Jack went straight to I-4 to assess how it had changed since Jaxon had left. At my behest, he promised to give Zeke and Nadine an ultimatum: relocate to a Mime Order safe house and join us, or fend for themselves. Either way, they had to leave I-4. I had delayed the inevitable for too long.
Several of my commanders had eyed me with displeasure as I stepped down from the stage. Over the last few weeks, I had learned that the Pearl Queen and Glym had the toughest approaches, and the utmost respect for tradition. Tom had a softer heart than he let on. Maria was fairly unpredictable, while Minty tended to do whatever she thought would cause the least offence. Wynn tried to protect the vulnerable.
Usually, they produced a good mix of views, but only Wynn, out of all of them, had shown real approval of my verdict on Ivy. She had taken my hands and promised that my kindness would not go unnoticed.
Elsewhere, kindness was not seen as an admirable quality. News would be spreading through the syndicate now, warning my voyants that their Underqueen was weak.
It couldn’t be helped. Ivy had been through too much for one lifetime.
Back at the hideout, Nick set about making supper while I tended to my injuries from the scrimmage. The slash along my side was itching as it healed, driving me spare. It blazed from underarm to hip in a trail of pink and red. A token from my old mentor. Warden had far deeper scars, his punishment for betraying the Sargas – punishment he would never have received if not for Jaxon. I had never seen them, but I had felt the wales of scar tissue that laddered his back. Jaxon Hall had left his mark on all our lives.
One day soon, he would pay for it.
I faced the mirror and sluiced the greasepaint off. Beneath it, my dark lips looked bruised, and my eyes were steeped in shadow. Weeks of living on broth and coffee had urged my bones against my skin.
This was not a leader’s face.
As I turned, something glinted in the mirror. I touched a finger to the necklace I wore, the one Warden had given me, with the pendant shaped like wings. It had saved my life after the scrimmage.
Downstairs, Nick was at the wood-burning stove, stirring whatever was steaming in the pan, and Eliza was head down over a piece of paper. As soon as I entered, she looked up.
‘You,’ she said darkly, ‘are one lucky woman.’
‘Yes, I often reflect on how very lucky I am. Lucky enough to be detained by Scion and taken to a prison city for half a year. Let’s bottle my good luck and sell it. We’ll make a killing.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Jack bloody Hickathrift flirted with you, and you’re not even a tiny bit hot and bothered. Do you know how long I’ve been in love with that man?’
I sat down. ‘You’re welcome to offer yourself as his mollisher, but I think you’ll have to queue.’
‘No, thank you. I’d want to be his one and only lover,’ she purred.
I raised a faint smile at that, but it faded when I saw what she was working on. A list, she told me, of everywhere the new Senshield had been reported as being used. Cash machines, phone boxes, Scion taxis, and the doorways to oxygen bars, hospitals, schools, supermarkets and homeless shelters had all been reported as potential death-traps. No voyant could go about the citadel for long without encountering something on that list.
Nick handed us each a mug of tea and a bowl of barley soup. The wan light from the oil lamp made his face look pinched.
‘There’s discontent in the syndicate, Paige,’ he said. ‘They’re not pleased with the outcome of the trial.’
Surprise, surprise. ‘Hector gave them a taste for bloodshed,’ I said, ‘but they don’t have a right to it. Ivy needs protection, not more punishment.’
‘I’m glad you weren’t hard on her. I’m just warning you that some of your voyants aren’t.’
‘Well, if they could handle Hector’s decisions, and heaven knows they were piss-poor, then they can handle mine.’
‘Your piss-poor decisions?’
I gave him a look. He smiled a little, the first genuine smile I had seen from him in days.
‘Sorry.’
‘You’re not funny. When’s Dani back from her shift?’
‘About one,’ Eliza said.
I checked my watch. Half past eleven. The chances that Danica had been able to find anything out were minuscule, but she was the only one of us on the inside; and if anyone had the willpower to find out where the power source of Senshield was, it was Danica Pani?.
‘Errai spoke to me after the trial,’ Nick said. ‘He said that Terebell wants to see you tonight – at midnight. I’ll go with you.’
‘Great. I can’t wait to be belittled for an hour.’ Among other things, I would have to ask Terebell for money. ‘Do you have the accounts?’
Eliza unearthed the ledger and pushed it across the table. I scanned our streams of income. More like trickles, except for Terebell’s lump sums and syndicate tax. The only reason Hector had been effortlessly rich, I imagined, was because the grey market had raked in so much extra income.
I closed the ledger. ‘Let’s make ourselves presentable. Eliza, can you check that the Unnatural Assembly have all handed over their taxes on the syndicate rent?’
‘Sure.’
Terebell wanted to meet us at an abandoned building in Wapping. One of our local moto drivers picked us up from the corner of the street. We didn’t get far before the screens across the citadel came to life; an announcement from our glorious Inquisitor was imminent. I called for the driver to stop, and the moto swerved to the side of the road. Across the river, Frank Weaver appeared on the transmission screens.
‘Denizens of the citadel, this is your Inquisitor,’ he said. ‘For security reasons, due to a threat that cannot be discussed at this time, a curfew will be imposed in the capital from eight P.M. to five A.M., effective immediately. Scion employees on night duty are exempt, but must be in uniform and in possession of ID when they travel. We ask you to trust that this extraordinary measure has been put in place for your protection, and we thank you for your co-operation. There is no safer place than Scion.’
He vanished, replaced by the anchor on a white background. All I could hear was my breath inside the helmet.
‘We’re going back,’ Nick said. ‘Now.’
As the moto drove away, I could see people on the streets pointing at the screens, anger etched on to their faces, but they gradually began to trickle back to their homes.
Our driver returned us to the docklands. My mind whirred like an overworked machine, drilling out every potential consequence of this announcement. Coupled with the hidden scanners, a curfew could do a lot of damage to the Mime Order’s ability to function.
Eliza looked up from the taxes as we burst in.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Official curfew,’ I said. ‘Eight to five.’
‘Oh, no. They can’t have—’ She bolted the window. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be with the Ranthen?’
‘It’ll have to wait.’