Dead of Veridon (31 page)

Wilson came around the edge of my chair and cleared his throat. Being good aristocrats, and mistaking the anansi for my manservant, the other Councilors ignored him.

"It hardly matters now how you did it, young Burn. But I suppose that once this is all over we'll need to hunt the scoundrel down and give him a good thrashing." Nathan removed his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of a cloth that hung from his belt, apparently for precisely that purpose. "I suppose you'll want to lead that hunt, eh?"

"Jacob," Wilson said. Before I could turn to him, Plumer stepped forward.

"Oh, I would think the Badge should handle that. Though I suppose a formal hunting party, sort of a parade or something. I suppose we could approve that. Do you think, Nathan?"

"Jacob," Wilson hissed in my ear.

"In fact, I think we should make a day of it..." Nathan began.

"For gods' sake, Jacob!" Wilson grabbed me by the elbow and turned me around. There were gasps, at least one from me. Wilson was strong. "What if we didn't disrupt his control, as you said? We never did understand how that worked."

"We don't understand most of what he did, Wilson. Why?"

"What if he let us go? What if he held them at bay, just long enough to make it look good when we did get out? Enough to make our escape feel real."

"Why in hell would be do that?" I asked.

"So we could come here. So we could reveal his plan to the Council. So we could foil his little scheme."

"Well. That would be terribly clever of him, I must admit. That's exactly what he's accomplished. Look," I said, waving an arm around the Chamber. "Council's in session, no cog-dead ravaging through the hall, and we're not killing each other. Just as he planned."

"Jacob," he said. "The crows. They let us through."

"Maybe he... maybe he doesn't have as much control of those things as we thought?" Wilson just stared at me. "Maybe he didn't expect them to believe me, thought they would throw me out and go at each others' throats the second my ass hit the pavement. Maybe...."

I had nothing else. He was right. It didn't make sense.

"What is your man implying?" Plumer asked.

"I'm not his man," Wilson growled. "And I'm implying that we're still being played. We're holed up in here, and the Badge is patrolling your estates. The rest of the city is empty of authority. He could be anywhere, doing anything."

"Well," Nathan said, "that may be. But it sounds to me like we've got the important stuff covered."

"I'll be sure to relay your sympathies to the rest of the citizenry of Veridon," I spat. "He could be butchering the population and turning them into an army of the cog-dead."

The Council paled, except for Angela. She was pretty pale to begin with. And Veronica. She just sat there, thinking.

"What did Crane say to you?" she asked. "Specifically. You said before, but I need to hear it again."

"He said that he meant to strike at the heart of Veridon. To level the city, or something."

"The heart. Gentlemen, and Lady" - Veronica stood - "we are not the heart of Veridon. If you'll excuse me, I have a service to attend." And she exited.

"Never knew the Brights to be the religious type," Nathan said. "But, you know, in the face of fear. It's the natural reaction, I suppose."

"The Church," I said, and addressed myself to Angela. "What does the Church know of the attacks?"

"Nothing," she said. "We hid them from everyone. None of them affected the Church directly."

"None of the attacks that you know about," I countered. "If we can keep incidents hidden from them, surely they can do the same to us."

"Perhaps. But they're aware of the curfew. We sent a messenger, alerting them of the procedure and explaining its purpose."

"You heard back?" I asked.

"No, but we took their silence as tacit approval. They're rarely verbose, especially to the Council."

"I've heard enough." I stood and crossed to Angela's dais. Holding out my hands, I said, "Ma'am, I'm going to need my iron back."

She looked at me crossly, but handed the shotgun over. We left the chamber without further comment.

"Excitable lad, isn't he?" Nathan said as I left. "The Council will be an interesting place, with him voting."

"Perhaps," Plumer said. "As long as he remembers to vote, and not just rush off..."

I was most of the way to the door before I heard a mechanical clattering behind me. Angela was on my heels, and making good speed in the formal engine. She rumbled past me and turned to block my path.

"Jacob!" she yelled. "Don't go charging into anything just yet. You'll need help."

"I can't imagine what you're going to offer me, but I suspect I'm better off on my own. Thanks, though." I tried to push past her.

"Nonsense. You're very stubborn, but you're also very much just one guy with a shotgun. You think he's doing something at the Algorithm?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it? That cog, the Wrights even call it the heart. Or maybe he's after Camilla. It doesn't matter, though, does it? It was the Algorithm that got the Council to ban the Artificers. It was the Algorithm that replaced the Guild as the driving force of technology in Veridon." I snapped my fingers and pointed to Wilson. "In the Manor Tomb, when we were rushing upstairs. All the technology had turned into plants and stuff. Imagine what would happen if he did something like that in the Church."

"We'd all be worshiping trees, I get it. But you can't think you'll be able to stop him on your own. I've sent for the Badge officers who are protecting the Manor. If what you've said is true, there's nothing there for them to guard, anyway." She paused, then drew nearer. "Is it true? Is the Patron dead?"

"He looked awfully sick," I said, measuring my words. "And you left him in the care of a man who intended to kill him, and who had access to technology we don't even begin to understand. I can't imagine he survived."

"Actually," Wilson said, imposing himself on the conversation. "Crane said that he couldn't kill him. Just that what the Patron was becoming couldn't be called living, after a certain point."

"I'm not sure that's any better," Angela whispered.

"Listen. We'll get this sorted out. And you have my sympathy. But the last time I talked to him, the Patron didn't seem too happy with the state of things."

She didn't answer, just nodded and backed away. We went to the door.

"They'll meet you at the Church," she said. "It's not much, but it's all I can offer."

