“Mr. Jack Solomon,” said the man, coming to a stop in front of Church. “I have a proposition for you.”
I stepped between Chuey and Lady. “And you are?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I am Sir Joseph Swan.” When I didn’t say anything, he frowned and continued. “I gave the world electric light, Mr. Solomon. No doubt, you believe that honor belongs to Tom Edison. But that’s your modern education crediting the bastard for doing little more than stealing patents from my design.”
I knew a fair amount about Edison but couldn’t recall this joker’s name, so just nodded.
“Mr. Solomon,” he went on, “I’m here to offer one last chance for peace.” “That’s a bit different from the note you guys pinned with a knife to
the Iron Horse door,” I said.
“Not really. The point is that Mr. Brach has immense resources in both the thanaturgic world below and in the broader mortal world above. Case in point, the heavy metal band Life for Death, you’ve heard of them, I assume?”
“Yeah. Met their singer once.”
“You know, then, of their success. Six studio albums. International tours.” Swan took a half step closer. “They could bein need of a new vocalist, Mr. Solomon. Someone to write new material for their upcoming release.”
I’d seen Life for Death a couple of times at the Black Heart. They were pretty good, but their vocalist was a drug addict—I’d seen him using. I could almost picture myself fronting them. It would work—I knew it would—even if I had to wear eyeliner. But I wasn’t going to have anything handed to me. “No.”
Undeterred, Swan continued. “You’re destined for bigger things, Mr. Solomon. Leave thanaturgy and your little music venue behind you, then transfer the Iron Horse deed to the Shiguan. Mr. Wilkinson’s legacy will be properly cared for.” He leaned forward. “And before you answer again, ask yourself if this isn’t what you really want, anyway?”
“How would you know what I want?”
“Because, Mr. Solomon, you and I are not so different. My electric bulb replaced the danger and toxicity of gas lamps in grand theaters like the Savoy. I brought light to the arts and revolutionized the world of entertainment. It’s a fact as important and ignored as your musical gift.” I glanced at his lantern. This bastard had just burned up a semblance like it was so much fuel for his lamp. “Guys like you and me continue to create, you’re sayin’, even when no one pays attention. But I’m not sure I like the comparison.”
“Be that as it may, we are none of us in the Strata as idle or irrelevant as the world above might suppose. Which could likewise be said of you, Mr. Solomon, if you choose wisely.”
I sensed the offer was real. But it reminded me of what Sixth Angel Entertainment had done to me and the Hounds. “How about you go to hell.”
He raised a finger. “You might want to take a moment, Mr. Solomon. As with a coin, our offer has two sides. On the one side, there’s the career of which you’ve always dreamed. On the other,there’s the reach of the Shiguan to foreclose any future music opportunities you might have.”
“Excuse me?”
Swan chuckled. “I’ll wager that in your heart of hearts you hold out hope that once all this Strata unpleasantness is through, there’s some future for you with this dream of yours. What I’m telling you is that, if we do indeed ‘go to hell,’ as you’ve invited us to do, we’ll ensure that you go there with us. We’ll do this by preventing you from any record contracts, promotions, or meaningful performance opportunities. Your music, Mr. Solomon, so far as the topside world is concerned, will be dead.”
He was right. I’d thrown in on all this for Henry and my friends. I’d even signed the papers. And meant it all. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d assumed when it was all said and done, there’d be time for my music again. He was taking that away.
For several long moments I stood frozen, all my hopes crashing down inside me. Twenty years of my life might, in a moment, feel wasted. But then I looked at Chuey, and Cassius, and the others. Turning back to Swan, I said, “I’m not trading anyone’s future for my own. No deal.”
He shrugged. “You clearly have no real appreciation for the conflict to which you make yourself a party. Very well.” He pulled a sealed parchment from his jacket and held it cordially toward me. “Mr. Jack Solomon, you are hereby summoned to appear before the Strata Chancery.”
My mind flashed on the Shiguan prowling the ward barrier topside. Swan had known I was at the Horse, and had surely bet I’d come running once he attacked Tin Pan. I shared a look with Church and reluctantly took the summons from Swan’s hand. “You could have just brought this to me. No need to kill anyone.”
“You’re presuming that my visit here is only as a delivery boy.” He smiled. “In any event, the chancery will convene yourtrial for the murder of Henry Wilkinson in just three short days, at which time we will address the matter of your part in Mr. Wilkinson’s death, as well as the appropriate stewardship of the Iron Horse. In the meantime, Mr. Solomon, please understand that in the environsbeyondthe Iron Horse, neutrality is not the operative principle.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked.
Swan’s eyebrows arched. “Well,obviously. But then, it is also a statement of fact.”
Church stepped forward. “The Convocation of Schisms is usually the body that convenes trials on Precedent crime. Why’s the Strata Chancery doing so here?”
“I’ve no idea,” Swan replied.
Running a hand over his bald head, Church said, “Well, I’ll be representing Mr. Solomon in his challenge to these false accusations.”
Swan sniffed at Church, then looked at me again. “It can be quite intimidating, not to mention imperiling, to stand before the chancellors of all the ages past, Mr. Solomon. I encourage you to weigh your options carefully.”
I folded the summons into my pocket. “I’ll be there. Until then, stay the hell away from the Iron Horse.”
