Lamplight

LAMPLIGHT

I had meant to find Julian, but meeting Graffias had reminded me of how little power I had in this place. In London, I had bent the streets to my will – one mention of Jaxon, and voyants sat up a bit straighter. Here I would be playing by a different set of rules.

I needed more sleep, to sharpen my judgement. Going back to Magdalen still felt like a defeat. Once the night porter had signed me back in, I trudged up the stairs to the Founders Tower.

In the parlour, I kicked off my boots. Before I slept, I would have another look around. There had to be something of interest in here.

Warden had warned me not to touch anything. Trusting my light fingers, I opened every drawer in his desk. I found three pairs of black gloves, a pen and creamy paper, matches. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A linen cabinet stood against one wall, a tall display case by another. Those looked more interesting. When I opened the display case, my sixth sense twinged. One shelf was full of exquisite drinkware: absinthe glasses, snifters, silver goblets. The others housed a collection of beautiful numa, including a crystal ball.

Now, this was a thieves’ paradise, for all the good it did me. I wasn’t a soothsayer, and I couldn’t steal or sell any of this. Still, my education in burglary reminded me to be thorough. I ran a hand around the inside of the display case, checking for hidden treasure.

My fingertips soon caught on something, tucked just out of sight. I brought it into the glow of the candles.

It was an ornate snuffbox – an antique, from the look of it. A delicate flower blossomed on its lid. Inside were two stoppered vials, each filled with something clear and iridescent.

I returned the snuffbox to its place, making sure there were no prints on it. It had been a long shot to think I would find anything useful in here.

A dull pain stabbed into my temple. I closed the curtains and lay on the daybed.

Now the fire had burned out, the Founders Tower was cold. I considered taking some bedding from the linen cabinet, but that would be hard to conceal from Warden, and I wasn’t about to die for a duvet. Instead, I huddled against the backrest.

As I started to drift off, I thought of Jaxon. No doubt he was sending voyants to watch the Lychgate, expecting my corpse to appear up there.

Danica and Nick lived double lives in Scion. Maybe they could track me down. Surely there must be a record of transported prisoners somewhere. I held the thought close and let myself sleep.

I woke to the sound of the door opening. By the light of the few candles that still burned, I saw the faint outline of Warden. When he walked towards the daybed, I feigned sleep.

After what seemed like an eternity, he turned away and went across the landing, towards the bathroom. This time, his booted footsteps were heavier, and I could tell he was sporting a limp.

He was in there for a good long while. In that time, I could feel every heartbeat. I listened hard, hearing the distant creak of pipes. When he returned to the parlour, he was naked as sin. I closed my eyes and kept up my act as he unlocked the door to the next room.

Only when his mind had quietened, some time later, did I rise.

From the way he had been moving, he hadn’t wanted to wake me. Somehow I couldn’t imagine a Reph being that considerate.

Not without reason.

I let in a sliver of light from outside. A lamp shone in the courtyard, beneath a predawn sky. In silence, I padded up the wooden stairs and pushed the door open. The hinges made the slightest creak.

As I had suspected, this adjoining room was his bedchamber. Darkly panelled, it was bookended by two bay windows, grander than the ones in the parlour. It also had its own fireplace.

Beside that cold hearth stood a four-poster bed. Not daring to breathe, I looked between its red curtains.

Warden lay on his side, hair snarled over his brow. I held my nerve. The bedding was up to his shoulders, his face tilted into the pillow.

At first, I couldn’t see anything wrong. Perhaps he just wanted to avoid me, which suited me just fine. I had nothing to say to him.

Then I spotted it. A faint glow, leaching through the bedspread.

The æther rang in warning.

He was as still as a corpse. I pushed the curtains farther apart, willing them not to make any sound. Once I was sure he was either asleep or unconscious, I lifted the bedspread. Beneath it, the sheets were soaked in molten light, like the contents of a glow bar, the same greenish yellow as his eyes. I peeled one sheet away, then another.

And there it was. A row of deep punctures on his upper arm, seeping beads of light.

I listened to the old residence, waiting. Surely the night porter had seen him come back in this state. Surely help was on its way. For the first time, I became aware of a clock, ticking on the mantelpiece.

