“Which is why you’ll also be supplying evidence.” “How do I know this isn’t a setup?”
“Because of the evidence I’m going to provide you.” She handed me a small, braided bracelet. “This is a binding from one of Master Brach’s vestiges. The first shape is the mark of the Shiguan.” It was the invertedYI’d seen on the Ren-faire thugs. “The tobacco leaf is Brach’s thanatist mark. These cannot be counterfeited. The chain emblem is a compulsion sigil, which is necessary when a thanatist binds a vestige to commit a crime against the soul.”
“Like trying to murder a friend.” “Precisely.”
I examined the binding. “How do these help?”
“They’re a visual guide to help you identify the body of the assassin.” “The body?”
“The assassin’s body will turn up tomorrow. I’ve seen to that.” She took another drag on her cigarillo. “Its absence has Master Brach worried, since a compulsion to murder leaves a scar that carries a marker unique to both the victim and the assassin.”
“What’s the marker?”
“I don’t know. But when you look into the shadow of the assassin’s body, it will be evident. Unhealed.” She let out smoke. “Normally, a vestige assassin is discorporated after the murder and the body destroyed, to eliminate all evidence. So, Brach will be looking for the body, too.”
I stuffed the bracelet in my pocket. “Where will I find it?”
“You’ll know tomorrow,” she said. “I need to make sure he doesn’t know I’m part of this first.”
“What about you and the rest of the Shiguan? No designs on the Iron Horse?” I remembered Henry’s journal—Shiguan archives—and stopped myself. “Actually, let’s go one better. I need something fromyou.”
“But helping me isalreadyhelping you,” she said.
“I do want justice, and I damn sure want to stop this revolution, especially if it’s going to use music to manipulate people. But the Iron Horse ward is failing either way. I need to figure out how to renew it—how to bind a mature wraith to the place. If I help you with Brach, you help me with the ward.”
She smiled, and it was sexy as hell. “Quid pro quo. Jack, I do respect the Iron Horse and its freedoms. And I’ve always been a fan of one effort producing two results. What do you need?”
“I need to learn how to establish a spiritual ward,” I told her. “Henry thought Brach might have something he called Cython texts that could help. Can you take a look?”
Emaline glanced down at the dolls again. “Brach has long been obsessed with the work the Cythons were doing.”
“They’re a destroyed schism, right? I read that they were—” “Jack?” It was Cassius.
“One minute. I think we’re about done,” I told him, then continued. “I read that all the Cythons were killed.”
“That’s the official story. They were trying to summon a particularly mature Strataform, probably a wraith, and bind it to their will—it must have possessed something they desperately wanted. That’s dangerous work all by itself, not to mention a violation of Precedent Law. The Convocation had no choice but to anathematize them.”
I remembered that word from the big Precedent book for sure. It meant that the protection of Precedent Law was withdrawn. In that state, a person or group could be hunted and killed, and there was no penalty for the killer. It was a kind of immunity or sanction for murder.
“So, what’s theunofficial story about the Cythons?”
“There are rumors that many survived and went into hiding, began planning their return. But such rumors always arise after a schism is anathematized.”
“Well, we might have a head start on renewing the ward.” I explained about the wraith called up by my rebirth, how it had killed Angela and was hunting me.
“That’s lovely,” she said. “What I mean is, it compounds Brach’s crime of assassination. The Convocation is duty-bound to punish whoever is ultimately responsible for the summoning of a wraith.”
“Lovely.”
“Brach did seize the Cython arcana when they were anathematized. I’ll see what I can find. It won’t be easy, but it’s a fair exchange.” She smiled. “For my part, Jack, I want very much to see Brach boxed.”
“Boxed?”
“A form of banishment. Thanaturgic abilities are nullified when a thanatist is confined to an iron box. It’s torturous, let me assure you.”
“Something you know from personal experience?” I asked.
Emaline’s smile soured. “We can all find some grace in captivity, can’t we? Even if it means turning that captivity into our captor’s suffering. But you do understand the pact we’re making is a mortal one, don’t you, Jack? We succeed or we die.”
