Page 54 of The Song Rising

“Pipe down, the lot of you, and listen to me,” I said sharply, speaking over the noise. “We have received reliable intelligence that a Senshield manufacturing hub is in Manchester. I intend to go there myself, along with Tom the Rhymer and Ognena Maria. We are hopeful that we will be able to gain crucial information with regard to the power source of Senshield. And when we find out what that power source is, I vow to you, we will destroy it.”

The reaction was immediate and livid.

“How do you expect to do that?”

“Ah, so that’s how it is! Scarpering at the first sign of trouble!”

“Craven!”

“Putting other citadels in danger, too, are we, brogue? Going to exposemorevoyants to Scion?”

And so on, until the Glass Duchess snapped, “Shut up and let the woman speak!”

Gradually, the commotion died down.

“This was always going to happen,” I said, fighting to keep my voice cool. “Hector denied it, and so did every leader before him, but now we know that the only way out of this is to resist. Scion has just used me as their excuse. They’ve usedusas their excuse, because they areafraidof us. They’ve been afraid of the power of the syndicate from the beginning, the potential for voyants to unite against them. That’s why Senshield exists. That’s why we’re here. If ScionIDE is allowed to remain, armed with the new, portable scanners, they will not rest until they have stamped out the voyant way of life. If we are to survive, wemustfight.” I pointed upward. “Up there, Scion is preparing to wage war against us. Let’s give them a taste of their own medicine.”

Something I’d said had reached them. A smattering of applause went through their ranks.

“You wish to declarewaron Scion? In this weather?” the Heathen Philosopher blustered, one eye magnified by his monocle. “The Unnatural Assembly is an administrative body that facilitates the felonious activity of worthy clairvoyants. Certainly not one with the capacity to declarewar.”

I was beginning to appreciate Hector’s restraint in not killing the whole lot of them.

“They declared war onus,” I said, my voice growing stronger, “the day they put their first voyant on the gallows. They declared war onusthe day they spilled the first blood on the Lychgate!” Cheers. “You are the clairvoyants of London, and I will not see you extinguished. We are going to reclaim our streets. We are going to seize our freedom. They made thieves of us—it is time to steal what’s ours!”

The words stemmed from a place in me I hadn’t known was there. More cheers, louder. Calls of support.

“You’ve got some cheek, brogue,” Slyboots sneered, and they died down. “None of us signed up to be soldiers.”

“I did,” Jimmy O’Goblin slurred.

“Jimmy, sober up or hush up,” I said. Jeers followed. Jimmy jeered along with them, then looked confused. “I know the odds are daunting, but we have the æther. We can fight our way back to the surface, because we have a means to do so. Clairvoyance—our gift. As the Ranthen have shown us, wecanuse it against amaurotics. It’s a matter of unlocking our potential. Of trusting the very source of knowledge that binds us together.

“If the White Binder had become Underlord, he would have made you into an army, too, but not one that fights for freedom. You would have been an army of messengers, spreading word of the anchor. You would have survived,” I said, “but at what cost?”

“Rubbish,” Slyboots shot back. “Binder would have found a way to make it work.”

“Mind your tongue, Slyboots,” I said curtly. “I know you helped the Silent Bell burn down the Juditheon—and if I remember correctly, your old mime-lord was one of those involved in the gray market. I hope you don’t share the same sentiments.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Glym clipped his ear. “Speak to your Underqueen with respect,” he said, “or you will not have a tongue to mind.”

“You’ve got no right to give us orders,” the Ferryman said. He was a wiry, white-haired augur, someone I knew only by sight. “You’ve never known hardship, girl. You’re seventh-order; you don’t know what it is to be exposed to Senshield. You’re the daughter of a Scion doctor. You were chosen by a wealthy mime-lord, who you betrayed for power. Give me one reason I should go to war for you. You’re the one who brought this down on us.”

Dark muttering followed his statement. I tried to muster the words to counter it, but it was like trying to pour from an empty bottle.

“Leave her be,” Tom growled.

“Oh, she talks a good game, but I’d like to see her spend one day in the gutter. And she left Ireland quickly enough when—”

“Stop,” I cut in. “I’m not asking you to go to war for me. I’m asking you towaitfor me. And once I return, I’ll be asking you to defend yourselves. To take back what’s ours.” I paced before them, looking many in the eye. “When I became the ruler of this syndicate, I expected some backbone. I expected to see that unquenchable desire formore—the desire that drives this underworld. It’s what I’ve seen in all our eyes—the eyes of gutterlings, pickpockets, mollishers, mime-lords—since I first took to these streets. Years of oppression never crushed it, that flame that has led each of us to resist an empire that strives to destroy our way of life. Even if we’ve acted on it in the shadows, everything we’ve done, in the century the syndicate has existed, has been a small act of rebellion, whether daring to sell our gifts for coin or merely continuing to exist, and to profit.” I stopped. “Where is that desire now?”

Silence answered me.

“You’ve always known your worth. You’ve always known that the world owes you something, and you meant to take it, no matter the risk. Take it now. Take more.” Applause. Jimmy punched the air. “I will not allow this to be our extinction. Today, we descend. Tomorrow, we rise!”

This time, there were roars of approval. Halfpenny, I noticed, was one of those who clapped, even if he didn’t speak. In the midst of it all, unheard by most of them, the Ferryman spat on the concrete floor.

“I’ll not follow a brogue to my death,” he said.

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