I laughed. “Is that all?”
“I know you’re still acclimating to your change, Jack, but we could do with less sarcasm and more concrete ideas.”
Gangs back home were usually broken up by snitches with information from the inside. “We need someone with access to Brach. Someone who’s part of his plans but might be convinced to talk.” I thought a moment. “What about the woman who tried to abduct me?”
“The freeboot thanatist.”
“Exactly. If she’s a freebooter, then she has no real allegiance to Brach.
Would he trust her with information we could use?” Emaline was quiet a moment. “What did she look like?”
I described her tricornered hat and corset, and how she’d called me “my dear.”
Emaline thumped her hands on her lap. “Ordinarily, no, I don’t believe a contract freebooter would have useful information. But I know the woman you’re talking about. Brach uses her for discreet jobs. In this instance, because of her relationship with him, she just might know something useful.”
“She also snared the wraith that was chasing me. Caught it in an iron net. At least briefly. We could ask her why. Maybe she can tell us something more aboutit, too.”
Emaline nodded. “It’s worth a conversation. And you know I love when one effort produces two results.”
“Can you get me an address or meeting with her?”
“I’ll look into it. With any luck, I’ll have something for you this afternoon.” “Good. Now, you said you had some information for me?”
Emaline shifted on the couch. “I haven’t found any ward texts in Brach’s library yet, but I did learn that, in addition to a spiritual component, the ward ceremony requires a material component. When the Cythons attempted to summon a mature wraith to establish a ward of their own, a binding agent was necessary.”
“Not bunda thread?”
She shook her head. “Something called Orcus thread. It’s woven from strands of soul that trail a semblance’s arrival into the Endless Dark. Its bond is said to traverse space and time. Exceptionally hard to harvest and weave. And even then, not all thanatists can wield the thread. It’s written that Orcus can rejectits thread-binder, and its use requires a heavy toll. Just looking for it will make you suspect.”
I pulled out Henry’s field manual and flipped to the section on catalysts. “Nothing about Orcus thread, but it says catalysts can be found in markets in the Strata. Would I find Orcus at one of these?”
“Not likely. Orcus thread is illegal. The rookery at St. Giles would be a good place to start.”
I’d learned about rookeries in my library days back home—Victorian slums that covered several city streets, filled with housebreakers, pawnbrokers, streetwalkers, you name it.
“But, Jack, be careful.”
Her eyes were piercing, her nose straight and smooth, her lips full and red even without any lipstick. I wanted to kiss her again. Our last kiss had essentially sealed a mortal pact. It was really inappropriate, and entirely metal. And would probably get me killed. But she’d made good on her promises so far.
“I’ll take Cassius with me.” I placed my hand over hers on the old grimy couch. “By the way, your timing is impeccable. That bastard Swan might have killed me if you hadn’t shown up.”
She smiled. “You and I have mutual interests, Jack. So why would it surprise you that I’m keeping a close eye on things?”
I wanted to say something witty then, but being this close to her had put me off-balance.
She leaned in close enough that I caught the subtle lilac scent of her. This time, though, she gently brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and looked several moments into my eyes. Then, she stood, walked to the door, and paused there. “I look forward to getting to know you better.” With that, she disappeared through the door, leaving me alone in the greenroom.
I took a moment to breathe the lovely stale cigarette-smoke air and look over the photos on the wall, which got me thinkingabout Henry. He’d maintained the ward, the balance between the world and the Strata, all while providing a safe place for lost souls to come when their lives went to hell. I missed him more than I ever imagined I could. I meant to prove his trust in me.
I popped out into the venue, gathered my friends, and led them back into the greenroom, where I told them what I’d learned about the Strata Chancery trial summons.
Church frowned. “You do understand the seriousness of this, I assume, Jack.”
“I’m starting to.” Then I shared my idea that maybe this wraith that had been hunting me and other songwriters might serve as the mature wraith we needed to renew the ward.
“There’s still the primary half of the ward ritual to complete,” Church reminded me.
“I know,” I said. “The Ward doesn’t think I’m ready, and I can’t argue with that. But I’ve got togetready. And I only have two days. So, I’m going to stay at it, but you all need to know the risk in case I come up short.”
