‘Don’t blame yourself, lass. She’s a fool.’ He stepped inside, his weight listing on to his good leg. ‘Hari’s got some business in the citadel, somewhere where the less savoury folk of Manchester gather. Thought we could go along. Try asking after this Jonathan Cassidy that Danica mentioned.’
‘Okay.’ I got up. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Still a wee bit tired after the séance. It took a lot out of me.’ He hesitated. ‘I – I still don’t understand how it was possible. I felt – well, forgive me, Underqueen, but I felt like there was more to it than Warden was telling us.’
I sighed. ‘Tom, if there’s one thing I can tell you about Rephaim, it’s that there’s always more to it than they see fit to tell you.’
Hari’s den of criminals turned out to be a supper room called Quincey’s. It was a slender building on a street corner, with a dirty terracotta fa?ade and windows that fluttered with candlelight. It must have been close to dawn, but if the silhouettes were anything to go by, the place was packed. A gaunt costermonger was selling bread rolls and soup from a cart nearby.
Inside, the walls were dark and tiled, and an amaurotic was playing ‘The Lost Chord’, a blacklisted parlour song I had always liked, on a piano. Each note strained to be heard above the chatter. Somebody threw a handful of nails at the performer – tough crowd –but he sang on.
It was warm enough to make the windows sweat. Hari took us up a floor, shepherded us into a booth, and held out a wad of cash.
‘Courtesy of the Scuttling Queen. A token of her gratitude for your, uh, co-operation.’ I was about to decline, but Maria snatched it. ‘Now, I’ve got to speak to one of my suppliers – keep your heads down.’
The others unmasked, but I kept my respirator on. I wasn’t fool enough to bare my features here, criminal retreat or not.
Maria stood. ‘I’m starving. I’ll get us something to eat.’ I caught her wrist.
‘See if you can find anything out about Cassidy,’ I said. ‘Just be subtle about it.’
‘As if I’m ever anything but.’
She elbowed her way to the bar while I sat with Eliza and Tom, considering our surroundings. A transmission screen above us was broadcasting a local game of icecrosse, Scion’s national winter sport. Jaxon had never allowed us to have the games on in the den, due to their ‘frivolity’, but Nadine would often sneak out to the nearest oxygen bar to watch them. Icecrosse was an amaurotic obsession in London; many of those watching here, however, were voyant. When the Manchester Anchors scored a point, half the spectators slumped over the bar while the others shouted in triumph and pounded each other’s backs.
‘Paige,’ Maria said, when she returned (I could barely hear her over the commotion), ‘the guy at the bar said Cassidy was known for stealing weapons and selling them to black-market traders. His employers at SciPLO eventually caught him red-handed. He escaped on the way to the gallows and is rumoured to be in hiding, but no one knows where.’
‘Naturally,’ I said. ‘Any useful information about him?’
‘He’s bald, amaurotic, and always wore a rag over his face. That’s all. Helpful, I know.’ She squeezed into the booth next to Eliza. ‘I asked about the SciPLO factories. Apparently there are seventeen of them altogether, of varying sizes, all focused on munitions. And there’s no reason Scion should have spent the last year mass-producing munitions, not unless they’re planning another incursion.’
‘Or they’re trying to arm all their soldiers with the scanners,’ I pointed out.
‘I highly doubt you need seventeen factories to do that. Either way, we should stay here and take them out.’
‘The factories?’ Tom said. ‘All seventeen?’
‘Yes, the factories. All seventeen. Get rid of them.’
‘Right,’ I said, deadpan. ‘And how do we do that?’
Maria flicked on her lighter. ‘I’m a pyromancer, Paige.’ She beckoned a spirit, and it carried the flame to the end of her cigarette. ‘I promise you, I can manage a little arson.’
Eliza yanked down her hand. ‘Maria, there are rotties in here,’ she hissed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Nobody cares, sweet. Look.’
She motioned to a nearby table, where a seer was sitting with a crystal ball beneath her hand. GENUINE UNNATURAL, a sign proclaimed. OUTCOMES OF ALL ICECROSSE GAMES REVEALED. The unnatural in question was surrounded by eager amaurotics, none of whom appeared to be reporting her.
The conversation paused while a waitron laid out our food and glasses of hot chocolate. ‘What I’m saying,’ Maria continued, when he left, ‘is that if we can’t get into the factories—’
‘We’re not burning anything down,’ I said. ‘If we destroy the factories, we destroy the trail that could lead us to the core.’
‘You have any better ideas, kid?’
I surveyed the room again. ‘We have to track down this Cassidy. Dani wouldn’t have given me his name if she didn’t think he could help.’
‘We could also contact Catrin Attard,’ Maria said.
Eliza tilted her head, and I explained: ‘Roberta’s sister, condemned to hang. If she helped the Vigiles revolt, she’s clearly willing to resist Scion.’
‘The Scuttling Queen warned us against communicating with her sister.’ Tom looked over his shoulder. ‘We shouldn’t disrespect her wishes on that front. This is her turf.’
‘We can’t quibble over turf any more, Tom,’ I said tersely, and he grunted.
‘She could drive us out if she finds out we’re poking around. Besides, by all accounts, Catrin is under Scion’s lock and key.’
I massaged my temple. If we were going to enter SciPLO without dying in the attempt, it would have to be carefully planned.
‘I have an idea about where we can find Cassidy,’ I said. ‘It’s a long shot, though.’
‘This whole revolution is a long shot,’ Maria reminded me.
‘Hari mentioned a district called Ancoats. He said a lot of Irish workers live there.’
Eliza frowned. ‘So?’
‘Cassidy is the anglicised form of an Irish surname.’
Her expression cleared. ‘Like yours.’
‘Exactly.’ Mahoney was the one part of our heritage my father had clung on to. ‘If he’s hiding in Ancoats, the people there might reveal his location to one of their own.’
‘Good thinking,’ Maria said.
I finished my drink. ‘While I’m gone, we need to pursue other angles. Tom: I want you to try speaking to some of the factory workhands. Ask what they do in there, see if anyone’s likely to talk. Maria, Eliza: find out if Catrin Attard is still alive and where she’s being held. And make sure you don’t attract attention from Roberta or the Scuttlers.’
Between all these lines of investigation, we had to find something that could nudge us a little closer to unlocking the secret of Senshield. If we didn’t, and I returned to London empty-handed, I doubted I would be Underqueen for long.
12
Fortress