Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
As an esteemed member of the Royal Geographic Society, I appeal to the Convocation to expand Precedent Law to criminalize the pillaging of the Strata by topside thanatists as well as the reshaping of the Strata by the world above via their flawed neo-historic interpretations of our lives and times.
—Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton, chancellor, Victorian Stratum, motion submitted
Inside the Modern Stratum’s Iron Horse, Humble Pie was still ripping their set, now playing “I Don’t Need No Doctor.
” People were up and jiving next to their tables.
I led Emaline backstage to the greenroom, which was luckily empty.
Its walls on this stratum still had photos, but also broadside announcements for vaudeville shows over fading stripped wallpaper.
Still had the grimy old couch, thankfully.
I dropped onto it; Emaline sat next to me and removed her mask.
I figured I’d get the bad news out of the way first. “I couldn’t get the killer’s body and bindings. A thanatist named Bazalgette beat me to it.”
“I know,” she said. “I was monitoring Shiguan body recovery calls.” “But unlike the attack in the alley, this Bazalgette didn’t seem to have any interest in taking me,” I told her. “And Swan’s only interest was buying me off or forcing me to stand trial.”
“The trial was my idea,” she said.
“What?” It was one more thing I wasn’t sure I could handle.
She held up a hand to calm me. “We needed a pretext for convening the Strata Chancery to hold Brach accountable. And having him take the offensive averts any countermeasures he might have taken were you to have summoned him.”
“So, then, I’m not really on trial?”
“The trial is very real. And quite serious. Powerful men and women from all eras—Grace O’Malley, Boudica, Captain Burton, and others—will try to break you down. They always presume the accused is actually guilty. To exonerate you, we’ll need to convict Brach, and we have just two days to do so.”
“You could have talked to me before you put me on trial for murder.” “Brach would have called the trial anyway. He was only waiting to be sure he’d destroyed all evidence of his involvement.”
“Church was confused about why the trial is being conducted by the Strata Chancery instead of the Convocation of Schisms. That your doing, too?” She nodded.
“It’s not uncommon for the Convocation to empower the chancery to prosecute first-time offenses, especially against new thanatists, and especially when the outcome may have a direct impact on the Strata itself.
Even when the Convocation conducts a trial, they usually solicit chancery input.
And schism leaders might still attend your trial, but since Henry wasn’t a schism member, they know you’ll have nominal support and are likely to be convicted. ”
“The news just keeps getting better. And this was your idea?”
“You’d have had the same amount of support if the Convocation had conducted the trial, and this way there’s no option to call for Shiguan anathemetization, should you win.”
I got it. “Because the chancery has no authority to expand the trial to look at other Precedent crimes.”
“As I said, I need to have an eye toward life after Brach. I don’t believe the Shiguan are irredeemable, just victims of poor leadership.”
“What’s the Strata Chancery’s job when it’s not conducting Convocation business? Any chance they might be more lenient—”
Emaline held up a hand. “The chancery is composed of historical figures out of London’s past, Jack.
People who, in many instances, care and look after the Strata more than most schisms do these days.
And they revered Henry for helping them protect the Strata through his steward-ship of the Steps.
They’ll want to see his killer answer for his death. ”
Made sense. “So, now Brach will use the chancery to accuse me of killing Henry to prevent me from restoring the ward.”
“Which is why we need to find new evidence to convict him, to save you and the Iron Horse, and avert Brach’s war rising from the Strata.”
I laughed. “Is that all?”
“I know you’re still acclimating to your change, Jack, but we could do with less sarcasm and more concrete ideas.”
Gangs back home were usually broken up by snitches with information from the inside. “We need someone with access to Brach. Someone who’s part of his plans but might be convinced to talk.” I thought a moment. “What about the woman who tried to abduct me?”
“The freeboot thanatist.”
“Exactly. If she’s a freebooter, then she has no real allegiance to Brach.
Would he trust her with information we could use?” Emaline was quiet a moment. “What did she look like?”
I described her tricornered hat and corset, and how she’d called me “my dear.”
Emaline thumped her hands on her lap. “Ordinarily, no, I don’t believe a contract freebooter would have useful information. But I know the woman you’re talking about. Brach uses her for discreet jobs. In this instance, because of her relationship with him, she just might know something useful.”
“She also snared the wraith that was chasing me. Caught it in an iron net. At least briefly. We could ask her why. Maybe she can tell us something more about it, too.”
Emaline nodded. “It’s worth a conversation. And you know I love when one effort produces two results.”
“Can you get me an address or meeting with her?”
“I’ll look into it. With any luck, I’ll have something for you this afternoon.” “Good. Now, you said you had some information for me?”
Emaline shifted on the couch. “I haven’t found any ward texts in Brach’s library yet, but I did learn that, in addition to a spiritual component, the ward ceremony requires a material component.
