I woke up in a coffin with a woman in my arms. It seemed like she'd been trying to get out of my arms for quite a while, because we were tied together, and it felt like she'd been using my spine to try to wear through the ropes. She was doing it right now.
"Stop that, please," I mumbled. My throat was sore and dry, and my head was swimming. I had trouble moving my tongue. My muscles all felt like they'd been packed with kindling and then broken.
She screamed once, loudly, directly into my ear. I winced, but that just led to me banging my head against the wall of the coffin. I assumed it was a coffin, at least. Not many small, wooden things you would put people into.
"Gods, I thought you were dead," she said. It was Veronica. Great. "You haven't moved in half an hour. Haven't even breathed. Can you get your arms free?"
"Maybe I am dead. Maybe they stuffed a bird down my throat and they're controlling my every move. I feel bad enough to believe it."
"Will you stop screwing around and try to get your arms free!" she yelled.
"I don't think we're going anywhere. I mean, even if we get free. What's the matter, Lady Bright? You don't like holding me?" The coffin lurched and I banged my head again. "What was that?" I asked groggily.
"A wave. Because we're on a boat."
"That sounds bad," I said.
"It is bad. That crazy kid wouldn't shut up about how you floated some damn piece of cogwork down the river, then she had a barrel brought in and stuffed you in it."
"And then you jumped in to save me and they closed the top?"
"She got it in her head that it would more damned poetic if there was a girl, and I was the only one who qualified. Something about a lady named Emily." She started sawing at my backbone with her bound wrists again. "Now stop talking and do something about getting us free."
"Wilson will probably save us," I said. "Just be cool."
"No one is going to save us. Do you understand, they put us in a barrel and then in a boat, and now we're out on the river somewhere," she hissed into my ear. "And they're going to float us down the river and over the falls."
"Oh. Oh, I see where she's going with that. Because of the heart. Right." I shook my head, but that did nothing for the vertigo. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm really not at the top of my game. Something happened to my head."
"Something happened to your whole body, idiot. Like I said, you haven't even been breathing."
"Well. I'm breathing now. I'm going to assume that you've screamed for help?"
We hit another lurch and then the whole barrel rolled a couple times. We landed with a splash. Even inside the barrel, I was pretty sure that I couldn't hear the roar of the waterfall. We had a little while.
"Listen. Calm down for a minute. We don't want to break out of this thing just yet," I said.
"Yes," she answered. "I do."
"No, you don't. That boat of guys just dropped us into the river. If we pop out right now they'll just pick us up again and then we're back in the barrel. Or they'll just shoot us. Anything in your lifetime of training gonna keep you from dying when you get shot?"
She was silent.
"Right. So we're going to get out of these ropes and then we're…"
"That's what I've been trying to do! All the way over here I've been trying to use a corpse's backbone to saw my way out of these ropes, so I could get out!" I knew it. "Do you not think I want to do this? Is there something about my commitment to the idea of escape that is eluding you?"
"Stop. Panicking."
"There's water coming into the barrel."
"We're in the river," I pointed out. "It's natural."
"It's kind of a lot of water."
She was right. There was a lot of water sloshing around in here. And I was on the bottom, so things were looking less than rosy for me. Not that they had been looking that great beforehand.
"Well, the good thing about that is that we're not going to go over the waterfall. Because we're going to sink right here." I started kicking at the barrel. "So there's that."
"You're not very good at optimism."
"Oh, love," I snarled. "You have no idea."
I kept kicking at the barrel, from about where it felt like most of the water was coming from. This had the unexpected benefit of bringing more water into our little vessel. This was rapidly becoming a race between how quickly the barrel would fill up versus how quickly I could get a hole big enough to squirm through. And Veronica picked up on that, because she started kicking too.
"You're too high," I said. "The water's coming in over here."
"I'm trying to loosen the iron bands. If we can slip one of those off, the whole thing will splinter open."
"You're talking about kicking iron bands," I said, then remembered how hard she had hit me earlier. "Nevermind. You do what you're doing."
And she did, and we were both remarkably successful at getting water to flood the barrel at a tremendous rate. Which meant that we sank, and fast.
"One more breath," I gasped. "One more breath. One more."
"Shut up," she hissed. And with that we were underwater. It felt like we were sinking a lot faster than we should have been, but I didn't have a lot of experience in drowning. When I fell, it was usually out of the sky. But I was pressed hard against Veronica, and she was flat against the barrel, and we were both thrashing madly against the boards. There was some slippage between the boards, but it wasn't going to be enough, considering how fast we were sinking.
