pistol. “People died, Alexander. Friends of mine died. And for what? What did you get from those grease-fingered Wrights?”
“Jacob, listen. I’m sorry you got involved in this, but-”
I stabbed my finger at him, yelling. “You set me up. You knew why everyone was chasing me. You knew that this thing in my chest had something to do with the Cog. And you let me walk out of your house, easy as pie. What the hell?”
The lines on his face were very deep, and his skin was gray. He looked tired.
“Jacob, it’s… I’m sorry. It’s very complicated.”
“Which part, dad? What’s so complicated? That you sold me to the Church? That you used me, my life, to curry favor with the Wrights? Is that it? That you abandoned me, treated me like it was all my fault, my failure, that led to my expulsion from the Academy? Is that what’s so godsdamn complicated?”
I got too close, the old man stepped forward and swung the butt of his revolver in a short upper cut that landed on my chin. I fell back on my heels, then kept going until my head hit the floor. He stood over me, the pistol in my face, his shoulders shaking in rage.
“Don’t try! Do not try to come to me with righteousness, Jacob Burn. I never meant to exile you from the family. You did that. You came home, boiling inside. Nothing could get to you, no one in the family. It killed your mother, drove her out of the house, out of the damn city! My wife left me, Jacob, because you drove her out. It almost killed me. I know you blame me, and maybe you should. But no one kicked you out of my house.”
I lay there, looking up at him. Eventually he calmed down and let me stand up. He stood by the railing, looking peacefully at the Singer.
“So, what?” I asked, wiping blood off my mouth. “You thought to sell my body to the Church, then coddle me in the Manor until I was ready to hatch?”
He didn’t move. We were quiet for a while. I was about to ask again when he spoke.
“I wasn’t sure. It was a chance, and I took it. I’m sorry it came out this way.”
“Well. Me too,” I said after a moment’s silence. I picked up the shotgun and brushed off my pants. My jaw was throbbing, but after the events of the day I barely noticed.
“So what is this thing, in my chest?”
“Do you know what the Cog is? What it can do?”
I nodded. “It’s a pattern. It’s what keeps that Angel together. That’s why he’s trying to get it back, before he loses control.”
“Oh. It’s more than that.” He gripped the railing, squeezed it and let out a long sigh. “Look, this is going to be hard to believe, but the legend, the one about the girl? Camilla? That’s true.”
“Yeah. We’ve met.”
“You’ve… met.” He looked at me tiredly. “Yes, I suppose that’s the sort of impossible thing that would happen to a man like you. So you know. The zepliners, the cogwork… all of it is just derived knowledge. Technology that we’ve sifted from her dissected heart.”
“She has some thoughts on that. You know the map came from her, right?”
“I had my suspicions. And my concerns, about her motives in doing so. But,” he glanced around the room, at the various shrines. “But people in the Council wanted to move forward. Too great an opportunity.”
“Of course,” I said.
“So, yes. The thing in your heart. It’s kind of a reader, I suppose. A translator. It’s very good at implying and imposing the holy patterns of the Algorithm.”
“You sound like a Wright. The Church let something like this out of their care?”
“It required a living body. The Wrights won’t take modification of any kind. They could have put it in anyone, but they needed someone they could trust.”
“And they chose you?” I asked. “Last supplicant of the Celestes?”
“Trust might not be the best word. They needed someone they could control.”
“Ah. Desperation begets control. Of course.”
He sighed. “Of course.”
“Kind of irresponsible. Hiding this artifact in me and then letting me run off to the gutters.”
“We had our eyes, close to you.”
“Who? Valentine? I can’t imagine him working for you.”
He shook his head, still not looking at me.
“Who then?” I stepped close to him, one hand on the railing. The pale light of the Singer made my father look frozen in place, in time. He almost looked noble. “Who were you paying to be my friend?”
He grimaced and looked at me, his eyes sad and hollow.
“Emily.”
I gripped the railing and the shotgun. The trigger creaked under my grip.
“Bullshit. Emily’s a friend, a…” my voice stumbled “…we’re close.”
“Yes. That was the job description.”
I punched him, weakly, my fist glancing off the sagging fat of his jaw. He hardly moved, just leaned away from me, then batted my arm down.
“You’re a fucking liar, Alexander Burn! It’s not possible, Emily would never, she couldn’t. She could never do that to me. You’re just a damn liar.”
“Yes, I am. The Church required it. There was always a chance you’d go off on your own, stray from the desired path. We set it up, before, to make sure you would take to her.”
I slumped against the railing. Her shotgun clattered to the floor.
“I’m sorry, son. It had to be like this.”
“No. It didn’t. Nothing does.” I braced myself, trying to find a place in my mind to fit Emily the spy, the traitor. “Who knew?”
“The Council. Elements in the Church.”
“Tomb?”
“Angela was her handler. That’s how we knew the Cog was in the city, finally, once we lost contact with Marcus.”
I put both hands on the railing and looked down. The sand below was smooth and blank. “What am I supposed to do,” I asked, more to myself.
“What can you do? You have the Cog, and your heart.” He turned from me, looking at the Singer. “You can do pretty much anything you want.”
“I don’t have the Cog,” I said numbly.
“What? How could you… who has it?”
“Sloane. I think. He tracked it down, stole it. I think he killed a friend of mine.”
“Jacob, you can’t mean that. We can’t let them have control of that thing. If it gets back to the Angel-”
“Why would it be any safer from the Angel with me? I haven’t done a great job of protecting the things I care about, recently.”
“They’ve… for fuck’s sake, Jacob. Sloane and his people are negotiating with the Angel. They’re offering him some kind of sacrifice.”
“A deal? But what can he offer them?”
“They’ll think of something,” he said bitterly, then hunched over the railing and closed his eyes.
“If she’s your agent, do you know where Emily is now? Sloane took her, said he had special plans for her.”
He nodded, slowly. “We know.”
“What? What are they going to do with her?”
“Jacob,” he said carefully, “The Angel can’t hold together, not without that Cog. And they aren’t going to offer him that. But a body, specially modified for the purpose-”
“Emily! They’re going to give Emily to the Angel? But, can she survive that? Why would they pick her?”
“Something happened to her, I think. Our sources indicate that there was some kind of surgery, before Sloane got a hold of her. Makes her an ideal candidate.”
“Camilla. Gods, I’ll bet she knew. I’ll bet that little bitch thought to use her to get out. Godsfuck.”
“Whatever it was, they have her.”
“Where is she?” I asked again. I turned toward him and staggered forward. “You know. I can tell, you