Warden must have used another way into the residence.

The light kept oozing from his arm. It could only be their equivalent of blood. The wounds didn’t look bad enough to kill him, but they could be infected. When the Rephs found him like this, I would be the only witness.

If Arcturus Mesarthim died on this bed, I was the prime suspect.

I drew in a long breath. As far as I could tell, I had three choices. I could see what happened, finish him off, or try to save his life.

The second option was tempting. He might not have hurt me yet, but he would. Scion had sent me here in the full knowledge that I had killed before. I could make them regret that decision.

I reached for a cushion, then paused.

He could wake up and break my neck. Even if I succeeded, I would only be executed myself, or thrown to another Reph.

I had to save him, for my own sake.

Rephs looked similar to humans. I would treat him like one – clean the wounds, stem the bleeding. That would buy him time, at least.

Something told me not to touch that strange light. I went to his chest of drawers and found yet another pair of gloves. They were massive, made for hands that dwarfed mine. This was going to be clumsy.

I took off the white tunic, leaving me in my undershirt. I fetched some cloths from the linen cabinet and soaked them in hot water. By the time I set to work, Warden was starting to look grey.

It took a long time. I mopped blood even as it congealed, coaxed grit from his broken skin. At first, I thought he must have been stabbed, but the open wounds seemed too ragged. While I was near them, I sensed the nearest spirits so keenly it almost hurt.

What are you?

By sunrise, I had made a dent. As the bell rang, I used a towel to pad his arm, securing it with a tie-back. It was crude, but it was the best I could do. I lay back down on the daybed, exhausted.

Now it all rested on him.

As soon as I woke, I knew I was alone. I got straight up and rushed into the bedchamber.

I blinked. The floor had been cleaned while I slept, the linen whisked away. The bedspread was immaculate – in fact, it looked as if it had been ironed.

Warden was nowhere to be seen.

Rain trickled down the windows. The fog had thinned. I soon found the note on the desk. In that same elegant cursive, it simply read:

Tomorrow.

Some fresh clothes had been left for me, including a new undershirt. I changed into them and washed my pills down the sink, then curled up on the couch and stayed for a long while, turning the incident over and over in my head. The gramophone played in the background, its crackles mingling with the sound of the rain.

Part of me wanted to stay by the fire, rather than facing this grim, hostile place. Warden hadn’t given me any specific instructions. I could keep warm and have a good look around Magdalen.

But whatever Liss said, I couldn’t just lie down and accept this. I didn’t care if the Rephs had been here for two hundred years or a thousand – I wasn’t their soldier, and she wasn’t their lunch.

In the Porters’ Lodge, nothing seemed amiss. The night porter was reading by the light of a paraffin lamp. Seeing me, she smiled.

‘Going out?’

‘Yes.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Is the Warden here?’

‘No, he’s gone to Oriel. I doubt he’ll return until dawn.’

He was alive, then. And the night porter was none the wiser.

‘He’ll train you in good time,’ she said, misreading my face. ‘There’s no hurry.’ She made a note in her book. ‘I’m sorry, but Magdalen can’t provide you with a meal today. Do you need more numa to trade?’

‘Yes,’ I said. She handed me a dull excuse for a shew stone, which I pocketed. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re quite welcome.’ She closed the book. ‘You’re free to go. Just make sure you’re—’

‘—here before sunrise,’ I finished. ‘I know.’

I stepped on to Magdalen Walk and drew the door shut behind me. Some way ahead, a pair of red-jackets laughed, one of them holding a lantern. They wore hooded raincoats. Avoiding them, I turned into Catte Street.

In the Rookery, I swapped the stone for a bowl of porridge. It was thick and grey as wet cement, but it would muffle the hunger. I ate under a lean-to, watching the performers murmur and trade.

Now Liss had described her loss of hope, I could see it in all their faces. Their bright clothes were a harsh contrast, like graffiti on a headstone.

‘All right?’

I looked up. It was the whisperer from the first night, standing in the greasy light of the nearest lamps, her dark hair scraped into a ponytail.

‘Tilda,’ she said. ‘Can I sit?’

‘If you like,’ I said.