And then, suddenly, we were moving sideways and up, fast. We broke the surface with a smack. Water rushed from the split boards of the barrel. I craned my neck to get my mouth into the air as soon as it was clear, breathing in deep, clean breaths. Veronica, shorter than me, hitched herself up on my shoulders to get to the new pocket of air.
We weren't out of the water yet. There were maybe six inches of clearance at the top of the barrel, and the rest was still flooded. I noticed an iron barb that had pierced the end of the barrel, and that I had in fact cut myself on when I was struggling for air. Veronica was looking at it, too. It could easily have pegged one of our skulls.
"Hey, hello!" I yelled, when my lungs were done spasming. "There are people in here!"
"Quiet down there," a voice said. Dangerously familiar. Iron springs and tuning forks, struck to mimic a human voice. An artificial voice. "We know you're in there. Play it cool."
"I'll play it cool when I'm out of this river," Veronica snapped. There was silence above us, then a low, trilling laughter.
"You always travel with women, don't you, Jacob?"
"They know you," she said.
"Yeah. And I hope it's not who I think it is."
Seconds later a rough, noisy machine fired up and the barrel rose out of the water. Wood and steel groaned at the weight of the barrel, full of us and the river. The engine changed gears, and we swung in to the deck. It was a full minute before we were on solid ground, and by then only half of the barrel had drained.
"Stand away from here," a regular human voice said, tapping on the wall of the barrel. We hunched over. The staves on that side splintered, and then the shiny head of an ax protruded into our compartment. Soon the whole barrel cracked open like an egg, and we tumbled to the deck of a tiny fishing boat. Rough hands pulled us over, cutting ropes with the efficiency of men accustomed to cleaning fish.
"A pretty one, too. What do you think, Cacher? Would she be a good replacement for Emily?"
I rolled onto my butt and looked up. Valentine stood over me, Cacher at his side. Both of them were armed with skinning knives. Cacher had an ax looped over his shoulder. We were not on land, but on Valentine's boat.
"Hey, boss," I said.
"There are two things you will never call me again, Jacob. 'Boss,' and 'friend.'" He leaned down and slapped me casually across the cheek, his heavy metal hand spinning me over and cutting my cheek against my teeth. My mouth filled with blood. "In case you are unclear on our arrangement."
Metal hand, because Valentine was a metal man. I don't know at what point in the modification process Valentine stopped being meat, but it was a long time ago. His memories were engrams, stored on metal coils. His voice was a trick of springs, the kind of voice a harp might have. And his face was a work of art. Carved darkwood sketched the merest hint of cheekbones, chin, jawline, eyebrows. These pieces moved on hidden tracks, shifting as he talked, or scowled, or laughed. Everything behind the sculptured mask was shadow, his head an orrery of memories and thought.
He was also my former boss, and someone I had pissed off mightily. Right before I got Emily killed, in fact. Oh, and Cacher, standing there next to Valentine? He was Emily's boyfriend, technically. So we were all old friends, and none of us had to go looking for reasons to hate each other.
Veronica stood up and stepped between us. Noble of her, but she wasn't a noble girl. Probably just counting her allies and trying to keep things even. I turned over and spat blood onto the deck.
"I'll have you know that I'm the Lady Bright, Councilor of Veridon. And that man is also a member of the Council, although you already seem to know his name. To whom am I addressing myself?"
"Hanging out with Councilors now, is it?" Valentine asked.
"S'alright," Cacher said. "Councilors can be whores, too. And this one's got the tits for it."
Cacher was on his back, the knife cartwheeling across the deck and splashing into the river. The ax was in Veronica's hand, resting lightly against Cacher's knee. Valentine roared with laughter.
"Well, it's clear what kind of rough Jacob likes in his women. So." He clapped his hands together. "How shall we proceed?"
"Boss," a man said from the back of the boat. "Not my place, but maybe could you keep them down. We've been spotted."
We all looked upriver. The boat that I assumed dumped us was just visible through the coils of fog that walked across the surface of the Reine. They were turning slowly around, to come our way.
"Inevitable that this would happen. Jacob, Lady Bright. If you would be so kind as to get into the forecabin. There are clothes, although we were only expecting one, and not a lady. My apologies for your sensibilities." Valentine held up a hand. "And before we go, please apologize to Mr. Cacher. He's a rough man, but that's no way to thank someone for saving your life."
