“Not the victors, Jack, the living. And when the authentic stories of those who reside in the Strata are corrupted, recast, or forgotten, the semblances that gave them life start to fade, forgotten even to themselves. And their chance to move on to the next life fades with them.”
Now I understood. “And because the Strata is formed of your collective memories, the Strata itself contracts. Then everyone’s future is put at risk.” I looked over my shoulder and saw that Cassius was checking out some of the armor displays with Emaline’s attendant. “What does Henry have to do with any of this?”
“Brach is impatient to start his revolution, but for all his preparations and planning, he doesn’t have the numbers to take London.”
I closed my book and put it back in my pocket. “So, he thinks if he gets the Steps, it’ll help him get the numbers to take London down?”
“He needs an army, yes, but not to destroy London—to change it. And that change, as I’ve said, will begin with music. Brach’s music will lead to a kind of enslavement that requiresno binding—control of the narratives that underlie how people think and behave.”
“So, it’s about converting people to his side.”
“I might call it coercion. He believes there’s an ancient song that will catalyze his revolution. A song so primal that it was composed centuries before the first mud huts were raised. Brach wants its power, but he needs access to the Abyssal Steps so he can get to the Ancient Stratum and find it.”
“That’s why he’s doing this now,” I said, “because the ward is dying.”
She nodded. “And if he gets this song, I don’t see how he can execute his plan without an immense loss of life.”
I recalled the revolutions I’d studied. “He may start by replacing musicians, but that would expand to other artists, then historians, politicians, anyone who shapes public opinion.”
“And going forward,” she added, “those professions would evangelize only his vision of what London should be.”
“Everyone falls in line,” I whispered. “And any dissenters—” “Brach doesn’t tolerate dissent.”
“So, what’s the job, then?” I’d been nearly killed again three times in twenty-four hours. “You can’t possibly think I can stand against him.”
“Of course not. I want you to help me prove Brach was responsible for the shootings.”
“How does that help?”
She smiled patiently. “For all the latitude afforded the thanaturgic communities above and below, Precedent Law on violence against a thanatist is absolute. The Convocation and Chancery must enforce it.”
“So, we prove Brach had Henry shot, and the revolution goes away with him? Why don’t you just do it yourself?”
“I’m too closely watched.” She tapped her ashes on the floor again. I wondered whether that was uncouth in the Strata butdidn’t mention it. “Besides,” she continued, “if I was found betraying the Shiguan, I’d be put to death, and I must have an eye toward life after Brach.”
Our meeting outside the Iron Horse came to mind. “You’ve been casing me. You had an idea I might . . .”
Emaline tilted her head. The simple movement brought her hazel eyes directly into the light, and I lost my train of thought. “I did my diligence, if that’s what you mean, Jack. You were Mr. Wilkinson’s right hand. His urn-bearer, one might say. It stands to reason he’d groom a successor.” She put the cigarillo delicately between her lips and inhaled again. “Mr. Brach, however, had no inclination you might return. Now that you have, he’s eager to have your allegiance.”
“Eager enough to send some vestige thugs to abduct me?”
She nodded. “He’ll try to turn you, make you a Shiguan. If not, he’ll convene the Convocation and accuse you of killing Mr. Wilkinson. With you under a cloud of suspicion, he’ll try to wrestle control of the Iron Horse.”
“So, the thanatist in the tricorn hat, who tried to snatch me. She works for Brach?”
“She must. Though, it’s unlikely he’d send a Shiguan to abduct you—too unseemly for his taste. I’m guessing he hired it out to a freebooter.”
I’d read about freebooters. “A mercenary.”
“And Brach’s favorite tool for his dirty work. No doubt he wanted at least the appearance of clean hands on this one.”
I definitely wanted to help her stop Brach’s revolution, but I needed to do what I could to extend the Iron Horse ward, at least until we found Henry. And time was running out.
“Brach won’t rest.” She took a half step closer to me. “Besides, don’t youwantto hold him responsible? For Henry? For yourself?”
Her jaw was beautifully strong, and her cheeks held the slightest of dimples.
“So, what, you want me to show up and testify that he shot us?” I asked. “Even topside courts are skeptical of eyewitness accounts.”