‘Ta.’ Tilda slid down the wall to the floor, all limbs. She looked about my age. ‘Well. Proper headwrecker, this place, isn’t it?’

‘You could say that.’

She had a roll-up between her fingers. Lilac smoke trailed from the end, thick with the sickly perfume of purple aster. Seeing me look, she said, ‘Want some regal?’

‘I’m fine. I was just wondering where you got it.’

‘One of the harlies.’ She leaned against the wall. ‘Probably a bad idea, but you try hearing the dead at all hours, muttering things you don’t understand. You’d want a distraction, too.’

‘This place isn’t enough of a distraction for you?’

Tilda let out a husky laugh. ‘Let’s see how unhinged it gets. I keep expecting Frank Weaver to pop up and say it was all a big joke,’ she said. ‘Scion officials must get their jollies somehow.’

‘Weaver doesn’t have the imagination for something like this.’

‘True. At least we’re alive,’ Tilda said. ‘That’s more than I expected.’ She crossed one ankle over the other. ‘They really put the spotlight on you at the oration. Your keeper is important, then, is he?’

‘So I’m told. Who’s yours?’

‘Terebell Sheratan. I’m at Oriel,’ she said. I resisted the urge to ask her if she had seen Warden, and roughly how close to death he had looked. ‘What part of Ireland are you from, by the way?’

‘You wouldn’t know it. Why do you ask?’

‘Just curious. I had some Irish friends up north, from Scion Belfast.’

I nodded to her. ‘You a Scouser?’

‘Good ear.’

‘What brought you to London?’

‘Just looking for a job. Scion mostly uses the north for heavy industry. It’s dangerous work – mining, weapons manufacturing, shipbuilding, that sort of thing. Not sure if this is better or worse.’

Tilda took another puff. She had the dab hand of a courtier – someone who used purple aster on the regular. I had never seen anyone tolerate it this well.

‘My keeper gave me some pills,’ I said. ‘Did you get them, too?’

Tilda nodded. ‘The little white one is a contraceptive. It will stop your period.’

Now I wished I had taken it. Mine was due in a few days, and having to cast about for tampons was all I needed.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘The red one?’

‘That’s a food supplement.’

‘And the green one?’

Tilda shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me. I didn’t get a third pill.’

My stomach clenched.

‘If you bring it to me, I can have a look,’ Tilda said. ‘I can’t promise I’ll know it, but I might be able to give you an idea.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I will.’ She was about to take another drag when I spoke again: ‘You went with Carl at the oration, didn’t you?’

‘I don’t associate with him. He’s already turned nose,’ Tilda told me, her face tight. ‘That palmist, Ivy – with the blue hair?’ I nodded. ‘He saw her sneaking out after curfew and dobbed her in, the little scab. You should see what her keeper did to her.’

‘Who is her keeper?’

‘Thuban Sargas. He scares the shit out of me,’ she said. ‘Ivy picked a lock and hightailed it, apparently. Our residences are right across from each other. Carl spied her going down Grove Lane.’

‘What, and told your keeper?’

‘Terebell wasn’t there. He ran to the day porter, and she ran to the staff at Corpus. Absolute scum, the pair of them.’ Tilda blew out smoke. ‘Ivy didn’t hide in time. Thuban brought her back.’

‘Did he hurt her?’

‘He beat her and shaved her head,’ Tilda said. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Her lips thinned. ‘If that’s the price of surviving here, send me to the æther. I’ll go quietly.’

Rain pattered on the shelter above us, dripping near our booted feet.

Ivy was either brave or desperate, to have made a play for escape this early. I had to wonder what had been going through her head.

‘When we arrived at the Detainment Facility, I was sitting with someone in that holding cell,’ I said. ‘Do you know where he went?’

Tilda tilted her head. ‘The bald guy?’

‘That’s him.’

‘Yeah, he’s at Trinity. The main entrance is on the Broad, but if you go down Parks Road, you’ll be able to see the gardens,’ she said. ‘A few people were training out there yesterday.’

‘Thanks.’ I stood. ‘I’ll bring you that pill, if you don’t mind.’

‘Yeah, any time.’

I left her to light up again. Before I headed off, I returned the bowl and spoon to the performer.