"You have to be kidding," Veronica said.
"It is not in my nature to kid. Your brief demonstration was impressive, and I'm sure you're more than capable of handling yourself. However, I promise you, I can have you over the side of this boat in half a breath. Now. Please apologize."
"I'm sorry I don't like being talked about like a piece of meat, and won't tolerate your bullshit. Thanks for saving my life."
Cacher pulled himself to his feet and, mumbling, sketched a short bow to the Lady Bright. Valentine smiled.
"Sufficient. Now, let's be about our business, shall we?"
"Valentine, what the hell are you doing out here? Did you follow us?"
"All shall be answered. Let's leave it at saying that I offered you help once before, and you declined it. And that cost Emily her life, and nearly cost the city its god. I will not take that risk again."
"If you're offering me assistance again, I'm going to go ahead and decline. Thanks for saving our lives and all, but we'd rather you set us in a lifeboat and let us go on our way."
"You misunderstand. This time I am not giving you the opportunity to decline. You will help me address the current crisis, or I will put you away and deal with it myself."
We stared at each other for a second, his empty eyes churning darkly in that beautiful face. Veronica grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me into the forecabin. She was stripping off before I had a chance to turn around.
"It's not a horrible thing to see," she muttered. "You're going to make a girl feel bad."
"It's not that. It's complicated. Never mind." I started fumbling with my shirt. The clothes available were simple fisherman's garb, but there were several mismatched shirts and pants in a pile. We would both be able to find something that fit.
"And who are these strange friends of yours?" she asked, her voice muffled as she pulled a shirt over her head.
I told her; explained how Valentine was my boss when the famous events of two years ago went down, how he had my back until things got too complicated, then shoved me to the dogs. And when it became advantageous for him again, came back and offered to help. How I took that offer poorly, and held a gun to his head. Told him we were done being friends.
"He doesn't hunt me," I said. "That's the best thing I can say about the relationship."
"So what's he doing here now?" she asked.
Before I could answer, Cacher opened the door without knocking. Leered at us as he held out two pistols, grip first.
"You're arming us?" I asked.
"Boss says. Jacob Burn ain't the same man without a little iron dick to wave around."
I took the revolver. Veronica took hers, but held it daintily. Without another word, Cacher closed the door.
"Beats the hell out of me," I said, answering Veronica's question of a moment ago. "But we should find out."
Dressed, and with our weapons tucked into waistbands under baggy vests, we went back out on the deck. The fog had lifted some. We could even see the distant majesty of the Church of the Algorithm, perched on the banks at the confluence of the Ebd and the Reine. The other boat was awfully close, and steaming at us.
"We gonna get out of their way, Valentine?" I asked. He was standing on the edge of the boat, resting his hands lightly on the side. Staring down the other vessel as it approached. He turned his head slightly to me, then back to the boat.
"I have strange allies, Jacob. Are things prepared, Mr. Vaunt?"
I looked down and nearly jumped out of my skin when a face slid out of the water. Green and bloated, with teeth like popcorn.
"They are, sir," the face said with a voice that was all water and mud.
"Then let us end this encounter, shall we?" He waved jauntily to the boarding party that was gathering at the rail of the other boat, bristling with longrifles.
There was a thump that I felt in my knees, and a boiling tumor of water rose up from the side of other boat. Its hull tore like party paper, and the whole thing bent. Suddenly heavy, it leaned to one side, its bow pointing sharply away from us, and then it ripped open. A second thump, and deep inside, something exploded. Fire rolled along the deck, and she was sinking.
"There. Doesn't that feel good?" he asked, turning to face us. "All those bad men who put you in a box and rolled you into the river? They're on fire now!"
"What happened to you?" I asked nervously.
"I've started taking action. I've always been a brutal man, Jacob. I've just become very intentional in my brutality. Now, if you'll come with me."
We followed him to the back of the boat. Several floating corpses pulled themselves from the water and approached us.
"You're working with the Fehn?" I asked.
"Of course. I had a number of loyal subjects among their race. When," he looked at me funny, "the event occurred the other morning, they came to me for solace. There's something I've learned from you, Jacob. Never turn an ally away, no matter what the consequences may be. They can be so useful."
