This was going to be bad.
Agent Lin knew it from the number of dark shapes against the evening sky. Six bats, their wings a blur, meant that they hadn’t just sent a representative to deal with her – they had come themselves, with an entourage against the wilds of Sarn. Perhaps it was even the Drowned One herself. Wouldn’t that be hideous?
She glanced at the wreckage of the winnowline beside her. They had had a brief rain shower earlier that day, which had filled the air with the smell of wet soot, and now parts of the thing were black and skeletal, while the corpse of the worm-touched monster that had delayed them merrily stank up the place. The main engine itself had been detached from the rest of the carriages in time and had survived more or less intact; the woman Pamoz was up there now, trying to get the thing moving again. She was, Agent Lin suspected, avoiding her, as were the small team of fell-witches who powered the contraption. Lin sneered to think of them. They were meek things, grateful for the tiny scraps of freedom thrown to them by the Winnowry, and, of course, now they were quietly furious that their precious winnowline was in jeopardy. Without it they might be forced to go back to their miserable cells.
There was a beating of wings and the bats were landing back down the line, kicking up dust. At the back, Lin noted one mount without a rider – her bat, the one she had sent back to the Winnowry, carrying her message.
‘Fell-Lin.’
It was Father Eranis, his large hands held behind his back, his dark grey hair tossed around by the persistent wind. He was smirking, as he always was, but his eyes were cold. Behind him she could see the squat form of what was surely Sister Resn, her face a blank silver mask, and a fell-agent she did not know. The woman was short and stocky, her hair pulled back from her round face with a strip of blue material. She met Lin’s eyes steadily, and Lin held herself very still. This agent was here to keep her in line, should she decide to misbehave. Not a good sign.
‘Quite a mess, this, isn’t it?’ Father Eranis nodded at the remains of the carriages.
Lin pressed her lips together. ‘I told you the girl was dangerous. She is very volatile. And how could I have predicted that she’d come to the winnowline as a means of escape?’
‘Yes, that is quite unusual.’ Father Eranis came alongside her. He smelled powerfully of soap. It made her nose itch. ‘I had a hand in this project, you know, Fell-Lin. We had hoped that the winnowline would eventually encompass all of Sarn. Which is why I wanted to come and look at the ruins of it personally.’ The smirk was gone from his face now, the lines at the corners of his mouth deep with displeasure. ‘This is a significant setback. The passengers?’
Agent Lin briefly entertained the idea of burning him alive, but the other agent’s eyes had not left her once. Control, always control. ‘Before I sent the message to you, I got word to the next stop on this line. Men came with carts, and they were taken ahead.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Really, the damage is not so much—’
‘It is not for you to say what the damage is, aberration.’ The voice was a soft and dusty whisper, and at the sound of it, Agent Lin felt a genuine stab of dread. The Drowned One. She had not seen her alight from the bats. Father Eranis stepped to one side, his head lowered in respect, and the tiny figure came forward. Agent Lin saw her lined face, her wispy cap of hair, her grey skin. Everything of her spoke of great age and dust and despair. She wore the black wrappings of her order, stained grey in places with sea salt, and her hand – the fingers white and too soft – clasped the smooth end of her walking stick: a piece of carved driftwood. She was so pale that she looked powdered with the ash of the Fell-order – her pallor looked as though it might come away on your finger if you brushed the bony knob of her cheek. All colour, all joy had long since been washed away by her precious seawater. Behind her, Fell-Mary loomed.
‘What do you know about the missing one, Fell-Lin?’
Agent Lin clasped her hands in front of her, feeling the soft friction of the calf-skin gloves. She dearly wanted to take them off, but to do so in front of Mother Cressin would be an insult bordering on a threat. At least she had knowledge to give the old crone – Pamoz the engineer had been reasonably helpful.
‘The girl appears to be travelling with a woman called Lady de Grazon and an Eboran man.’
For the first time that Lin could remember, Mother Cressin looked faintly surprised. Near invisible eyebrows sent creases across her grey forehead.
‘An Eboran? Out here?’
‘He’s a mercenary of sorts. I’ve heard all sorts of rumours about him in Mushenska, none of them savoury. It’s de Grazon we should be taking notice of, Mother.’ She paused. It was always difficult to call this woman by that title. She swallowed down her bile and continued. ‘I think I know where she’s going. According to Engineer Pamoz, the woman is a famous eccentric, obsessed with the Jure’lia, of all things.’
‘Filth,’ said Mother Cressin, mildly. ‘A cancer from beyond this realm.’
‘Yes, well. She was travelling to the Greenslick region, and it just so happens there’s another Jure’lia-obsessed lunatic there. I’ve no idea why the witch is travelling with de Grazon, but Pamoz seemed to think she was working for the woman. It’s a place to start.’
Mother Cressin nodded at the ground.
‘Two people died in this mess, Fell-Lin. Eight more were injured. Two children – untainted children – were drained to a dead faint. You are one of our most controlled agents, I have been told. I see no evidence of control in this.’ She gestured to the gutted carriages, and her voice became low and dangerous. ‘Do you know why we don’t send a whole army of agents after runaways, Fell-Lin?’
‘Discretion, Mother.’
‘The Winnowry performs a holy function. People trust us to keep them safe. All our movements out in the world must be quiet ones. To kill two innocents in pursuit of one fell-witch – tell me, what do you think the penalty should be?’
Lin stood very still. When she didn’t answer, Mother Cressin cleared her dry throat.
‘Of course, it’s not you who pays the price, is it? I want you to know, Agent Lin, that it pains me that it is not you who suffers. You, after all, are the crack through which evil seeps into the world. What was the penalty last time you made a mistake such as this?’
Lin found that her mouth was clamped so tightly shut that she couldn’t speak. With an effort, she forced herself to open her mouth, and her jaw popped audibly.