I should have seen this coming. “I get it now. This is a recruiting visit.” “Ordinarily,” said Ankh, “we wouldn’t approach you simultaneously, but our respective groups agree that for a higher purpose, it is better you find any ally in this particular storm. And time is of the essence.” “Higher purpose?” I asked.
S.L.A.M. traced the brand on the back of his hand. “If revolution comes topside, bruv, it draws us all in. Everyone has to pick a side. And because schisms don’t see eye to eye, things would get real bloody real fast.”
“Suffice it to say, Mr. Solomon,” said Ankh, “that it’s just best if we squash everything at trial—your guilt, Brach’s revolution, all of it.”
I’d learned in Henry’s books that the Brotherhood were the presiding faction—directing Convocation, managing resources, and overseeing relationships with other cities. S.L.A.M. had taken over for the Cythons as the Convocation’s arcanum experts. Either would be a lot of help at trial. “What about the others?” I asked. “The Children of the Ashes. The
Dusk Parade. They not interested in stopping Brach?” “The Children keep to themselves,” said Ankh.
“And the Duskers,” S.L.A.M. added, “well, bruv, they’re a dodgy lot. They may come at you, but throwin’ in with ’em might be worse than going it alone.”
That I could believe, given what I’d seen of them at Rat’s Castle. But what was in this for the Brotherhood or S.L.A.M.?
“Any schism I join would place the Iron Horse under that schism’s control, wouldn’t it.”
The two shared a look and nodded.
“That’s what I thought.” Man, even now they were playing an angle. “Look, I figure Henry went it alone for a reason, and to tell you the truth, I’m not really sure who to trust. So, thanks for the offers, but I’ll take my chances at trial with my friends.”
“Ill-advised,” said Ankh.
“Stupid,” S.L.A.M. added, though his grin belied some approval.
I shrugged.“What can I tell you, I’m from the land of rugged individualism.” Ankh shook his head. “Be aware, Mr. Solomon, that things tend to escalate as trial approaches. Please be watchful. And should you have a change of heart, we won’t be hard to find.”
They each handed me a card. Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone, disappearing back into the kitchen and out, I figured, through the back door.
I took a moment to try and square this little visit with everything else I’d learned over the last few days, couldn’t really do so, then got back to digging around Henry’s apartment, when a knock came at the door. I walked over and opened it.
“Good morning, Jack.” Emaline was in cowboy boots, jeans, a military-style jacket, and dark sunglasses. Over her shoulder she carried a small satchel.
I resisted the impulse to give her a hug. “Come on in.”
She first extended a hand, but when I reached out, she shifted her fingers and gently took hold of my wrist. The same aching touch that I’d felt the night we met shivered up my arm.
“Good,” she said. “And you’re alone?” “Except for Cassius?—”
She turned to Margaretha, whom I hadn’t noticed standing in the alley, and nodded. Margaretha stepped up near the door, and the two discreetly clasped hands. I wouldn’t have noticed anything if I hadn’t looked at their shadows—Emaline’s pattern became Margaretha’s; Margaretha’s became Emaline’s. And Emaline’s shadow still had that strange doubling effect I couldn’t figure out.
Then Emaline sauntered past me into Henry’s flat. I shut the door, took her jacket, and hooked it on the wall rack next to Henry’s coat and old drumstick bag. We sat down in a couple of chairs around a coffee table near the fireplace.
“You were using Margaretha as a decoy.” I’d read about it in one of Henry’s books on vestiges. “A kind of vessel for your soul?”
“A gudgeon, yes. A necessary precaution, especially when traveling topside.” She settled herself. “How was your visit with Madam?”
“She didn’t know anything about the assassination or the wraith.” “And you believe her?” She set down her satchel and held up her cigarillo filter to ask whether she could smoke.
I nodded. “I’ll admit she’s a handful, but I got a chance to look into her shadow. I think she’s a bit of a prisoner herself.”
“Madam let youpeer?” She lit her cigarillo and took a long drag. “Peering is either an act of intimacy or an act of invasion—which was yours?” She showed me a suggestive grin.
The intimacy thing piqued my interest, but I explained my time with Madam in the theater and the fight with the wraith, leaving out my wound. I didn’t want to get into that.
“Andyou dismissed a wraith?” Emaline took another drag. “That’s rather remarkable, Jack.”
“I had a lot of help,” I told her. “The point is we’re back to square one.” “Because you overvalue your vestiges,” she said.
I leaned forward. “Meaning what?”