"A little late for that to be much use to me," I muttered, thinking of the time he had kicked me to the street, just as I needed his protection the most.
"But it's not, Jacob. I've learned a lot in the last two days. Probably more than you, in fact."
"This I doubt. But try me."
"I know that there's an Artificer in town," he said, cocking his head.
"Not news."
"There are many dead on the Council. Several of the families are said to be near the brink of war. And the Patron Tomb is about to die."
"Oh, gods, Valentine. I used to have such respect for you." I watched the shattered remains of the other boat slip beneath the river. "The last son of a purged and exiled Founding Family, associated with the Artificers, came back to Veridon to take revenge on those who did his family wrong. He killed people who held their former property, toyed with and murdered those on the Council whose ancestors originally declared a purge on his ancestors. Including my father and, yes, the Patron Tomb. But his true target was the Church. And when he struck, the Angel Camilla was waiting for him."
Valentine looked at me with unmasked awe, even through that nearly blank face. His eyes went to Veronica.
"Near as I can determine, Camilla has somehow absorbed him and is using the Artificer's magic to hold herself together."
There was a moment of stunned silence around the tiny boat. Even the Fehn looked shocked. I smiled and crossed my arms.
"So what have you got, Valentine? What do you know that I don't?"
"Well," he started, and took several breaths to collect himself. "For one thing, I knew you were floating down the river in a barrel. And I think that ought to count for something."
"Granted."
"And I know what the Fehn have told me," he said, giving me a sly look. "Which is the only thing that really matters right now."
I looked to the popcorn-toothed Vaunt and shivered.
"What have they told you?"
Valentine strutted around the deck, his hands in his pockets. "Besides the unusual arrival of a barrel from the Church, a barrel that screamed when they loaded it? Well, they told me that whatever you delivered to them, Jacob, was like a disease. It spread quickly, it killed many. Those who survived either bunkered down in the underwater hives that house the Mother…"
"Mother?" I asked.
"The prime Fehn. Slug zero," he said, then waved the matter away with his hand. "Anyway. They either bunkered down, or they hid on the surface with their friends. These gentlemen of the river came to me. They were quite shocked by the attack." He placed a hand on the Fehn's soggy shoulder. "In fact, they're quite unhappy with you, Mr. Burn."
"They can get in line, Valentine. I was tricked, just like the Tombs. Just like my father."
"Yes, well." He folded his hands in front of him. "The point is, while they were at first in communication with their brethren beneath the river, the situation has changed."
"Changed?" I asked.
"They have lost touch."
"The Mother is silent," Popcorn Mouth said. "The histories are empty."
"Histories are empty," I repeated.
"All of the past is closed to use. All of the present." The Fehn looked shaken, as distressed as a soggy corpse can look. "We have nothing but these limited forms."
We were all quiet for a minute. The Fehn was inching closer to me, his hands out as though to rest his fingers against my chest. I stepped back.
"Do you know what the hell he's talking about?" I asked Valentine.
"Only in very limited ways. The Fehn have a sort of hive mind…"
"That's a gross misunderstanding," Veronica said. We turned to her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had a scholar among us," Valentine said. "Please, continue. I happily yield the floor."
Valentine does not happily yield anything. I tried to warn Veronica, but she seemed immune to my glares and subtle hand motions.
"Well, it's more like…" She held her palms up, her vision unfocused and slack. She was looking for the words. "I'll start with your analogy, Mr. Valentine…"
"Simply Valentine," he murmured.
"Valentine, then. It's like a library. The Fehn seem to be units in a larger, continuous organism. Like books in a library, or notes in a song. They're not a hive mind, not at all. But they are in harmony. I would go so far as to say that they are a harmony. And all of it comes from the Mother, as you say. The prime slug."
Mr. Vaunt the Fehn stared at her, open mouthed. His hands were still hovering over my chest.
"Yes," he said, eventually. "The song of history. Yes. That is what we are."
"And that song has been disrupted," Valentine said, resuming his role as moderator. "Which has never happened, in however many centuries the Fehn have drifted through our fine river. These gentlemen have lost contact with the Mother. It didn't happen until well after the cog-dead virus worked its way through their population. Something else plucked the Mother from their minds."
"Like what?" I prompted.
"It seems that someone, and I assume that it is this Mr. Crane you mentioned, has been screwing around with the Mother Fehn. Tapping it for knowledge. And using that knowledge to get inside the Church. That was the whole point of the attack you participated in. Because of the peculiar way the Fehn communicate, taking control of a large portion of their population gave Crane a kind of back door into the Mother."
