I’d read about Jiang’s operas. “They also elevated one leader and his ideas to the exclusion of anything or anyone else. So, it sounds like you’re pushing an all-art-for-the-Shiguan cause, after all.”
“The Shiguan cause,” said Brach, “is the cause of London—the preservation of what she was and the establishment of what she should be. We’ve simply realized that we can only accomplish this by revolutionary means. No different, say, thanWagner ordering grenades for the Dresden uprising against the king of Saxony, except thatmusicwill be our weapon.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think you get what Wagner was fighting for.” “Enlighten me,” said Brach.
“He shows us in theRingthat there are two competing powers: one requires the renunciation of love—reducing free people to slaves; the other is freedom and loveforpeople.”
“You leave out,” said Brach with a smile, “that his notion of love was sacrifice. By that measure, we are all of us in the Strata Wagnerian.”
“You won’t convince everyone,” Lady argued. “Some will resist.” “Well, of course they will,” said Brach, “ just as they do here in the
Strata. But in the world above, we’ll have the advantage of people not knowing what we are. And we will install ourselves so quickly that dealing with naysayers will become a simple matter of persuasion.”
“Camps?” I said.
“Let’s call it reeducation,” said Brach, “to bring the people around to the right way of thinking about London, her past and her future.”
This guy was truly nuts, but I didn’t really want to offend him in front of several thousand brainwashed Shiguan who were already riled up. “You’ve tried to kill me, abduct me, buy me off, and now again you’re trying to recruit me? So, yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
“Then your coming here was a ruse,” Brach observed.
“Sort of. The reason we’re here is to inform you that you’re under formal investigation for the assassination of Henry Wilkinson, the seizure of his soul, and the summoning of a mature wraith.”
“All Precedent crimes,” Lakshmi added.
Brach gawked at me for a moment. Then laughed. “Have you any proof of these allegations?”
“I know Henry’s soul hasn’t moved on,” I said. “And I know a bound, mature wraith has been hunting people topside. Drawing a soul from the Meadows or binding a mature wraith would require Cython arcana, wouldn’t it? And you have some of that, don’t you?”
“This is your evidence?” Brach asked. “Untenable accusations?”
I took a step closer. “This wraith seems only to be killing songwriters. An appetite you obviously share.” I tilted my head at Professor Byrd, who was still playing the same unearthly music Brach had just performed.
Brach shrugged.“Your ward is dying, Jack.When she does, I’ll have her song.” It hit me like a sucker punch.Thiswas the ancient song he was after.
Brach already had music that could make thousands of vestiges stand to order. If he got hold of “The Lays of Resolve” . . .
“From what I’ve heard,” I finally managed, “the Ward’s song is an appeal to standagainstguys like you.”
“Her song,” said Brach, “fortifies against that irrational part of the soul that pursues pleasure and flees pain, and does so from sheer narcissism. In other words, Mr. Solomon, we will turn each human’s propensity to make an irrational individual choice into the courage to belong to our collective choice.”
“Compulsory, you mean.” I hated him more by the moment. “You’re going to weaponize her song to launch your war with the world above.” “Oh, Jack”—Brach shook his head—“the war has already begun. Your world is erasing our future and has left us no choice but to fight back.
The song will merely hasten our plans and give our musical techniques the lasting impact they require and deserve.”
Brach’s war would begin with music, but it would grow to influence the other arts, then education, then policy, then law.
“You’ll make people believe they’vechosentheir allegiance.” I shook my head. “I won’t let it happen.”
“Won’t?” said Brach.
Emaline turned from watching the vestiges on the plaza. “Are you saying, Mr. Solomon, that you intend to raise these accusations at your trial this evening?”
If I lived that long. “You can count on it.”
Brach’s smile returned. He took up his lantern and a bow from his hip and played a rich note. I immediately recognized the red and amber glow of his bowstrings—Orcus thread. He’d just called his mature wraith. I’d have bet anything on it.
As Brach’s lamp dimmed and his bowstrings darkened, the door behind us opened. Mick stepped onto the portico, with Cassius, Church, and Chuey in tow. They were escorted by several Shiguan guards.
