Page 51 of The Song Rising

Tom took it from her, digested it.

“I know it’s not good news,” I said as they passed the note around, their faces turning grimmer as they read, “but it does give us a new lead on Senshield.” I raised my chin. “I’m going to Manchester. If that’s where portable scanners are being manufactured, we might be able to find out how and where they’re being linked to Senshield, and that, in turn, could lead us to the core. It’s a chance, at any rate.”

Eliza shook her head. “You want toleave? Now?”

“That would be unprecedented,” Glym said. “No syndicate leader has ever left the citadel. It may not be a popular move—”

“I didn’t become Underqueen to be popular. Tom, Maria, will you come with me?”

Tom beamed. “I’m with you, Underqueen.”

“Absolutely,” Maria said.

It was risky to take two commanders away, but I sensed their skills would be the most useful. Tom was a powerful voyant and had knowledge of the country beyond London, while Maria had experience as an insurgent, as well as the sort of relentless energy we needed for this journey.

“Good. And Glym,” I said, “will you be interim Underlord?”

There was an odd silence. Glym blinked, but dipped his head. “You do me a great honor, Underqueen.”

Glym was loyal and well-respected, had years of experience as a leader in the syndicate, and didn’t take any nonsense from the Assembly. “Your priority is to preserve life while we’re gone,” I said. “Get as many voyants into this facility as you can. Get the pumps and ventilation working. Send the higher orders to retrieve food and drink for the lower. Keep the peace. Above all, make sure this place isn’t compromised.”

Warden had watched our discussion in silence.

“What did you want to say?” I asked him quietly.

He looked between my commanders.

“The Mime Order is an alliance between our two factions,” he said. “You have all contributed your skills and knowledge to its continuation. Now, we wish to give something in return.”

“Oh, at last,” Maria said.

Warden gave her a sidelong glance before continuing. “With Senshield now able to detect four of seven orders, all clairvoyants in this country, whether they yet know it or not, are in an extremely precarious position. If ever the time was ripe to sway them to our cause, it is now. It would be advantageous to alert them to the situation in the capital and urge them to join the revolution.”

“And how do you propose we do that,” said Maria, “given Scion’s famous tolerance for freedom of information?”

Tom snorted.

“I suggest,” Warden said, undeterred, “that we send a message through the æther—one that would reach many voyants at once—encouraging them to assist the Mime Order in its fight against Scion.” There was silence from us all. “I take it you have all attended a séance at some point in your careers.”

Nods. I had been part of a few séances during my time as Jaxon’s mollisher. They were group summonings of spirits, requiring the presence of at least three voyants.

“Well-conducted séances can amplify clairvoyant gifts. I propose that we hold one here. First,” Warden said, “I would draw memories from any willing ScionIDE survivors, which will illustrate the threat they pose. Paige will enter my dreamscape and experience them with me. Immediately after, she will jump into a willing oracle.”

“Okay,” Nick said, frowning.

“This stage is theoretical, but I believe that Paige should be able to transfer the memories from my dreamscape to the oracle’s, allowing them to be projected into the æther. The longer we can sustain the séance, the farther the message will travel. We will need most, or preferably all, of the Unnatural Assembly for it to travel far and wide.”

Maria folded her arms. “Sounds great. Why haven’t we been doing this all along?”

“You did not have a Rephaite with you,” Warden said. “Now, who here has had dealings with ScionIDE?”

Maria chuckled. “I’ll share. My memories are nice and gruesome.”

The room’s attention shifted toward Nick, who was hunched on a supply crate. He wet his lips. “My experience was . . . personal. I don’t know if I want it made public.”

“Take mine,” I said to Warden. “My memory of the Dublin Incursion.”

“You were too young,” Warden said. “Those memories may not be clear enough.”

---