Chapter Fourteen
There were crows.
We made the trip from the Manor Tomb to the square outside the Council chambers with little effort. I expected patrols of Badge officers on every street corner enforcing the curfew, but the streets were abandoned. Something else was keeping folks inside their houses today. The storm played a part, I'm sure, but the air tasted like violence and fear. Given a choice, I'd be inside. But I was never given a choice, not really.
The Chamber Massif was one of the older buildings in Veridon. Originally constructed as a great hall, intended to provide for the mutual defense of all the families of Veridon, it had evolved into a community center of sorts, and finally the heart of government. It showed its origins as a monument to war, though, in its facade. Strong stone and arrowslits looked down on the square below. Statues had been raised on either side of the wide gate, but they were merely ornaments on a house of war.
Appropriate, considering the battles that went on inside. There should be nothing beautiful about the Council, I thought. Nothing to disguise its nature. The Massif was a battleground.
More so than usual today, perhaps.
The courtyard and facade of the Massif were carpeted with crows. The inky black birds hopped and squawked across the cobbles, draping themselves over the statues by the gate, starting briefly into the air and swirling back down to the ground. It was loud and, given our recent encounter in the Manor Tomb, very unnerving.
'Never thought I'd be afraid of birds,' Wilson whispered to me. We stood at the edge of the square, looking across the sea of crows to the Massif's gate.
'Nothing to be scared of,' I said, loudly so I'd believe it. 'Crane's nothing but a coward with some clever tricks.'
'Yeah,' Wilson said, motioning toward the gate. 'So. After you.'
'Yeah. After me.'
I squared my shoulders and started walking slowly across the square. The crows fluttered out of my way, but did nothing to stop us. So far, so good.
'You figured out how he does his little trick yet?' I asked. Wilson was just behind me, a little to the left.
'What makes you think I can figure something like that out?'
'You're a clever guy. A curious guy. I'm sure you have your theories.' The crows seemed to be giving us more room. I wasn't sure if that was encouraging, or the first sign of a very complicated trap. 'So tell me. What's your theory?'
Wilson sighed over my shoulder. He was hunched forward, like he was stalking something.
'We don't know a lot about what the Artificers were truly capable of, in their heyday. Myths, mostly. The Church accused them of witchcraft, tampering with the bodies of the dead. Necromancy, they called it back then. Truth is, the Council at the time was concerned that the Guild was becoming too powerful, and used the Church's rabble-rousing as an excuse. An alliance of convenience. It's interesting, because before then the Church and the Council were often opposed to one another. Most Councilors worshiped the Celestes, didn't trust this new religion of garbagemuckers.'
'Fascinating stuff, Wilson,' I snapped, 'but is there anything you're going to say that might get us across this square and into the Massif? Because if so, maybe you should get to saying those things, rather than meditating on the lessons of the past.'
'You asked what I knew of the Artificers Guild. This is what I know. That the Church accused them of some pretty dreadful things, got the Council behind it, and between the two of them they were able to uproot one of the most powerful institutions in Veridon. Converted the Academy into a military school, clipped the Guild's powers, executed the leaders as heretics. And, apparently, declared a Rite of Purge on the Founding Family that supported the Guild.'
'Which brings us here.' I looked nervously around at the crows. Was Crane watching us through their eyes, just waiting for the moment to strike? Shivers ran down my arm. 'You know, I've shot this guy through the heart twice now. I'm used to that solving matters.'
'Bullets can't solve everything, Jacob. But yes, he might be a tricky one to pin down. Not sure how we're going to know that we've finally put an end to Mr. Crane, and not one of his possessions.'
'Seems the possessed ones fall apart,' I noted. Had a brief image of my father's face emerging from the collapsing body of Ezekiel Crane. Realized I had stopped walking when Wilson bumped into me. 'Sorry. Just making some plans for Crane.'
'You and me both,' he whispered.
We were halfway across the square now. I could see a pair of nervous guards at the gate, watching our progress. As long as they didn't start shooting, either at us or at the crows, I was pretty sure we were going to be okay. Unless Crane decided to wait until we were nearly there before he ordered his feathery minions to attack. He seemed to enjoy that kind of cruelty.
'If he really is broadcasting his consciousness, if that's how his possessions work, then it's just a matter of figuring out where he's broadcasting from and going there.' Wilson said. 'The crows are clearly acting in the same role as the maker beetles. I never thought about it, but I suppose you could use anything for the makers. We don't really know enough about the technology to say what it is that makes them special.'
'Apparently Crane does.'
'Apparently.'
'Is it just a matter of killing the crows?' I asked. Wilson shot me a nervous look and inched closer.
'Too many of them,' he whispered. 'How many do you have to kill, how many does it take to hold his consciousness? There's too much we don't know. And those pipes play some kind of role, too. Some kind of antenna.'
'What's an antenna?' I asked.
'Like a lightning rod, but for sound.' Wilson shrugged. 'I've never seen one, actually.'
'Another myth. We don't have much to go on here. We did manage to disrupt his signal for a while there, in the Manor Tomb.'
'Yeah. Maybe something to do with how violently the possession ended.' Wilson sheathed his knives and wiped his palms on his pants. I had to admit, I was sweating pretty good now, too. 'Might be that it caused him some kind of pain that he had to recover from.'
'I like the sound of that.' The guards were edging away from us. The crows were still parting along our way, but I got the feeling that they were closing the gap behind us. I turned around. Yeah, the whole damn flock was on our tail. 'Though maybe he doesn't.'
Wilson turned to see what I was looking at, and the color went from his face.
'Is it too late to just run?' he asked.
'Probably. And those boys aren't going to just open the door for us.' I raised my voice and waved to the guards. 'Hi there! Hello! Uh… they aren't with us.'
The two boys in guard uniforms were pale and getting paler with each step we took toward them. I held my hands up, then realized I was still holding the shotgun. Slung that over my shoulder, and gave Wilson a look. He swallowed nervously and sheathed his knives.
'We're just here to, uh. To talk to the Council. We're friends.'
They weren't buying it, and the crows behind us were crowding our heels. I started walking faster. That didn't seem to make the guards feel any better.
'You're sure we can't run?' Wilson hissed.
'Positive,' I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, then addressed the guards. 'Look, I'm Jacob Burn. My father is…' Dead, I thought. Lying face down in the basement of the Manor Tomb, surrounded by a horde of the mad, ravening dead. 'Alexander Burn. I'm here on his business.'
'We have orders to keep you two out,' one of them said, finally finding his voice. I stopped walking when he
