Page 34 of The Song Rising

He frowned a little as he smiled. “For what, Underqueen?”

I kissed him lightly on the cheek. “For putting your knife through a man’s neck for me.”

“We call the Swan Knight, mime-queen of IV-4. What matter do you wish to bring before the Underqueen?”

We were only halfway through the audience and requests from the syndicate were coming thick and fast. The voyants parted to let the Swan Knight through. She had been soundly thrashed by a berserker named Redcap during the scrimmage, and used a cane to approach the dais. Her request was for money, for repairs to a damaged building in her section.

I was seated between Glym and Wynn, listening. A film of sweat covered my collarbones. I had promised to grant this audience, but I was desperate to be back on the streets, gathering information. I needed to know if the report was true. And I needed to see Danica. She was still our best and only link to Senshield, and we couldn’t stop looking for the core.

A soothsayer came forward and pleaded for food. Wynn promised that the Pearl Queen would help her. Another petitioner asked me if his cell could be relocated, as there was a new scanner in his area and they didn’t like having to get so close to it every day.

“I know I’m a sensor, not at risk,” he said, making me tense, “but I can’t stand walking past it. We all hate it. The lower orders can’t even go out.”

I said I would consider moving the cell to a neighboring district. Others asked if I could do the same for theirs.

I imagined how much worse it would get if the fourth order really could be detected.

The final person to come forward was Halfpenny, mime-lord of II-5. Like the Swan Knight and Jack Hickathrift, he had been the mollisher of a gray marketeer and had come to power when his superior had died in the Rose Ring. He was heavily tattooed, with eyebrows he dyed marigold. We had exchanged a handful of words in the past.

“Underqueen. The Glym Lord came to one of my cells last night and asked for volunteers for an assignment—an assignment in which you were involved,” he said. “One summoner went with him. I wish to know where he is now.”

Glym glanced at me.

“I’m afraid he won’t be coming back. I’m sorry,” I said. “He was killed by paratroopers.”

Whispers.Paratroopers. A military word, not one that had been heard often in this citadel.

Halfpenny folded his fleshy arms. “What happened?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he said with an air of real disappointment, “You said you’d be different from Hector. We shouldn’t have secrets here. I want to know exactly what you did.”

This was the first time anyone had challenged me in public. He had the right to do it, but I bridled. “I can’t reveal the nature of all of our assignments, Halfpenny. We’re moving against an empire, a militarized empire. If anyone were to betray our plans—”

“First you let the Jacobite walk free,” he continued, to resentful muttering from the audience, “and now you’ve baited them into attacking us, at a time when we’re already under serious threat from Senshield. Why were there paratroopers in the capital, if not because of you?”

“Listen to this. You’d think the Underqueen was on trial,” Wynn cut in. “She doesn’t have to justify herself to you. You were happy enough to do as Haymarket Hector demanded without question, but now Paige is Underqueen, you whimper and whine. Take your disrespect elsewhere.”

At this, several voyants began to murmur agreements. Others, however, were clearly ruffled by the sight of a vile augur speaking with impunity at the side of the Underqueen.

“I did my best to change things under Hector,” was all Halfpenny said. “In my section, at least.”

Wynn snorted.

“Binder wouldn’t have risked our lives,” someone called from the corner. “And you betrayed him. Who’s to say you won’t turn your back on us, too?”

Silence ruled in the basement of the Mill, broken only by a gasp. I waited several moments before rising from my seat.

“This syndicate,” I said, “is a monarchy. Its leaders’ power is passed not from parents to children, but between Underlords and Underqueens. Ours is an authority based not on the blood of our families, but the blood we spill on the ashes in the Rose Ring. That blood is our promise. It was my promise that with my crown, I would only ever do what I thought was best for my people—and I promise you now that I would shed blood again for any of you. And I expect to, before this is over.” I paused. “This audience is finished.”

My nape was burning as I left the basement. Halfpenny had been reasonable enough, considering I’d broken his nose during the scrimmage.

The other high commanders—except for Minty, who was at Grub Street—were waiting for me in the surveillance room. I could tell from their faces that they had news for me. Quietly, I locked the door behind Wynn and took my seat, trying to tamp down the rising consternation.

“Paige,” Maria said, “it seems the report was accurate.”

Those few words punctured what was left of my confidence.

“How do you know?” I said.

Tom sighed. “A whisperer was taken this morning. I knew him. His aura was yellower than a lemon.”

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