When the Cythons attempted to summon a mature wraith to establish a ward of their own, a binding agent was necessary. ”
“Not bunda thread?”
She shook her head. “Something called Orcus thread. It’s woven from strands of soul that trail a semblance’s arrival into the Endless Dark.
Its bond is said to traverse space and time.
Exceptionally hard to harvest and weave.
And even then, not all thanatists can wield the thread.
It’s written that Orcus can reject its thread-binder, and its use requires a heavy toll.
Just looking for it will make you suspect. ”
I pulled out Henry’s field manual and flipped to the section on catalysts. “Nothing about Orcus thread, but it says catalysts can be found in markets in the Strata. Would I find Orcus at one of these?”
“Not likely. Orcus thread is illegal. The rookery at St. Giles would be a good place to start.”
I’d learned about rookeries in my library days back home—Victorian slums that covered several city streets, filled with housebreakers, pawnbrokers, streetwalkers, you name it.
“But, Jack, be careful.”
Her eyes were piercing, her nose straight and smooth, her lips full and red even without any lipstick.
I wanted to kiss her again. Our last kiss had essentially sealed a mortal pact.
It was really inappropriate, and entirely metal.
And would probably get me killed. But she’d made good on her promises so far.
“I’ll take Cassius with me.” I placed my hand over hers on the old grimy couch. “By the way, your timing is impeccable. That bastard Swan might have killed me if you hadn’t shown up.”
She smiled. “You and I have mutual interests, Jack. So why would it surprise you that I’m keeping a close eye on things?”
I wanted to say something witty then, but being this close to her had put me off-balance.
She leaned in close enough that I caught the subtle lilac scent of her.
This time, though, she gently brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and looked several moments into my eyes.
Then, she stood, walked to the door, and paused there.
“I look forward to getting to know you better.” With that, she disappeared through the door, leaving me alone in the greenroom.
I took a moment to breathe the lovely stale cigarette-smoke air and look over the photos on the wall, which got me thinking about Henry.
He’d maintained the ward, the balance between the world and the Strata, all while providing a safe place for lost souls to come when their lives went to hell.
I missed him more than I ever imagined I could. I meant to prove his trust in me.
I popped out into the venue, gathered my friends, and led them back into the greenroom, where I told them what I’d learned about the Strata Chancery trial summons.
Church frowned. “You do understand the seriousness of this, I assume, Jack.”
“I’m starting to.” Then I shared my idea that maybe this wraith that had been hunting me and other songwriters might serve as the mature wraith we needed to renew the ward.
“There’s still the primary half of the ward ritual to complete,” Church reminded me.
“I know,” I said. “The Ward doesn’t think I’m ready, and I can’t argue with that. But I’ve got to get ready. And I only have two days. So, I’m going to stay at it, but you all need to know the risk in case I come up short.”
“I’ll stand that wager,” said Church. “And I,” said Lady.
“For a third option,” said Cassius.
Chuey flashed a grin. “I been keeping you out of trouble since before you had hair in your pits, man. I’m betting the house.”
Felt awfully damned good to have them with me on this thing.
“Apparently, the Ward will require something called Orcus thread to bind a mature wraith to the Horse. It’s illegal.
So, just trying to get some is going to be tricky.
I need to get to the rookery at St. Giles to look for some.
” “That would be on the Greater Victorian Stratum,” said Cassius. “I have a friend or two there.”
“You have friends in a rookery?”
Cassius chuckled. “You are not the only reprobate with whom I choose to spend my time.”
We all laughed, which also felt damned good.
“But, Jack,” said Cassius, “my friend will become evasive if we call upon him as a group.”
I thought about that for a minute. I needed Cassius for his connection and muscle.
“Church, Lady, I’d like to get you back topside.
Everyone’s going to be on edge after feeling Swan’s attack, not to mention they’ve just lost Henry and Jimmy.
Can you try to reassure them?” They nodded and I turned to Chuey. “I need a favor, man.”
“Name it.”
“Would you get hold of every songwriter we know? Tell them Angela and Jimmy have been murdered. That whatever is happening seems to be targeted at songwriters. Tell them to be careful. And tell them to let us know if they see anything unusual.”
“You got it,” he said.
I turned to Church. “We’re going to need something to dicker with.”
From his breast pocket, Church drew a small pouch that jangled as he handed it over. It was filled with silver coins.
“What’s this worth in the Strata?” I asked.
“One silver is roughly a hundred topside dollars,” he said. “So, be watchful. Light fingers all around in a rookery.”
I led them up to the world above. Then, I took a deep breath and started back down with Cassius, hoping the Victorian Stratum wasn’t as much of a nightmare as the Modern had been. But then, I was headed into a den of thieves, and looking to get my hands on illegal thread.