off. I delivered it.'
'To whom?' she asked.
'The Fehn. That was the contract.'
'It seems unlikely to me that a device delivered to the Fehn could then cause a fire on the docks. There is a great deal of river between those two places.' She stared distractedly out the front of the carriage. 'Tell me, who contracted you to do this thing?'
I thought of Crane, up in the tower of Angela's grand home. What would this industrialist do with that knowledge?
'I don't really know, not yet. The guy who hired me, he was probably a ruse. Just passing the thing on to me. I'm sure there's someone above him. Just trying to figure out who it is.'
'Could it be someone in the Council?' she asked carefully.
'Seems to me that there's not much that goes on in this city that doesn't get touched by someone in the Council.'
'That's a very roundabout way of saying that you don't know, but that you intend to find out.' She smiled. 'And if anything I've heard about you is even vaguely true, you will find out by knocking people over and kicking them until they tell you what you want to know.'
I snorted. 'I like to think I'm a little more subtle than that,' I said.
'I don't think you are, Jacob. I think you're a blunt instrument, accustomed to bloody work.' She held up a hand when I frowned. 'Don't get me wrong. I think there's a place for that. But I think that this matter may be a great deal more nuanced than you are prepared to manage.'
I was quiet for a minute. We were making terrible time toward the Massif. It was in sight, but we were crawling toward it. I stared out at the guards who surrounded us. They were paying special attention to a nearby alleyway, and talking among themselves. I looked that way.
'These six attacks. How many of them were like this morning?' I asked.
'How many of them involved the wholesale butchering of a family of the Council? None,' she answered. 'Like I said, Jacob. Too blunt. Like the rent house, or the docks. They were attacks on properties that didn't seem to be connected to any special thing. There was no pattern.'
'It wasn't an attack on the docks. It was an attack on the Fehn. And if they're so wildly different, how do you know they're all from the same attacker? Veridon can be a violent city. To say that the horror of your rent house, or the cog-dead crawling up from the river and sinking a boat, or even the madness that's afflicting my father are all…'
'So your father is going mad? We've been wondering.'
I folded my arms. Always politics. Always stories told or untold, and secrets held.
'Does it matter, really?'
'He holds one of the few Founder's seats remaining on the Council. Every one counts. If they lose him, they lose much of their ability to influence the Council. So, yes. It matters. Besides, he's your father. Shouldn't it matter at least to you?'
'This from the woman whose family was just killed en masse, and who doesn't seem to give a damn.'
'Jacob, we've covered this. I'm out of my fucking mind,' she said stiffly, then clenched her hands in her lap. 'Or I've spent my whole life learning to carry on in the face of tragedy, and doing whatever is necessary to advance the family. To put the strong face forward, no matter what. Which is its own sort of madness, isn't it?'
I stared her down. I honestly couldn't tell if she was finally opening up a little bit, or just being crazier. Strange girl. Strange family, what was left of it.
'What does the Church say about all this? If anyone's going to see a pattern in something, it's those old apopheniacs.'
'I think you made up that word,' she said. 'But I like it. The Church of the Algorithm has been quite silent on this one. None of the attacks have touched them, that we know of.'
'But they could have.'
'Of course. They lie as well as us. After all, they're hiding an angel in their basement, aren't they, Jacob?' She smiled at me. No one believed my stories from two years ago, especially not the industrialists. They could afford not to believe me. 'But we have agents. I think we would know.'
'Do you know the guy living in the Manor Tomb? Up in that old tower on the west side?'
She squinted at me, trying to make a decision. Secrets to tell, secrets to keep.
'That has something to do with the balance of power in the Council, Jacob. Are you sure you want to know about it?'
'I asked. I could knock you down and kick you until you tell me what I want to know, if you'd rather.'
'Not really to my taste,' she said, smiling wickedly. I decided right there and then that I never wanted to find out what was to this girl's taste. 'Fair enough. There has been a rumor circulating that the Patron Tomb is finally dying. And not just in the process of dying, but really, nearly dead. You know he's been on the Council since before the Church rose to power? Before the Artificers Guild was disbanded and its leaders strung up, even.'
'How could I possibly not know that, Lady Bright? I'm the son of a Founder, remember.'
'So easy to forget sometimes, what with your rough and tumble ways, Mr. Burn.' She looked down at her fingers, preened away some bit of dust from her nails. 'But yes. The Patron is dying. And that's what makes your father's condition so interesting. Because if the Patron dies, Burn becomes the premier Founder seat.'
'What does this have to do with the guy in the tower?' I asked.
'That's someone the family has brought in to sustain the old man's life,' she answered. 'Someone from outside the city. An expert. Of what, no one seems willing to say.'
I felt my heart sink. I began to suspect what kind of expert he was.
'Anyway,' she continued. 'There are two ways this plays out. First, the Patron dies. Per the terms of their contract, the Patron's death will move the Tomb Right of Name on to the Family Verde, who bought it from him all those generations ago. And the Tombs are out of the Council.'
'Seems like Angela would do everything she could to prevent that.'
'Yes. Unless…' she held up a second finger.
'Unless?' I prompted.
'Unless the Family Burn is declared incapable of performing their duties. Say, if it was shown that their seat was held by a madman, with no declared heir. Angela has positioned herself to be declared the ward of that seat, in perpetuity. The Tombs would maintain their position in the Council.'
'And if the son were reinstated?' I asked, the barest quaver in my voice. 'What then?'
'The son?' she asked. 'You mean the criminal, the murderer, the thug who takes rides with dangerous girls, who is wanted for conspiracy and theft and, oh, a thousand other things? That son?'
'I see your point.'
'Maybe. But that son would still have a legal right to the seat. If he were reinstated, of course.' Her eyes glittered and she leaned closer to me. 'And he didn't get himself killed in the process.'
'I really can't tell if you're threatening me, or offering to help.'
She laughed. 'Such a blunt object, Mr. Burn. It's going to be a joy, watching you crash through the Council. Assuming you take up your father's letter and claim your right in the Massif.'
'How do you know about that?' I asked, sternly.
'Like I said. We have agents.'
'Sure. Your agents are everywhere, all seeing. That's why you know about the wall of dead cutting this city off from the rest of the world.'
'Wall of dead? You're being dramatic, Jacob.'
'Wall of dead. I was under the city, I saw them. There's an army of the cog-dead standing watch on the shores of the Reine, keeping even clever boys like me inside today. Tell me,' I looked back out the window, at the looming hulk of the Chamber Massif. 'Is that part of your Council-ordained curfew?'
'It is not,' she said carefully.
'So. Maybe you don't have all the cards.'
'Maybe.' She unfolded the gloves one last time, then pulled them on her thin fingers. 'But I have you.'
We were getting very close to the Chamber, now. I shifted nervously in my seat.
