‘Took me far too long to escape. I reached the coast and stowed on board a ship carrying lumber to Liverpool. Then I made a living for myself here. For a time.’
He kept eating. The room was tilting on its head. They were using forced labour in Ireland, my homeland – bleeding it dry to fuel Nashira’s vision of a world ruled by Scion.
‘I don’t understand,’ I managed. ‘On ScionEye, they’ve always talked about “the Pale”. I thought—’
‘You thought that was the only area Scion had full control over. It’s a nice lie they tell their denizens, so they can convince everyone that we brogues are violent. There is no Pale. Scion controls Ireland.’
The next question was one I shouldn’t ask. He was right; I shouldn’t taint my memories. I shouldn’t know. I should keep my childhood in a glass box, where nothing could stain it.
‘Did you—’ I stopped, then: ‘Did you ever hear of Feirm na mBeach Meala?’
‘I didn’t.’
Of course he hadn’t. ‘It was a dairy farm in Tipperary. Family-owned,’ I said, already knowing that he would shake his head. ‘The owners’ names were éamonn ó Mathúna and Gráinne Uí Mhathúna.’
‘They would have lost it. Most family farms were merged into larger ones. Factory farms.’
My grandfather had always been opposed to factory farming. His animals had been treated gently. Quality over quantity, he’d told me once while he bottled milk. Rush the cow, spoil the cream. That farm had been their life; all they had worked for since they married in their teens.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘For telling me.’
‘Not a bother.’ The man patted my hand. ‘I wish you all the best of luck with what you’re trying to do, Paige Ní Mhathúna, but it’s best you don’t think about Ireland any more. There’s a reason this cookshop is called by the name it is.’ He turned away. ‘All of us left loved ones in the shadow.’
Manchester spun past the window, a mural of grey shapes against the sky. I sat in silence on the monorail.
The birthplace of my memory was gone. I should have known that Scion, traders in human flesh, would have no mercy on the children of Ireland. I pictured soldiers marching through the Glen of Aherlow, setting fire to everything they touched.
The wind scourged my face as I got off the train. My ribs felt broken, as if they could no longer hold my shape. I had left, and my grandparents had stayed. And it couldn’t be undone. Even if they weren’t dead, losing the farm would have killed them inside. I forced myself not to think of them dying in a camp, or trying desperately to live off the land.
I would become stone. For the people here, for my grandparents, for myself. I would shatter Scion, as they had shattered the country I loved, even if it took me every day of the rest of my life.
And I would begin here. No matter what the cost.
Darkness had fallen by the time I got back to Essex Street. The Red Rose was stifling and crammed with people, most of whom were engrossed in another icecrosse game and sporting waistcoats stamped with MANCHESTER ANCHORS or MANCHESTER CONQUERORS. When I’d forged a path through the elbows and backs, Hari beckoned me to the counter. I took the polystyrene cup of tea he handed me, along with the key to the safe house, and trudged up the stairs, leaving flecks of snow in my wake. Tom was waiting for me in the living room.
‘Any luck, Underqueen?’
‘Yes.’ I took off my respirator. Beneath it, my hair was pasted to my forehead and nape. ‘Looks like we need to get into SciPLO Establishment B.’
I relayed to him what I had learned. He stroked his beard, eyes slightly narrowed.
‘They’re going to great lengths to keep what happens in there a secret,’ he said when I finished. ‘Why?’
‘Senshield is Vance’s key weapon. She has to protect it,’ I said. ‘A portable Senshield, especially, has to be kept secret – if the Vigiles had more than a suspicion that they were about to become obsolete, then Scion would be dealing with more than a few small-scale revolts. I think she wants to arm all the soldiers with the scanners, then axe the Vigiles.’
‘Maybe you’re right. Well, nice work. I didna have any luck on my end,’ he said. ‘I dressed like a beggar and waited outside Establishment D. I couldna get many of the workhands to talk, but those that did said nothing out of the ordinary happened in there. Gillies drove me off after a while, so I went to Establishment A. Same result.’
‘That’s because there’s nothing to know,’ I said, ‘unless you work in Establishment B.’
He smiled grimly. ‘And nobody comes out of there to tell the tale.’
Eliza and Maria returned as he spoke. They had visited the voyant publishing house in Withy Grove, trying to find out what they could about Catrin, to no avail. While the Querent’s writers were sympathetic to the Mime Order’s cause, they had the same ethos as Grub Street: strictly revolution through words. I updated them on what I had uncovered, then told them to get warm and have something to eat. I needed space to think.
In the attic, I sat alone and marked two locations on a map. The first was that of SciPLO Establishment B, which was in the adjacent section of the citadel. The second was that of Spinningfields Prison, quarter of a mile from here, the current abode of Catrin Attard.
For a long time, I sat in the dark, considering my options.
Leaving aside the botched raid on the warehouse, this would be the Mime Order’s first heist. There was information in that factory, and I meant to steal it.
First, I needed to get inside. I was a dreamwalker, capable of moving through walls and locked doors, but my weakness – my need for oxygen – put me on a time limit. My life-support masks weren’t designed to sustain me for more than a few minutes; I needed longer to investigate the factory, and if it was there, to destroy the core – and I didn’t yet have the mastery of my spirit to stay in someone else’s body for that long without causing damage to my own.
I would have to go to the factory in person. And to do that, especially without alerting Roberta, I would need help.
Catrin Attard was eager to oppose Scion, if her short-lived union with the Vigiles was anything to go by. She would have the level of local knowledge and support, as an Attard, to get me into SciPLO Establishment B. There were a lot of good reasons to approach her. She was about to get acquainted with the end of a rope.
Catrin and Roberta Attard. These sisters were like two halves of Hector: one with his bloodlust, the other with his unwillingness to change.
Terebell would want me to do whatever it took to find Senshield’s core. Something in that factory would lead us there. I felt it.
I got up and restlessly paced the room. As I passed the window, a glint of colour caught my attention. A Scuttler was opposite the safe house, watching. Her lavender neckerchief was vivid even in the smog.