Eliza had lost several years to purple aster. Even after Scion used the flower to create flux, the syndicate had never stopped trading in it. There were four types of aster with ethereal properties, each affecting voyants in a different way.

Even before she dabbled in purple, Eliza had been hooked on white, which caused amnesia. Since kicking the habit, she had made me swear never to touch aster. I saw no reason to break that promise.

Still, I couldn’t blame Tilda. Having lived with a whisperer for almost two years, I knew it was one of the hardest gifts to carry.

Trinity was guarded on the side that faced the Broad. I went down Parks Road and ended up outside a set of tall gates. Just as Tilda had reported, a group of soaked humans were on the lawn, led by one of the Rephs. They worked by the light of a lamp post.

Julian was in the group. Half of them were holding silver batons, waving them about as if they were conducting an orchestra.

The Reph suddenly rounded on Julian and threw a spirit at him. It must have caught him off his guard – he lost his footing and crashed to the ground.

‘On your feet,’ she said, her voice carrying. ‘Or do you wish to die here, 26?’

Julian shook his head. He slowly rolled on to his side and shuddered.

‘Get up.’

He couldn’t do it. Of course not – she had just hit him in the face with a furious spirit. She looked down at him with utter disdain before returning to the warm glow of Trinity.

The humans exchanged weary glances before they followed. None of them stayed to help Julian. I pushed the gates, but they caught on a chain.

‘Julian,’ I called.

He raised his head. After a while, he picked himself up and walked to the gates. His boots and white tunic were covered in mud.

‘She loves me,’ he said when he reached me. ‘Really. I’m her star pupil.’

‘I’m sure. What kind of spirit was it?’

‘Just a wisp, I think.’ He rubbed his raw eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m still seeing things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Piles of burning books. A red sky.’

The wisp had left an impression of its final hours. It was an unpleasant aspect of spirit combat.

‘It will pass. Give it a minute,’ I said quietly. He nodded and grasped the gate, blinking a few times. ‘How are you otherwise?’

‘Oh, you know, fine. Just a normal evening with the giants from another world.’

We held it together for a solemn moment, then cracked up at exactly the same time. Wheezing on either side of the gate, we surrendered to the absolute horrifying absurdity of our situation, using our sleeves to muffle our laughter, tears seeping down our cheeks.

‘This is … ridiculous,’ I managed. ‘What is going on here?’

‘We’ve gone mad.’ Julian wiped his eyes. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

‘Okay. I’m glad we agree.’ I sucked in a deep breath, collecting myself. ‘Back to your training. What were those batons?’

‘They help you learn the ropes of spirit combat, like training wheels. Aludra wants us to know how to make and deflect spools by April.’

‘You won’t be an expert by April, but it’s easier than it sounds.’

‘Good to know. Where did you learn?’

‘My parents,’ I said. ‘They were voyant.’ The lie came out smoothly, strong and convincing. ‘Aludra is your keeper, I take it.’

Julian nodded. ‘I don’t know why she volunteered. She clearly hates us.’

‘They all hate us. Can you come outside?’

‘I can try.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Have you heard how the Rephs sustain themselves?’

‘I have. Explains a fair amount, doesn’t it?’

‘Aludra did it to Felix yesterday. All he did was ask for water,’ Julian said grimly. ‘He couldn’t stop shaking when he came round.’

‘They’re not supposed to feed on jackets. One of the performers told me.’

‘Aludra clearly doesn’t care.’ He released the gate. ‘Arcturus hasn’t fed on you, then.’

‘No. I’ve barely seen him.’

Something told me not to mention what had happened in the small hours. All good syndies knew that secrets were a currency, and now and then it paid to let them gather interest for a while.

‘I overheard the amaurotics talking about him,’ Julian said. ‘You’re the first voyant he’s ever trained.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Sure you’re an acultomancer, Paige?’

I gave him a steady look.

‘Julian, I’ll level with you,’ I said. ‘I’m not an acultomancer – you knew that – but it’s safer for me not to say what I am. If you won’t ask about my gift, I won’t ask about yours.’

Julian studied me. This close, I could see that he was full-sighted. The half-sighted could suppress their spirit sight, but Julian always saw the æther, layered over the physical world. Whenever I was in front of him, so was the question mark of my aura.

