for Arcturus Mesarthim?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Paige, Paige. I know you. Nashira told me all about your embrace,’ he said. Heat crept up my nape. ‘You may not care to admit it, but your heart is as soft as your façade is ruthless.’

  ‘Let’s not make rash judgements, Jaxon. You of all people know how hard my heart is.’

  ‘True. I imagine he’s been useful to you. I would probably choose a cold-blooded Rephaite myself, had I the time or inclination to pursue a star-crossed love affair.’ He added coffee to the cream. ‘Now, let us begin. The tale of a humble young man, stolen from the streets, who you no doubt heard many whispers of when you were in the colony.’

  I didn’t argue any more.

  ‘When I was not much younger than you, I began writing the pamphlet that would one day change my life. On the Merits of Unnaturalness, the first document to carefully divide the orders of clairvoyance and rank their superiority. I hope you haven’t been insulting me by thinking that the Rephaim dictated it,’ he added. ‘The work, the research, the hours of pondering and agonising, the genius, are mine. It was how they discovered me.’

  The record player switched to a soprano rendition of ‘Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes’.

  ‘It soon attracted the attention of the Rephaim, most likely because so much of it was correct. I was arrested for the creation and distribution of seditious literature. After a brief detainment in the Tower, I was transported to Sheol I, where I became a pink-jacket almost immediately. My number was 7. I suppose the Ranthen still call me by it.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘They call you the arch-traitor.’

  He clicked his tongue. ‘I never thought Rephaim were capable of such histrionics.’

  I thought of the scars I had felt on Warden, the ones that still burned him, and I loathed the man before me all the more.

  ‘Show me,’ I said. ‘Show me your brand.’

  His eyebrows lifted. ‘Why?’

  ‘So I know this whole sorry affair isn’t just another one of Hildred Vance’s mind games.’

  ‘Oh, even Vance couldn’t concoct something so wonderful and coincidental. Still, you’re right to demand proof.’

  Jaxon Hall never passed up a chance to grandstand. With a slight smile, he sat forward, removed his waistcoat, and opened his shirt, giving me a glimpse of a pallid chest. He rolled his shoulders free of it and turned his back towards me.

  And there it was. The rawness had long since disappeared, but the numbers on the back of his shoulder were all too legible. XVIII-39-7.

  ‘Are you satisfied?’

  I forced myself to nod. I had never really doubted it, but the brand was the final, irrefutable evidence.

  ‘The discomforts of the colony were tolerable, in exchange for the fruits of knowledge.’ He set about buttoning his shirt. ‘Nashira, who took me under her wing, confirmed many of my observations about the Seven Orders. She taught me more. About Rephaite gifts. About my gift. My twenty-eight-year-old self fell wildly in love with this creature’s mind; her deep understanding of the æther, and her hunger to understand it entirely. I confess to being easily seduced by knowledge.’

  ‘You make a lovely couple.’

  He smirked. ‘In mind only. I was promoted to red-jacket without ever having to lift a finger against the Emim,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘A week later, I became the colony’s internal Overseer. Life was altogether rather pleasant.’

  ‘So you betrayed the Ranthen to make sure it stayed that way.’

  ‘I betrayed the Ranthen in order to survive,’ he said, with the slightest sneer. ‘I soon heard whispers of revolt in the colony. I had two options: help Arcturus Mesarthim or betray his plans to the blood-sovereign. The only one of those two that guaranteed my survival was the latter.’ He returned his cup to its saucer. ‘Naïveté is a deficiency in immortals, and Arcturus was abysmally naïve about human nature.’

  ‘He wasn’t by the time I got there.’

  ‘Yet you charmed him into trusting you. I repeat: naïve. He must have been terribly disappointed when he discovered who you were. The heir,’ he said, ‘of his nemesis.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Jax. A nemesis is an equal.’

  ‘You must think very highly of him. It seems my warning about his true nature fell upon stubbornly deaf ears.’ He pressed his fingertips together. ‘I reported my findings. You know what happened next. A little . . . lesson was taught.’ His tongue caressed the word. ‘The Ranthen traitors were left alone for days with the spirit of the Ripper.’

  I must have misheard him.

  ‘The Ripper,’ I repeated.

  ‘Delectable, I know. One of the poltergeists Nashira keeps, the same one you faced at the scrimmage, is the very poltergeist we voyants have hunted for a century.’ He looked back at the window, so the light fell on his face. ‘I am almost tempted to write and tell Didion, but no. Far more amusing for him to search in vain for the rest of his days.’

  No wonder Warden and the Ranthen hadn’t trusted me. No wonder if they still didn’t.

  ‘You monster,’ was all I could say.

  He held up a finger. ‘Survivor. Traitor. Marionette, yes. But not monster. This is what humans are, Paige. Only the Sargas can regulate our insanity.’ His hand returned to the arm of his chair. ‘Do you remember what Nashira said about me the arm of his chair in November – how long it had been since she had last seen me?’

