Page 79 of The Song Rising

“Fine,” I said. That smile crept back to her lips. “Attard, you follow my orders to the letter in there.”

“Oh, but of course, Underqueen.”

We planned the raid by moonlight in that derelict arcade.

Major Arcana had a contact who had been stationed at Establishment B for several weeks. At 6A.M., when the shifts changed, she would let our team through the gate and smuggle us into the factory via the kitchen.

“The next step will be locating the portable scanners,” I said. “There must be some sort of storage room, if we could find that.”

“Or the loading bay,” Tom said. “That would be our best bet—find out where they’re kept before being shipped.”

I nodded. “Stealth will be crucial. We need to be particularly careful that we don’t run into Emlyn Price.”

“Paige,” Maria said suddenly, “you dreamwalked inside. Were the workhands wearing respirators?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Then you can’t come in with us. A uniform isn’t going to hide your face.”

It was true. My presence would blow the whole operation. It was for selfish reasons that I wanted to go in: so I could feel like I was making a difference. I had led the charge into the warehouse for the same reason, which had given Scion their deadliest advantage in years. A leader worth her salt would learn from her mistakes.

“Fine,” I conceded. “We’ll compromise. I’ll come into the complex with you, but I won’t go into the factory itself. I’ll stay hidden near the door while you search for the scanners. In case you need support.”

“I’ll stay with you, Underqueen,” Tom said.

“I have to meet my associate,” Major Arcana cut in. “Meet me outside Establishment B at quarter to six.”

“Let’s hope my sweet sister doesn’t find out about this,” Catrin said, “or she’ll ruin our chances.”

“Let’s hope you don’t do that, either,” I said.

“We might disagree on how to run a citadel, Mahoney, but we agree on one thing.” She made for the door. “Senshield can do one.”

We spent our last, precious minutes making the infiltration team look as much like workhands as possible. Catrin and Maria already had short hair; we briefly debated shaving Eliza’s for authenticity—she blanched at the suggestion, but didn’t complain—eventually deciding against the razor. Plenty of workhands did risk keeping their hair, and it was unlikely to arouse suspicion. Instead, we dirtied it with grease and bound it at the base of her skull.

As we concealed our weapons, I told the team what little I knew about ethereal technology: that it could be identified by a strip of white light; that they might be able to sense it in the æther. Other than finding evidence of the core, their priority was to steal a portable scanner so we could examine it elsewhere.

Just before six, we met Major Arcana outside the massive brick wall that surrounded SciPLO Establishment B. Through the gate at the front—the only way in—I could see that the building was of the same design as others of its sort: black metal, hard angles, a few square windows on the second floor, and a door that had to be ten feet high. It was a bleak design, brutally utilitarian, constructed with no thought for beauty.

“My contact will be along shortly. She’s persuaded some other Vigiles who are supportive of our movement to leave their posts for a few minutes,” Arcana said. “They won’t come out on our side, but they’ll look the other way. I’ll be waiting in the van for when you need your getaway. Good luck.”

Catrin pulled him in for a rough kiss before he left. His form was swallowed by the smog.

We waited with our backs against the wall, out of sight of anyone inside. I tried to ignore the moil in my stomach. This time, I was certain we had come to the right place. Every whisper in this citadel had pointed me here.

Moments passed. I thought no one would come for us, that the contact had been apprehended—until someone pressed their finger to the scanner on the other side of the gate.

Our abetter was a slight, dark-skinned woman. Silently, she ushered us inside. Unlike street Vigiles, she wore no body armor and carried no firearm, though she did have the standard-issue helmet with a visor. Her only visible weapon was a truncheon. She led us out of sight of the main entrance and past a corrugated-metal door, keeping us close to the factory wall. At any moment, I expected to hear a shout or be blinded by a searchlight, but it was still dark enough to obscure our movements, and no one challenged us.

When we reached the entrance to the kitchen, the Vigile used her fingerprint again, unlocking it.

“Night shift is just ending,” she said, speaking for the first time. “Join the group that’s leaving the sleeping quarters for the day and blend in. I can give you twenty minutes before I’ll have to let you out again—after that I have to clock in to the sleeping quarters. Anyone who doesn’t get back on time will be trapped inside.”

Twenty minutes. That wasn’t nearly enough time for the team to search the whole place. It was frustrating that I had to stay hidden, but Maria was right. My face was too famous.

“Do you know where the portable scanners are stored?” I asked the Vigile.

“Afraid not. You’re on your own there.”

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