I smiled and went outside. "It's more than I expected," I said to no one in particular. Wilson pretended to not hear.

T
HE STREETS WERE
less empty than they had been earlier. Curious mothers and frightened fathers stood at the doors of their houses, looking up, or gathered at the cross-streets, talking quietly to neighbors. Many were armed. The city had the feel of a place under siege. Veridon's walls had always been the rivers, but it felt like the rivers themselves were attacking us. People knew what was going on, although they hadn't been told. Blood was in the air. Blood and fear.

More than one group hailed us as we passed. It was like they could sense the Council's authority on my shoulders. Usually, with the tattered condition of my clothes and my general miscreant's bearing, these people would either ignore me or shirk away. Today they called out, and asked what the Council was doing. What was going on. I didn't answer. Although I suppose rushing down the street, fully armed, with an equally well-armed anansi in my wake was its own answer. That we were clearly heading toward the Church of the Algorithm probably meant something to them, too.

Things changed once we got to Hallowsward, the district around the Algorithm. No one was standing in their doors, or gathering at the crosses. The windows were boarded up from the inside. There were a couple homes that had been barricaded at their front gates, the approaches guarded by men with guns. This was a richer district than most of Veridon. These people could afford guards. Something must have spooked them. Something more than a general sense of uneasiness. I approached one of the barricades, shotgun on my back, hands in the air.

"Hello up there! Jacob Burn, Councilor of Veridon! What news?"

I was met with silence. The men behind the barricade were scanning their rifles across the street, although the barrels spent more time lingering over me than I liked.

"I'm on Council business!" I yelled. "What have you seen?"

"All manner of things," one of them finally answered. "Would you be fetching the Badge, then?"

"Badge are occupied throughout the city," I lied. Well. I misdirected. Since they weren't actively shooting at me, I approached the barricade. "I'm here to assess the situation in this district, and do what I can to resolve matters. What can you tell me?"

The men were well-dressed. Butlers or horsemen, the type of servant expected to look good in front of the master. But they handled their rifles well enough. I only got so close before one of them poked his weapon in my direction. I stopped, hands still in the air.

"Could've used the Badge earlier. Not sure but you're too late. Noise has mostly gone away."

"What noise?" I asked.

He nodded down the street, in the direction of the Church.

"Awful sounds," he said. "Like metal tearing. Like an engine the size of a building. And crows like you wouldn't believe. Crows to block out the sky. We've been hunkered down ever since."

"Engine the size of a building," I repeated. "Thanks for your time, sir. Best of luck with your barricade."

Only one engine that big, and these men knew it. The Wrights of the Algorithm had been putting together an engine for the last several hundred years inside their church. Taken random bits of machinery and found cogwork that they had dredged up from the river Reine, assembling it according to some pattern that looked a lot like guesswork. To them, the pattern was god. It was a divine assembly, conjured from their souls and meshing with their hearts.

And from the sound of it, their god was suffering.

F
OR ONCE, THE
Badge beat us there. A squad of officers was huddled in the lee of a warehouse that overlooked the Church of the Algorithm. The Church itself hunched over the Ebd river like some complicated nautilus that had washed to shore and broken open. Water flowed through its many chambers, feeding or cooling boilers far beneath the surface. Domes bubbled out of the architecture, bristling with bell towers, and walkways led into the open courtyards between buildings. The Church grew every year, just as the mechanical algorithm that chewed through its corridors grew. New buildings were added, or even grown, at a breathtaking rate. And that was just the development that was plainly visible. The majority of the Church was submerged beneath the river. The waterline upriver of the Church rose and dropped with chaotic frequency, as the obstruction grew and new channels were opened to prevent flooding. I wondered if anyone in the Council knew the depth and breadth of this place.

Despite my fears, though, the Church of the Algorithm looked quiet. At least as quiet as it ever did. The engines of god were rumbling, the chimneys spewed steam into the air. The boilers boiled. Nothing about that swirling cancer of architecture looked any different from what I was used to seeing. Wilson and I finished our descent to the river and went to talk to the Badgemen who had been sent to assist us. There was an old friend among them.

"Curious Mr. Matthew," I said, smiling. "Matthew the Joker. I don't think it's any coincidence that Lady Tomb sent you to help us out, do you?"

"I volunteered for the duty," he said. This was the man who had questioned me after the factory fire. I didn't see him as an ordinary beat cop. The crash gear he wore looked custom-fitted, though, so maybe he liked to play brutal boy every once in a while. "When it was obvious that the Council Families were dividing our forces and keeping us away from the Church, I made sure I was on the team that went to the Tombs. And when we saw what we saw there, I made sure I got put on the team that came down here."

"What exactly did you see there?" I asked.

"Don't be cute, Burn." He turned from me and addressed himself to the Church. "Going to be a hell of a nut to crack."

"Seriously, I want to know what you saw." I pulled him around and poked his chest. "I'm holding the Burn seat on the Council; answer my questions."

"You want to know, you read the report," he said. "And if you're really on the Council then I'm sure this conversation is over. We've got business here, with the Algorithm. That's as far as your authority with me lies, Burn."

"What the hell has gotten into everyone today?" I asked. "Okay, fine. You want to be a smart ass, I can understand that. What have you seen of the Church?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing different, at least. But we've got reports of a tremendous noise, and lots of blackbirds circling the building before diving in. Then nothing else."

"Crows," Wilson said. "Not blackbirds."

"Same thing, smart ass."

"It doesn't matter," I cut them off. "We have to assume that Crane is inside. I don't like that we haven't heard any fighting. The Wrights should have at least put up a struggle."