  I thought back. ‘She said . . . that you had been estranged from her for twenty years.’ I served myself a coffee of my own. Might as well die with caffeine in my veins. ‘Trouble in paradise?’

  ‘She wanted me to be her Grand Overseer, given my talent for spotting powerful voyants. Someone to guide the red-jackets. I was allowed to leave the penal colony, but as a Scion employee. I was to make a regular payment of at least one higher-order clairvoyant every two months.’

  ‘A regular payment.’ I paused. ‘The grey market.’

  ‘Very good. I was its architect.’

  ‘The Rag and Bone Man—’

  ‘—is an associate,’ he said calmly. ‘I let Nashira believe I would obey her. Then, one night, I escaped. Shed my old form. A skilled backstreet surgeon created this face.’ He pressed a finger to one cheek. ‘I needed wealth t
o achieve my dream of taking I-4. I kept in touch with the Sargas through calls to the Residence of Balliol, promising to continue my work, but refused to meet again in person.’

  ‘How did you get your hands on I-4?’

  ‘I reported its mime-queen and her mollisher, who were detained within a day. Then I announced myself to the Unnatural Assembly,’ he said. ‘I found a place to live in Seven Dials. Seven for my number. Seven for my name. I employed the Rag and Bone Man to assist me with my payments. He extended our network somewhat, as you learned in the weeks preceding the scrimmage.’

  ‘Then why build the Seals?’ I asked. ‘You had your grey market. Were you planning to send us all to Sheol for extra money?’

  ‘Every mime-lord needs a gang.’

  ‘You’re no ordinary mime-lord.’

  He fell silent, gazing out of the window, the remnant of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t difficult to piece it together.

  ‘You did plan to send us there. Some of us, at least. You arranged my arrest.’ I could hardly get the words out. ‘You kept Nick busy so he couldn’t take me home, so I’d have to get the train on my own. You arranged for there to be a spot check on that line. When I got away, you told me to stay at my father’s apartment. Then you tipped them off.’

  ‘Imaginative, Paige, but incorrect. Why would I want you taken? Remember’ – he lit a cigar – ‘it was I who rescued you.’

  He was still looking away. My hand moved to the table and delicately liberated a piece of paper from the stack.

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘Hector,’ Jaxon said. My fingers worked quickly, rolling the page up small. ‘He met you on the platform, if you recall – to alert Scion when you stepped on to the train. I understand that it was out of spite towards me. Our Underlord was asking for more than his fair share of profits from the grey market, you see, and I denied his request. So he took my prized mollisher and pocketed the money he received from Scion for you. The Rag and Bone Man later, at my behest, arranged for him to be slain by the Abbess. I was originally going to have him removed by cleaner means – a nice gunshot, perhaps – but for his greed, I ensured his death was . . . rather bloodier.’

  Hector.

  All that blood in his parlour, the decapitated bodies – all because Jaxon had wanted vengeance for the theft of his most cherished possession.

  Me.

  ‘And that cleared the way for you to be Underlord,’ I said.

  He inclined his head.

  ‘At the time of your arrest, I was no longer working for the Sargas; they had finally grown vexed with my refusal to play the game by their rules. They cut off my considerable salary, which hurt – I had grown used to finery, and to power. And yet, I did not betray you. I saved your life. I put myself in considerable danger to do so. It was when you betrayed me at the scrimmage – only then that I decided to return to my makers. Not only to continue my lifestyle, before you accuse me of avarice, but to continue my education.’ Smoke pirouetted from between his lips. ‘We can learn from the Rephaim.’

  He finally looked back at me. The roll of paper was already up my sleeve.

  I had no guarantee that anything he said was the truth, but his story held together.

  He might have saved my life, but that didn’t mean he cared about me. He cared about his own pride. He knew he had been the envy of other mime-lords and mime-queens for having a mollisher of my rarity. I had been worth money, money Hector had taken.

  ‘If all I’ll learn from them is how to be like you,’ I said, ‘forget it.’

  ‘It is too late, Paige. You are already like me,’ he said, ‘and dyeing your hair will never change that.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Grand Overseer, I’d like to go back to my cell,’ I said tightly. ‘I find myself missing the quiet.’ I had no time to waste on his games.

  As I stood, he snapped upright and hooked a finger under my chin, freezing me. He coaxed me close, so I could smell the cigars and sweetness on him.

  ‘In that case, I will come to my reason for bringing you here. There was a reason, beyond stories,’ he said very softly. ‘Nashira is about to present you with your execution warrant.’

  I had expected it, but I still turned numb.

  ‘I suppose this is goodbye, then,’ I said. The slightest quake crept into my voice, in spite of myself.

  ‘Not necessarily. There is a chance that I can secure a stay of execution.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You could be very useful to the Sargas, Paige. I have told them that you might be persuaded to join this side of the conflict, under my instruction. I will be Grand Overseer in Sheol II, personally selecting voyants for the new colony.’ He didn’t break his hold on my face. ‘Come with me to Paris. I will offer myself as your mentor. You can become my protégée and retrain as a red-jacket.’