‘Deal,’ he said. ‘Let me ask if I can sign out.’

‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘I’ll meet you in the Rookery.’

He disappeared into the residence. It occurred to me that he might never come out.

I waited for him by a cookfire. Craving a hot coffee, I held my hands over the flames.

The performers gave me curious looks. Liss must have told them I was the new tenant at Magdalen. I hoped she had kept my gift to herself.

As I sat there, warming my fingers, I couldn’t help but notice the unusual lack of spirits. London was deeply haunted, its streets thronged with the restless dead. Oxford might be smaller, but it was an old city – I should have sensed more than a few wisps and ghosts.

Julian was taking his time. I was about to give up when the main door to Trinity opened, and he stumbled on to the Broad. I went to meet him.

‘What happened?’

‘Aludra,’ he said. ‘She said I could get food, but I wouldn’t be able to smell it. Or taste it.’

When he moved his hand away from his face, I drew a sharp breath. His nose was red and swollen, blood seeping to his chin.

‘You need ice.’ I had a closer look. ‘The performers might have some.’

‘I’m all right. I don’t think it’s broken.’

‘Let’s get you some food, at least.’

As we made our way through the Rookery, I kept an eye out for anything I could use to arm myself. Even something crude would do – a sharp hairpin, a shard of metal. Nothing jumped out at me.

If the Emim breached the city, the performers had no way to defend themselves. The red-jackets were their only protection. I glanced at the old siren, ominous above the shacks.

Julian sat on a low stool. I traded the rat bones for skilly and toke, then found a stall offering various herbs. In exchange for my needles, the performer brewed me an infusion of willow bark, which apparently helped with pain. I took the steaming cup to Julian.

‘Here.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, taking a sip. ‘It’s so cold here. I don’t get it.’

Bruises were forming under his eyes. As I sat cross-legged beside him, another performer brought us a cloth and a bowl of water.

‘Thank you,’ I said, surprised.

She nodded once and walked away. Julian used the cloth to clean up the blood, then moulded it into a cold compress for his nose.

‘So,’ he said, a little thickly, ‘what do we know about the Emim?’

‘Nothing on my end. I’m more curious about the tests, to be honest.’

‘I’ve heard what happens in the first one. You have to verify your gift, prove you have control of it,’ Julian said. ‘Soothsayers and augurs usually have to make a prediction. Mediums have to provoke and survive a possession. You get the picture.’

‘Who told you this?’

‘The night porter at Trinity. He claimed his prediction in his first test got somebody else brought here. I think he was proud of it.’ He drank a little more. ‘My guess is they want us to prove our commitment to this place, even if it puts other humans in danger.’

I refused to give up my humanity, Liss had told me. If you ever mean to earn their trust, you’ll have to cut away your kindness.

‘Great.’ I breathed out. ‘So much for keeping our gifts to ourselves.’

‘I want to stay under the radar, too.’ Pause. ‘We could fail.’

‘That’s always an option.’ I glanced at him. ‘What about the second test?’

‘The night porter wouldn’t talk about that.’ His gaze roamed across the slum. ‘He wears a pink tunic, so he can’t have passed it. The Rephs must need a few of us in administrative roles.’

‘Sounds like a cushy job.’

‘And inconspicuous.’ His face changed. ‘Paige, look. Her fingers.’

I followed his line of sight. Opposite us, a woman in her forties was sitting on a bench, talking to a man of around the same age, both of them eating skilly. Three of her fingers were missing or cropped.

When I looked away from her, I soon noticed other signs of violence: an absent hand, claw marks, scars on arms and legs. These people had been gnawed and thrown out like chicken bones.

‘The Emim.’ I kept my voice down. ‘They must have breached the city.’

‘Or those performers used to be red-jackets,’ Julian said. ‘Maybe they lost their nerve.’

‘Wouldn’t they be wearing yellow tunics if they bottled it?’

‘Aludra explained this to us. You get the yellow tunic if you show cowardice or disobey orders, but only for a month. Once you’ve been humiliated, you revert to your previous tunic.’

‘But three strikes, and you’re out here in the cold for good.’

