“The people will not like that,” Vambrace warns. “They have had their victory, now they want the spoils. The scrap metal and spare parts from that conurbation—”
“I have not brought London all this way for scrap metal and spare parts,” Crome interrupts. He stands at the handrail on the roofs rim and stares east. He can already see the white summits of high mountains on the horizon, like a row of pearly teeth. “We must press on. A few more days will bring us within range of the Shield-Wall. I have announced a public holiday, and a reception at the Guildhall to mark the great event. Think of it, Vambrace! A whole new hunting ground!”
“But the League know we are coming now,” warns Vambrace. “They will try to stop us.”
Crome’s eyes are bright and cold, gazing at the future. He says, “Valentine has his orders. He will deal with the League.”
And so London kept moving, dragging itself eastward as the smoke of the dead conurbation towered up into the sky behind, and Katherine walked to the elevator stations through the wet wreckage of last-night’s celebrations. Broken Chinese lanterns blew across the shuddering deckplates, and men in the red livery of the Recycling Department wheeled bins around, gathering up abandoned party-hats and soggy banners whose messages were still dimly to be read: We V Magnus Crome and Long Live London. Dog played chase with a billowing paperchain, but Katherine called him sharply to heel. This was no time for games.
At least in the Museum there were no banners and no paperchains. The Historians’ Guild had never been as quick as the rest of London to welcome new inventions from the Engineers, and they made no exception for MEDUSA. In the dusty shadows of the exhibition galleries there was a decent silence, as befitted the morning after the death of a whole city. The sounds of the streets outside seemed muffled, as if thick, soft curtains of time hung in the dim air between the display cabinets. The quietness helped Katherine to gather her thoughts, and by the time she reached Chudleigh Pomeroy’s office she was quite clear about what she had to say.
She had not yet told Mr Pomeroy what she had learned in the Engineerium, but he had seen how shaken she was when he left her at Clio House the night before. He did not seem surprised to find her and Dog at his door.
“Mr Pomeroy,” she whispered, “I have to talk to you. Is Bevis here? Is he all right?”
“Of course,” he said at once. “Come in!”
Bevis Pod was waiting for her in the little teak-panelled office, dressed in borrowed Historian’s robes, his pale skull looking as fragile as an eggshell in the dim yellow glow of the Museum lamps. She wanted to run to him and hold him and apologize for what she had led him into, but crammed in around him were about a dozen Historians, some perching on the arms of chairs and the corners of Pomeroy’s desk. They all looked up guiltily at Katherine, and she looked back at them with a sudden, horrible fear that Pomeroy had betrayed her.
“Don’t worry,” said Pomeroy kindly. “If Pod’s to be a guest of the Museum I thought my fellow Historians should be introduced to him. None of us are friends of the Lord Mayor. We have agreed that Apprentice Pod can stay as long as necessary.”
The Historians made a space for her next to Bevis. “Are you all right?” she asked him, and was relieved when he managed a nervous smile. “Not bad,” he whispered. “It’s strange here. All this wood everywhere, and old stuff. But the Historians are very kind…”
Katherine looked around the room at them. She knew many of them by sight; Dr Arkengarth, Dr Karuna, Professor Pewtertide, young Miss Potts, Norman Nancarrow from Prints and Paintings and Miss Plym, who was sniffling into her hankie.
“We’ve been talking about the destruction of Panzerstadt-Bayreuth,” said Pomeroy, pressing a hot mug of cocoa into her hands. “This horrible MEDUSA device.”
“Everybody else seems to think it’s wonderful,” said Katherine bitterly. “I could hear them laughing and shouting ‘Good old Crome’ half the night. I know they’re relieved that we didn’t get eaten, but… Well, I don’t think blowing up another city is anything to be happy about.”
“It’s a disaster!” agreed old Dr Arkengarth, wringing his bony hands. “The vibrations from that vile machine played havoc with my ceramics!”
“Oh, bother your ceramics, Arkengarth,” snapped Pomeroy, who could see how upset Katherine was. “What about Panzerstadt-Bayreuth? Burned to a cinder!”
“That’s what comes of the Engineers’ obsession with Old-Tech!” said Professor Pewtertide. “Countless centuries of history to learn from, and all they are interested in is a few ancient machines!”
“And what did the Ancients ever achieve with their devices anyway?” whined Arkengarth. “They just made a horrible mess of their world and then blew themselves up!”
The others nodded dolefully.
“There was a great museum in Panzerstadt-Bayreuth,” said Dr Karuna.
“I believe they had some wonderful paintings,” agreed Nancarrow.
“Unique examples of 30th Century c-c-cabinet-making!” wailed Miss Plym, and collapsed in tears on Arkengarth’s knobbly shoulder.
“You must excuse poor Moira, Katherine,” whispered Pomeroy. “She had terrible news this morning. Crome has ordered that our furniture collection be broken up to feed the furnaces. It’s the fuel shortage, you see, a result of this mad journey east.”
Katherine couldn’t have cared less about furniture or ceramics at that moment, but she felt glad that she was not the only one in London appalled by what the Lord Mayor had unleashed. She took a deep breath, then quickly explained what she and Bevis had heard in the Engineerium; about MEDUSA and the next step in Crome’s great plan; the attack on the Shield-Wall.
“But that’s terrible!” they whispered when she had finished.
“Shan Guo is a great and ancient culture, Anti-Traction League or no Anti-Traction League. Batmunkh Gompa can’t be blown up…!”
“Think of all those temples!”
“Ceramics!”
“Prayer-wheels…”
“Silk paintings…”
“F-f-furniture!”
“Think of the
“Yes! Yes!” they agreed, and then all looked sheepishly at her. After twenty years of Crome’s rule they had no idea how to stand up to the Guild of Engineers.
“But what can we do?” asked Pomeroy at last.
“Tell people what is happening!” urged Katherine. “You’re Acting Head Historian. Call a meeting of the Council! Make them see how wrong it is!”
Pomeroy shook his head. “They won’t listen, Miss Valentine. You heard the cheering last night.”
“But that was only because Panzerstadt-Bayreuth had been going to eat us! When they leam that Crome plans to turn his weapon on yet another city. …”
“They’ll just cheer all the louder,” sighed Pomeroy.
“He has packed the other Guilds with his allies anyway,” observed Dr Karuna. “All the great old Guildsmen are gone; dead or retired or arrested on his orders. Even our own apprentices are as besotted with Old-Tech as the Engineers, especially since Crome foisted his man Valentine on us as Head Historian… Oh, I mean no offence, Miss Katherine…”
“Father isn’t Crome’s man,” said Katherine angrily. “I’m sure he’s not! If he knew what Crome was planning he would never have helped him. That’s probably why he was packed off on this reconnaissance mission, to get him out of the way. When he gets home and finds out he’ll do something to stop it. You see, it was he who found MEDUSA in the first place. He would be horrified to think of it killing all those people. He will want to make amends, I’m sure he will!”
She spoke so passionately that some of the Historians believed her, even the ones like Dr Karuna who had been passed over for promotion when Crome put Valentine in charge of their Guild. As for Bevis Pod, he watched her with shining eyes, filled with a feeling that he couldn’t even name; something that they had never taught him about in the Learning Labs. It made him shiver all over.
Pomeroy was the first to speak. “I hope you’re right, Miss Valentine,” he said. “Because he is the only man who can hope to challenge the Lord Mayor. We must wait for his return.”
