Page 43 of The Song Rising

“This is the Fleet’s outfall chamber,” Wynn said. “And Paige, this is Styx, the toshers’ elected king. Styx, I give you Paige Mahoney, Underqueen of the Scion Citadel of London.”

We regarded each other. He didn’t look much like a king, but then, a nineteen-year-old with a pinched face probably wasn’t most people’s idea of a queen.

“Wynn tells me that you wish to move the clairvoyant syndicate into the Beneath,” he said throatily. “I see no reason why I should grant this request. If not for Wynn, I wouldn’t even be considering it.”

I glanced toward Wynn. All she did was raise her eyebrows.

“Because there are soldiers in our citadel. And if you don’t,” I said, “my voyants’ blood will be on its streets today.”

“I wouldn’t mourn. Your syndicate has long been a festering wound on the face of London,” he said, “almost since the first Underlord died. And it seems to me that you have brought martial law upon yourselves.”

Nick opened his mouth to protest, but I stood on his foot.

“I promised Wynn anything for opening the Neckinger, but I cannot allow you to enter our network if I fear my people may be harmed by yours,” Styx said. “Syndies have never been kind to those of my profession, even when we co-existed. Yet the water-folk were here long before your syndicate. Mudlarks combed the Thames in the days of Queen Victoria. Toshers crawled beneath the streets before London knew the wordunnaturalness. You’re the youngest criminals in this citadel, yet you brutalized us.”

“And I don’t expect you to forgive us for it,” I said. “I can only swear to you that it will not happen again on my watch. We’d be indebted to you. We don’t know how to navigate the Beneath.”

“No. And it is deadly without a guide.” Styx leaned on his spear. “I’m inclined to believe you, knowing you released the vile augurs. Our friends. There are many sorts of outcasts in the Beneath . . . but the risks to us are great.”

“It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement,” I said. “I only need asylum for my voyants for as long as it takes me to damage ScionIDE.”

“And you have a plan to do that?” He sounded skeptical, as well he might.

“Yes.”

It was almost true. I had the pieces of a plan, even if I had yet to slot them together.

“Styx,” I said, wading closer, “I don’t have time to argue or bargain with you. Every minute we spend debating brings ScionIDE closer.” My voice shook with the effort of staying calm. “I need to get my voyants to safety—not tomorrow, but now. Today. I’m asking you, one outcast to another, to let my people into the Beneath, so they won’t have to face what’s above. There are good people among them for every one that’s done wrong. If money’s what you want—”

“I’ve no use for money. We make enough from the blessings of Old Father Thames.”

“What can I offer you, then?”

“A life.”

I frowned. Sunken eyes stared back at me.

“A mudlark was slain by syndies in 1977. Cruelly slain, and tortured before. We require a life for the one that was stolen.”

“You want to execute one of mine for a crime committed almost a century ago?” Despite my efforts, my voice cracked. “You’re not serious.”

For the first time, Styx grinned, showing rotten teeth. “Much as I’d be curious to see if you would make that sacrifice,” he said, “I’m not as much of a tyrant as some of your leaders. No, we claim one syndie as a resident of the Beneath.”

“To do what?”

“That’s my business.”

Whatever it involved, it would be a life of darkness. A life in the filth of the underground tunnels. One person condemned to that.

One life to save many.

“Agreed,” I said, softly. “You have one of mine, and you let all of my voyants into the Beneath, until the streets are safe again.”

The toshers’ king took a long knife from his pocket and held out a hand. Slowly, I offered mine. He sliced open my palm, then lowered both our hands into the brownish water. The cut stung ferociously. Rough skin pressed mine, squeezing my blood into the Fleet.

“The river witnesses this settlement,” Styx said. “This day, after many days, our communities are reunited. Should you go back on your word, or should your people do any injury to mine during their time here, we will drive you out, whether the anchor will hurt you or not.”

“Understood.”

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