‘Exactly.’ Julian narrowed his eyes. ‘No one looks much older than fifty, do they?’

‘Not that I’ve seen. What are you thinking?’

‘If there’s been a Bone Season every decade since the Rephs came, we should be seeing people in their nineties, theoretically. Why is everyone so young?’

I gave him an incredulous look. ‘You think the Rephs want to look after us when we’re old?’

‘Honestly, no. I just wanted you to say something reassuring.’

‘Sorry.’ A gust of wind blew my hair into my eyes. ‘No, it is a little strange. You’d think some of the porters or amaurotics would be older. Then again, we might just not have seen them yet.’

‘Thanks. That was reassuring.’ He offered his bread. ‘You want this?’

‘I’m grand.’

We fell into silence, our laughter already fading into a grim memory. Our new reality might be absurd, but it could still kill us.

In London, the stars were faint, drowned out by electric light. Here they glittered in multitudes, sharp and clear, untouched by our little fires. Seeing my interest, Julian looked up as well.

‘Wow.’ He released his breath in a flutter. ‘At least there’s that.’

I nodded, thinking.

Liss had warned me not to let Nashira confirm her suspicions about me. I couldn’t see a way to pass my first test without doing that.

To survive, I was going to have to fail.

There was a sudden hush. I looked down to see Carl, hair freshly combed and parted, wearing a pink tunic under his gilet. The performers cleared a path for him as he strolled into the Rookery.

‘That was quick,’ I murmured. ‘I wonder what he had to do.’

Julian finished his drink. ‘Whip tomorrow’s weather out of a teacup?’

‘That’s augury. I think he’s a soothsayer.’

‘His aura looks bluish to me.’ He gave me a sidelong glance. ‘You’re not sighted, are you?’

I shook my head.

Carl had probably never had a chance to prove himself in London. On the Merits had placed soothsayers at the bottom of the hierarchy of clairvoyance. Jaxon made no secret of his disdain.

They’re a penny a punnet, darling. Pay them no mind.

‘They’re already trying to earn his favour.’ Julian watched a performer offering a shew stone to Carl, the same one I had traded away. ‘They must think pink-jackets have sway over the Rephs.’

Carl brushed the woman off, and she retreated, head downcast.

‘We can’t trust him,’ I said. ‘Remember the palmist, Ivy?’

‘I remember. What happened?’

‘She broke out of Corpus. Carl took it upon himself to report her.’

Julian grimaced. ‘I hope they go easy on her. She didn’t look well.’

Carl kept on with his sauntering. Seeing me and Julian, he flashed a cocksure smile. I toyed with the idea of punching it off him.

Before he could reach us, the oracle stepped into his path, appearing as if from nowhere. From their handshake, the oracle was offering his congratulations. I pursed my lips. Barely two nights in this place, and this pair of fools were already indoctrinated.

‘Julian,’ I said, ‘how many pills do you get?’

‘Just one.’

‘What does it look like?’

‘A red capsule,’ Julian said. ‘Why, how many do you get?’

Carl distracted me from answering. Now he and the oracle were closer to our fire, I could hear snatches of their conversation.

‘—to see the Suzerain. Turns out she’s very keen on finding this White Binder,’ Carl was saying. I tensed. ‘He’s a mime-lord, you know, a syndicate leader. She lent me the most perfect stone so I could scry for his location, and of course, I was happy to—’

‘Paige,’ Julian said. ‘Are you okay?’

A deathly cold swept over me.

‘Fine,’ I said.

Before I knew it, I was striding towards Carl. His eyes popped when he noticed me. I grabbed him by the gilet and marched him away from the oracle, off the path between the stalls. Once I had got him out of sight, I slammed him into a plywood wall.

‘Why is Nashira interested in the White Binder?’

Carl stared at me as if I had just grown a second head. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. What did she want you to do?’

‘None of your business.’

He looked clammy and pale up close, strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

‘I asked you a question, Carl,’ I said, keeping hold of his gilet. ‘I’ll ask another, while I have you. Did you rat on Ivy?’

‘She was out after curfew!’

‘I can see why the Rephs rushed you to your test. You missed your calling as a Vigile.’

‘I was first to be chosen, stupid. We’re probably testing in order of number.’

