Page 86 of The Song Rising

Maria reached into the crate. “Quickly,” she said. “Grab one each.”

We fumbled with the weapons, wrapping them in our coats. Suddenly the alarm sounded again, making us all flinch. Bands of red light arced through the loading bay.

“Now might be a good time to mention that Catrin killed Price,” I said. “I imagine we’re about to feel the consequence of that.”

“Come on!” Tom was by the exit, punching in the release code as the sound of a door opening grated through the loading bay. “Underqueen, hurry!”

He didn’t need to ask twice. We crossed the loading bay at speed, weighed down by our plunder, and reached the outer door.

Maria ducked through. Tom was on the other side, holding the colossal door open with nothing but his own strength. Sweat poured down his face as he forced his shoulder against it. Eliza scrambled under next, almost losing the rifle as it slipped from the crook of her arm. As the Vigiles opened fire, Tom let go of the door. I threw the rifle ahead of me and slid through the gap, into the snow, just before a teeth-rattling crash of metal against concrete made me throw my arms over my head. I gathered up the rifle as Tom hefted me to my feet.

The factory gate was ajar; Major Arcana’s contact had left us one more chance for escape. We ran, our boots sliding on fresh snow. When a Vigile sprang out on our left, Maria threw a knife into his thigh. Tom slowed, panting heavily, as we closed in on our exit.

“Tom—” I pulled his arm around my shoulder. “Come on. You can make it. Just a bit farther . . .”

“Leave me, Underqueen,” he rasped.

“No. Not this time.”

More gunfire from behind us, and the ever-growing peal of the alarm. Maria flung open the gate. A few more desperate, staggering steps, and we were through it, into the van that awaited us on the corner. It was only when Major Arcana slammed his foot on the accelerator that I realized who was in the front seat, still smothered in the blood of Emlyn Price.

Catrin Attard caught my eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Pleasure working with you, Underqueen,” she said softly, taking in the scanner-gun I was hugging to my chest. “I’m glad we both got what we wanted.”

15

The Grand Smoke

December 6, 2059

Another night, another journey.

This time, we were on our way to the Lowlands.

Hari had helped us escape the citadel. It was best that he didn’t know exactly what we had done, or Roberta might think he had been involved, but he knew something had happened. He had wished us the best of luck, kissed Eliza on the cheek, and passed us into the care of another member of Alsafi’s network, who had stowed us into the back of an armored Bank of Scion England vehicle bound for Edinburgh. I stayed close to the stolen scanner-guns, like an animal guarding its young.

Sweat pearled on my neck and forehead. Catrin might work to protect her people if Vance retaliated, or she might just continue the cycle of violence that had left her with that scar. I had no way of knowing. I might never see what I had done to that citadel.

We had to keep moving—following the next clue in our seemingly endless pursuit of Senshield’s core. Following crumbs cast into the wood.

“Tom,” I said into the darkness of the moving vehicle, “does the Lowlands have an organized voyant community?”

Tom had been quiet since our escape. I heard him take a deep breath before he spoke.

“I’m not sure. There was a group in Edinburgh that sheltered people during Vance’s reign. They were mostly osteomancers, led by a person called the Spaewife. If they’re still there, they might help us.”

His voice was slower than usual. “Tom, are you all right?” Maria asked.

“I’m fine. Just need some sleep.”

I couldn’t imagine ever sleeping again. My head was heavy, my thoughts mired in fatigue, but Vance’s face was engraved on my vision. It floated in the darkness, disembodied and all-seeing, like something a dose of flux would summon. I felt too watched to close my eyes.

Vance would know where we were heading, I was sure of it. She knew I was on Senshield’s trail. She would discover that the rifles had been taken—rifles marked for shipment to Edinburgh. That was more than enough to send her after us, but I saw no other choice but to chase the next lead.

Eliza drifted off first, followed by Tom, whose sleep was restless. I lay on my side with my head pillowed on my arm, trying not to think about how many crates had been in that loading bay. How many guns.

A rustle of movement came on my left, accompanied by the glare of a flashlight. Maria was unwrapping one of the scanner-guns.

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