Page 163 of The Bone Season

‘But I wasn’t—’ Carl started.

‘Shut up.’

Carl was summarily forced to shut up.

‘30 isn’t glued. Look at her for orders,’ the Vigile said. ‘Otherwise, stick to your objectives.’

I pushed my tongue against my lips, but they wouldn’t budge. This Vigile definitely had some grievance with the syndicate.

Warden reached into his coat and presented us with two full masks, stiff and blank. At night, they would go unnoticed by most denizens.

‘Put these on,’ he said. ‘Are you both ready?’

Carl nodded and donned his mask.

Warden sought my gaze. I looked grimly at him before I pressed the mask to my face, feeling it bond with my skin. With my lips sealed, I couldn’t call for help. A tight hood came next, concealing my hair.

Now my only chance of being recognised was for one of the gang to clock my aura. Surely Jaxon would – it was the first thing he noticed about anyone.

He still might not realise who I was. In his mind, I was the only dreamwalker, his peerless jewel. I was also either dead or imprisoned. If he thought he was seeing another one, he might go straight into denial – and even after living with me for three years, there was a small chance he could mistake me for an oracle. He might not believe his own eyes, his own senses. The only way to find out was to get close to him.

Warden put on a mask of his own, making his face even blanker than usual. For the first time, I was glad I was on his side.

Suffolk Place had been deserted, but Haymarket had a few people on it. Tertius met us on the corner of Pall Mall with Amelia and David. Trafalgar Square was now in sight, and we all strode towards it.

‘Situla will approach from the other side with 18 and 26,’ Tertius said. ‘12, 30, take your positions.’

Amelia nodded. ‘Don’t enter Trafalgar Square, 12. It could spook them.’

A bob of his mask was his only reply.

Hector and Jaxon had never agreed on where the line between their territories lay. I had come here many times, to fend off intrusions.

Nelson’s Column rose from between its two fountains. Like other major landmarks across the citadel, it was always lit in either red or green, depending on the security level. It was green now; so were the lights in the water, which rippled and churned.

A voyant brushed past me. Glancing at her, I glimpsed an earpiece. A plainclothes Vigile.

After three months away, in a city with a tiny population, so many dreamscapes were overwhelming. I tried again to pinpoint the others, breaking a cold sweat.

When I sensed her, my heart jolted. Looking as best I could through the eyeholes of the mask, I saw a figure sitting on the steps of the Imperial Gallery.

Scion had no idea she existed. Her birth had never been registered. I was willing to bet that no one here knew she was one of the Seven Seals, either.

Eliza had arrived early. I had a wild thought that I could send a ghost across the square to nudge her, but the Rephs would notice at once. If I used my own spirit, I would collapse on the spot.

‘Carter will arrive soon,’ Warden said, keeping his voice low. ‘We must bide our time. Do not allow yourselves to be captured under any circumstances.’

On the steps, Eliza kept sketching, oblivious.

Get out of here. I wished I was an oracle, so I could send her a vision.Run while you still can …

Now I could detect the others. Five dreamscapes approaching from five directions.

Trafalgar Square was surrounded by seven plinths, each housing a tall statue of an important figure in the history of Scion – three women and four men, including Lord Palmerston. Rifle at the ready, Amelia crouched behind Irène Tourneur, the First Inquisitor of France.

Warden led me and Carl to the foot of the seventh plinth, which always depicted the incumbent Grand Inquisitor. Frank Weaver frowned at the square – every detail cast in iron, down to his side whiskers.

A pair of amaurotics were chatting on the steps of Nelson’s Column. A voyant approached them with a tin, holding it out for money. They waved him off in annoyance and headed towards Charing Cross.

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