Page 6 of The Song Rising

“Warden,” I said. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed.”

I tried to appear as if I was observing the knife range, but I couldn’t concentrate. I was too aware of the eyes on us, of those who were regarding the Underqueen and their Rephaite instructor with open curiosity.

“That was very impressive,” I said frankly. “How did you teach Felix to use hydromancy that way?”

“We call itfusion. An advanced form of spirit combat for certain types of soothsayers and augurs. You saw the Wicked Lady use it during the scrimmage.” He watched as a medium allowed herself to be possessed. “Some voyants can learn to command certain spirits to carry their numen. The art can be used to manipulate fire, water, and smoke.”

This could give us a real advantage. Before the Ranthen had come along, soothsayers and augurs could only really use spooling against an opponent; it was part of why Jaxon thought them so weak.

“That one has been speaking against the vile augurs.” Warden nodded in the direction Trenary had left. “And, less openly, speaking in favor of Jaxon as the rightful leader of the Mime Order. Apparently he often quotes the more incendiary passages fromOn the Merits of Unnaturalness.”

“I’ll ask Leon to keep an eye on him. We can’t have anything leaked to Scion.”

“Very well.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Well,” I said, “I have business to attend to. Excuse me.”

I’d already taken a few steps toward the door when he said, “Did I do something to insult you, Paige?”

I stopped. “No. I’ve just been . . . preoccupied.”

My tone was too defensive. It was clear to both of us that something was wrong.

“Of course.” When I was silent, he said, softer, “The company you keep is yours to decide. But you may always speak to me, if you ever desire counsel. Or someone to listen.”

Suddenly I was aware of the hard line of his jaw, the caged flame in his eyes, the warmth I could feel from where I was standing. I was also aware of the tension in my back. The flutter in my stomach.

I knew why it was there. What was keeping me from opening up to him. It wasn’t anything he’d done. He had accepted me as the woman who had spent years working for Jaxon Hall without realizing who and what he was. Unlike the other Ranthen, he had treated me no differently. He had excused my ignorance.

It was the warning about him that Jaxon had given me. Words that still played on my mind. And I couldn’t tell him so; I couldn’t admit to him that Jaxon Hall, a serial liar, had poisoned my view of him. That Jaxon Hall had made me doubt that he was anything but a vessel for Terebell’s will.

“Thank you. I know.” Conscious of the interest we were attracting, I turned away. “I’ll see you soon.”

I spent the rest of the day taking stock of our supplies. As I left the Mill at dusk, Nick and Eliza were on their way in, looking for me. They had taken an urgent report from a mime-queen in II Cohort, who was convinced there was a Vigile squadron watching a phone box in her section.

“She says a few of her voyants have been to make calls. Half of them never come back,” Nick told me as we trudged through the snow. “When she tried it herself, she was fine, but she wants hirelings posted around it.”

“Didn’t we have something like this last week, with the medium who went into a pharmacy and was never seen again?” I said tersely.

“We did.”

“Did you go to the phone box yourself?”

“Yes. Nothing.”

I lowered my head against the wind. “Don’t waste any more time on it, then.”

“Right. Back to the den?”

I nodded. We had been out for too long today, and we needed to assess our finances.

We caught a rickshaw to the Limehouse Causeway and went on foot from there, keeping our heads down and our scarves over our faces. Partygoers were already out in force, high on Floxy and excitement, weaving past dockworkers from the Isle of Dogs. Oxygen bars were always busy in the run-up to Novembertide, especially the cheap ones that dominated this part of the citadel. Eliza stopped at a cash machine and covertly took out a pickpocketed bank card.

Stolen cards were useful, even if they only lasted as long as it took for their owners to realize they were missing. Terebell often refused my requests for money, something I was convinced she took pleasure in. Nick glanced over his shoulder, checking for observant passersby, as Eliza fed the card into the machine and tapped her foot.

---