Page 77 of The Song Rising

“I want you to help me break into one of the factories and steal information,” I said. “As a condition of your release, I also want you to stop intimidating the people of this citadel. In return, I’ll walk you out of this place. You can kiss goodbye to the gallows.”

Catrin pushed herself against the wall, looking as relaxed as anything, but her good eye was like an iron rivet. Somewhere beneath the scarring and the sneer, she must fear the noose.

“I’d heard Paige Mahoney was a dreamwalker,” she said. “And I doubt there’s more than one.”

“There isn’t.”

“Hm. You must really need a hand if you’ve come to me, and not my big, bad sister,” she said. “On second thoughts, I bet you did ask for her help, and she turfed you out on your arse.” She inspected her nails. “Even if I agree to your demands, you’ve no guarantee I’ll keep my word. You don’t know what I’ll do when I get out of this hellhole. Must be terrifying for you, dreamwalker. Not being able to control everyone, everywhere.”

“You don’t know what I can control,” I said. “You don’t know where or when I could reach you.”

Her chuckle sent a chill through me. She picked at the laces of her prison-issue boots.

“This offer has a time limit, Attard,” I said.

She lay on her back again. “Does it?”

“Yes. So does your life.”

That gave her pause. All that awaited her here was the gallows.

“I’ll help you get into a factory,” she said finally. “And, seeing as you’ll be sparing me the noose, I might find it in my heart to cut my little protection tax and leave those brogues alone. But if there’s one thing we Scuttlers must have,” she purred, “it’s vengeance. I warn you that if you release me, there will be some trouble between me and Roberta.”

“Why?”

“I saw her standing there when I was arrested,watching. I shouted for help and she turned her back, knowing what I’d get for treason. Maybe it’s time I showed this citadel that Daddy made the wrong choice.”

“You have issues, Attard.”

“And you don’t?”

I had to smile at that.

Catrin Attard stood. “So,” she said silkily, “if I promise to be very, very good, how do you plan to get me out of here?”

“Just do exactly what I say.”

13

The Ironmaster

Spinningfields Prison may have been cleverly designed, but it didn’t have half the staff it needed. I escorted Catrin out while the other guards’ backs were turned, delivering her into the custody of Maria and Tom, who were waiting near the entrance. They would ensure she didn’t seize her freedom without carrying out her side of the bargain. Catrin put on the coat Maria handed her and told them to take her to somewhere called the Barton Arcade. Eliza and I would follow in a different car.

I dropped my host outside the prison and returned to my own body.

I was getting better at this.

The Barton Arcade was a nineteenth-century structure on a main road, elegantly made from cast iron, white stone and glass, like an old-fashioned conservatory. At least, the stone might once have been white, and the glass might once have shone, had their beauty not been buried under decades of industrial filth. Several of the panes were cracked or defaced with graffiti, while dead wisteria climbed up one of its two domes, strangling its metal skeleton.

Catrin Attard was waiting for us beside the door, watched by Maria.

“The famous Paige Mahoney.” She sounded winded. “Not quite as menacing as you seem on the screens, are you?”

“I’m on a tight schedule here, Attard,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if we cut the bullshit.”

Most of her face was covered by a mask, but I heard the smirk when she said, “And who’s this?”

Eliza’s face was hard. “Her second-in-command.”

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