  Another Sheol. A return to hell.

  ‘And Nashira would agree to this,’ I said.

  ‘She doesn’t want to kill you. Not until your spirit has . . . matured a little more.’ His grip tightened. ‘Think of it, Paige. Mime-lord and mollisher, together again. There is so much more I can teach you about clairvoyance, so much for us to learn together. And think of the alternative. Your gift – your beautiful, singular gift – in Nashira’s clutches.’

  ‘She’ll have it in the end,’ I said. ‘Dead or alive, I’ll be used as a weapon. Better that I face it now.’

  ‘You must stop being so noble, Paige. It will not save you.’ I couldn’t escape his eyes. ‘You can convince yourself that you are nothing like me. Tell yourself that you are the black to my white, the queen that stood on the right side of the board. But one day, you will be faced with a choice, as we all are. One day you will have to choose between your own desires, your own darkest impulses, and what you know to be right . . . and it will harden you. You will understand that all of us are devils in the skins of men. You will become the monster that lives inside us all.’

  I started away from him. This wasn’t the first time that his words had sounded like a prediction.

  The Devil.

  Had it been me all along?

  Was it the devil in myself – the devil deep beneath my skin – that I was meant to resist?

  On the surface I was composed, but my insides were a jigsaw of conflicting thoughts. Like a moth, I was drawn to the light that he offered. I was afraid of the humiliation and pain that Nashira would put me through. I was afraid of losing myself to that pain, of losing my mind to it.

  I could say yes, with a view to escape. I had played Jaxon’s games for four years; I could play for a while longer. But Nashira would have considered this. She would have devised some way to keep me under control.

  And I knew Jaxon too well.

  ‘I find it hard to believe that Nashira agreed to this without the promise of something in return,’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘Tell me where the Mime Order is.’

  This time, I would listen to the cards. If I agreed, I would be making a deal with that devil inside.

  ‘Not a chance in hell,’ I said. ‘Not if you offered me anything in the world.’

  ‘You disappoint me.’

  ‘The feeling’s mutual. You once said, in On the Merits, that we had to fight fire with fire to survive,’ I said. ‘Did you lose your nerve, Obscure Writer?’

  His face closed, and he released me. ‘All I lost was my naïveté. I have always had the best interests of our kind at heart.’

  ‘How is it in our interest to work for the Rephaim?’

  ‘They need us. We need them. You were going to start a fruitless war with them – and war will not improve conditions for clairvoyants, Paige. What we need now is a time of stability and co-operation.’

  ‘Have you said as much to your employers?’

  ‘The Republic of Scion is not at war.’

  ‘I saw the depot, the factories,’ I said. ‘The Second Inquisitorial Division is preparing for war, and I won’t flatter myself by thinking it was all for me. Wh
o are they invading?’

  For some time, he gazed out at the sparkling Thames.

  ‘Scion has long had a tenuous understanding with the free world,’ he said. ‘Scion tolerates them, and in return, they tolerate Scion, in spite of occasional incursions.’ He paused. ‘You may have noticed ambassadors from two European free-world countries in the Archon. Weaver has invited them here to demonstrate to them the advantages of Senshield, to persuade them that it will identify unnaturals in their countries with infallible accuracy, in the hope that those countries will peacefully convert to Scion. If they do not . . . well. Let us say that my hopes for peace may be scotched in the short term.’

  As I realised what he was implying, the muscles in my abdomen clenched.

  Someone was knocking at the door. Jaxon turned back to me.

  ‘Our time is up. Nashira will make you a final offer,’ he said. ‘If you wish to live, take it. Think of yourself.’

  Another knock. ‘Grand Overseer,’ a voice called.

  Suddenly I was full of pity, of sorrow, of grief for the man he might have been. I went to him and touched his face with one finger, imagining what it had been like once, before the knife had given it a new shape.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said, ‘to see the White Binder reduced to nothing but a boundling, a pawn on someone else’s board . . . I really am disappointed.’

  ‘Oh, you may think me the pawn on this particular board, but I am playing on many others. And mark my words, we are nowhere close to endgame.’ The sun gilded his eyes. ‘Even so, it seems that, in my brief time as a pawn, I have taught you one very valuable lesson, O my lovely. Humans will always disappoint.’

  22

  Ultimatum

  Jaxon had confirmed it. Scion was ready to expand its empire again, just as we’d thought.

  The Vigile outside my cell had mentioned Spaniards.

  Spain was their target. Spain, and possibly Portugal, if there were ambassadors from two countries here.

  I didn’t know much about the free world, but I knew Scion had promoted the virtues of its system globally in the hope that other territories would join the fold of their own free will. It had worked on Sweden. Join us, they would say, and rid your country of the plague of unnaturalness. Join us, and you can keep your people safe. Some countries, like Ireland, had been taken forcibly – but it would be easier, and cleaner, if they could avoid costly invasions altogether.