That did make sense. If he was right, I would be last in line.

‘I get it now. You’re trying to cheat,’ Carl said, his tone almost triumphant. ‘Well, you can shake and intimidate me all you like, but I’m not telling you anything about the first test. It’s not—’

He stopped when I dislocated my spirit and forced pressure into the æther, making it quake around us both. My vision prickled as I fixed him with a hard stare, making it very clear it was me.

‘I thought you were an oracle,’ he whispered. ‘How are you doing that?’

I smiled. ‘Doing what?’

This was a serious risk. I shouldn’t be revealing my abilities, but I needed Carl to spit it out.

‘All right,’ he gasped. ‘Please, just stop it.’ I shifted my spirit back into place. ‘I saw a pillar. That’s it. Just a pillar. I don’t remember any detail. Nashira gave me a shew stone, a good one.’

‘Why the White Binder?’

‘I don’t know.’ He flushed with sudden indignation. ‘The White Binder is a criminal. Why do you care what I tell her about him?’

Blood roared in my ears as he glowered at me. I had to fix this, and fast.

‘I don’t.’ I let go of his gilet and sighed, trying to look contrite. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you, Carl. I’ve just been nervous about the tests, and you passed so quickly. I’m a little envious. After they singled me out like that, I really need to impress my keeper.’

I could turn on the charm when I felt like it. Fortunately, the flattery worked.

‘Don’t worry. That’s understandable,’ Carl said graciously, relaxing. ‘I’m sure you’ll pass. You are an oracle, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. That pressure can happen sometimes, before we send visions,’ I said. Carl nodded along. ‘Congratulations, anyway. Do you know what you’ll have to do for your second test?’

‘Not yet, but I can’t wait. This is a chance for our lives to mean something,’ Carl said, with conviction. ‘24 will see that, too, once she’s a red-jacket.’

When I realised he meant Ivy, I knew he was already lost. I forced another smile and walked back into the firelight, towards Julian.

Carl had reason to be proud. He was a good seer. Nashira had told him what she wanted to know, and he had scried it in a shew stone.

She had been his querent. If the æther – a vast network of spirits and dreamscapes – could be compared to the Scionet, then a soothsayer or augur was the search engine, and the querent gave the terms.

Nashira had given just the right terms to uncover a hidden truth in the æther. Carl had glimpsed the sundial pillar at Seven Dials.

I had to warn Jaxon. Whatever Nashira wanted with him, I couldn’t let her bring him here. How did she even know about him?

Scion was aware of the syndicate, of course. More than once, undercover Vigiles had been planted among us to root out the Unnatural Assembly. Though they had failed, Scion must be familiar with some aliases. The anchor might even have learned that the White Binder was behind On the Merits, an open secret in underworld circles.

But if Nashira was interested in the syndicate, surely her key target should be Hector. Jaxon was just one mime-lord of many.

Jax, what have you done?

Julian raised his eyebrows when I returned. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘Nothing. Just shook him up a bit,’ I said. ‘Are you definitely not eating that bread?’

‘No. You want it?’

‘Seb will. I’ll leave it in his cell at Amaurotic House.’

‘So they lock up voyants in London, and amaurotics here.’ He handed me the bread. ‘You shouldn’t risk it, Paige. I’m sure they’ll feed him.’

‘They haven’t fed us,’ I pointed out. ‘Seb might not be able to visit the Rookery.’ I pocketed the toke. ‘I’m still knackered from the flux. I’ll come back tomorrow. Will I meet you here?’

‘I’ll be here.’ Julian glanced at his residence. ‘If I can get out.’

Amaurotic House was dark and quiet when I arrived. This time, I knew better than to try my luck with Graffias. Instead, I climbed straight up to the window.

Beyond the bars, the room was empty. There was no fireplace in there, no music. Just a single unmade bed and a wardrobe. Seb must have been sent to one of the residences.

The back of my neck prickled. Suddenly wanting to leave, I took the bread from my gilet and slotted it between the bars, hearing it drop to the floor. I lowered myself back down to the street.

Too late, I was sharply aware of the æther. I turned to see a pair of heavy-lidded eyes, cold and unforgiving, locked on mine.