Chapter 7 #2
Brach smiled thinly. “Let go of your suspicion, Mr. Solomon. You already know my people are among the few even looking for Henry. No, unlike your world today, mutual disagreement between Henry and me never had to mean mutual hatred. And one thing we never disagreed about was the need to maintain a strong ward in order to preserve balance between the worlds above and below.”
I looked around at my friends again. “Still, man, you’re talking to the wrong people if you’re asking us to help you put a lid on the kind of songs we sing. Pretty sure Henry told you the same.”
“Yeah, no offense, Father,” Chuey added, “but back home even John Denver didn’t go in for that. The Senate had him testify about it, too—him and Zappa and Twisted Sister.”
“How very congressional,” said Brach. “As I recall, Twisted Sister was charged with encouraging sadomasochism, bondage, and rape. Your Insane Clown Posse inspired some fans to burn and dismember a young girl. Your Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne have encouraged fans to suicide. And we haven’t even come to sexual obscenity, inciting violence against authority, and the outright advocacy of murder, which are actually present in all your forms of music.
Is this really the music you want to champion? ”
“That’s some crazy deep trivia right there,” Chuey said.
“I make a point to study music of all types from all eras,” said Brach. “As do my people, the Shiguan.”
Lady shook her head. “The US Surgeon General’s report concluded that these violent acts were committed by people who were already unstable.”
“It’s more than that.” I fingered my elastic bands. “Aggressive music helps some fans cope with their anger, keeps them from harming others . . . and themselves.”
Brach was quiet a moment. “When my eldest daughter, Camilla, passed, I was beside myself with grief. As a musician, I sought relief in song, which you might appreciate. But nothing worked until Henry showed up with his violin. He’d written a piece for her.
A duet, as it happens. I joined him with my viola and together we played to her memory.
It didn’t take away the pain, but it helped. Henry always helps.”
“I’m sorry about your daughter.” I meant it.
Brach nodded. “In any case, I can only advise. But I will tell you that in the Strata we’ve begun to find the value of focusing only on songs like Henry’s—songs that bring us together, help us remember, and speak of common truths.”
I stared back at him. “You mean an ‘all art for the Shiguan’ kind of thing?”
Brach frowned. “I encourage you to guard your tongue with respect to things you know so very little about.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever you decide,” said Brach, “I will continue to do what’s necessary to protect the Strata and the people who live there. And I would welcome your help, should you become so inclined.”
“How would that go?” I asked.
“Quite simple,” Brach said, holding out a hand to shake, “I formally invite you to join the Shiguan—”
“That like a gang?” Chuey chimed in.
Brach grimaced. “No, it is not like a gang. And it would come with the added resources you need to protect the Iron Horse.”
I had Henry’s books, but not much else. “Church?”
“The Shiguan do have the Strata’s largest known collection of arcana,” Church said.
“Not to mention the training and resources we might need.” “You could all join us,” Brach said, “which would be invaluable to our search for Henry. You could even help lead that effort, if you wish.” I didn’t immediately reach to accept Brach’s offer.
“On the other hand,” said Brach, his voice dropping, going hard, “if you choose to go it alone, I’ll advise you not to complicate our search.”
I just wasn’t a joiner, I guess. Plus, I couldn’t read this guy, and that bothered me. “Appreciate the offer. But I think I’ll just start getting a handle on this thanatist thing the best I can ’til Henry gets back.”
Brach slowly lowered his hand. “I believe that to be imprudent, Mr. Solomon, but should you need anything at all, please know that I am at your disposal.”
I’d clearly pissed him off, and maybe I’d just turned down our best chance at finding Henry. But all I had to go on was instinct at this point. Brach drew a black knife and spindle of thread from his bag and spooled out a hand’s length. When he cut it, a spark of gold light flared.
He handed me the bit of thread. “For your veiled friend.”
I knew from my reading that “veiled” meant true mortal.
“Make him a reflection band,” Brach went on, “so he can see the thanaturgic world. Otherwise, he’s at risk, and probably a liability. Though, come to think of it, I’ve been taken for worse things than a priest.”
Chuey looked at me and shrugged.
“And for our part,” continued Brach, “the Shiguan will search tirelessly until Henry is found.”
He strode past me, stirring candle flames as he swept toward the door. He paused there and looked back at me with a smile I also couldn’t read, then disappeared into the crowd outside.