"Why would that matter? Why would the Fehn know the first damn thing about the Church of the Algorithm?"
"We know everything," Vaunt said. "We know what this valley looked like when the city was born. What the river tasted like, and why it tastes different now. We know what is upriver, and down. We know why the sky fell, and when it will fall again. All of these things, mortal. And so many more."
"Okay." I cocked an eye at Valentine. He shrugged.
"I have learned that whatever the Fehn are now, they were once something very much like a library. And the Mother, as they call it, is the only fragment of that library left. And while it has gone a little mad, it still collects data, and stories, and preserves them as best it can."
"And Crane? What has he learned from her?"
"Who knows? But you say that Camilla was waiting for him. As if he didn't know she was there? I promise you this. Anyone who has had access to the Mother Fehn would know everything there is to know about Camilla. More even then our little angel knows about herself, I suspect."
This gave me pause. I wasn't sure which was worse; Camilla tricking Ezekiel Crane into freeing her and giving her his power, or Crane tricking Camilla into thinking she had tricked him. Too much tricking. Too much thinking things through.
"So is Camilla free," I asked, "or is Crane manipulating her? And if so, to what end?"
"He was pretty clear about that," Veronica said. "The end of Veridon."
"Which is why I'm not willing to take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Burn." Valentine put his heavy arm around my shoulders. I nearly buckled under the weight. "You are going to solve this problem. I'm going to see to it."
"In case you missed it, she's already kicked me out of the Church once. And she has Wilson. And an entire army of zombified holy men." I shrugged Valentine's arm off and crossed my arms. "I'm happy for your help, I really am. But there's no way we're getting into…"
I stopped, because I had been through another door to the Church of the Algorithm. Going out, but I'm sure it went both ways.
"Mr. Valentine, I'm going to need a favor from your underwater friends," I said. "And maybe a little guidance."
"Of course," he bowed. "You have a way in."
"I do. There's a passage that leads into Camilla's chamber under the Church. Last time I was there, one of the Fehn helped me escape. An old friend." I turned to Mr. Vaunt. "Wright Morgan. Do you know him?"
"He has passed into the histories," he said, the words slurred and wet. "But his story is very old."
"Fair enough. That was almost an answer." I addressed Valentine. "There's an iron suit that sank to the bottom of the river, along with the wreckage of the Bandicoot the other morning. If your friends can get it for me, I think I can get at Camilla."
"And what do you intend to do then?" he asked. "I only ask because I need to protect my investment, here. Not because I don't trust you, Jacob."
"Although you don't," I said.
"Not at all," he confirmed.
"Glad you pulled me out of the river, Valentine, but I kind of feel like you could pick it up a little in the support category."
"Stop screwing around, Jacob. What are you going to do when you get inside?"
"I'm not going to the Church," I said. "Too much resistance there. If what your water-logged friend says is true, Ezekiel isn't even there." I turned to Veronica. "Every time there was a possession, there were a series of pipes. Kind of like organ pipes, only more spread out. Wilson never could figure out what they were doing, but it was clear enough that Crane was somehow projecting himself through them. It seemed a lot like he was reversing the process that is used to record engram-songs. Like he's broadcasting himself, rather than recording the actions of someone else."
"If that's the case, and he's possessing Camilla, shouldn't there be these pipes somewhere in the Church?" Veronica asked.
"Remember when I shot that Elder? The two crows, and the brass cages inside?"
"You think he's broadcasting himself through the Wrights of the Algorithm?" She squinted and got that far away look again. "Rebuilding them somehow. Not a bad idea."
"Are you suggesting we go in and wipe out the entire population of the Church of the Algorithm?" Valentine asked. "Because, while I'm not opposed to the idea in theory, the practice of it could be tricky. Morally."
"Valentine, afraid to carry out a little brutal mass-murder?" I chuckled. "What has become of you, old man? No, you're right. I wouldn't do that. Even if they are possessed by Crane, I'm pretty sure that these cog-dead maintain something of themselves. Wilson and I managed to disrupt Crane's control, and the cog-dead that were around us seemed to snap out of it. Just long enough to beg for help. Once free of Crane's influence, the Wrights of the Algorithm will go back to judging us and being holy for it."
"How did you do it?" Veronica asked. "Disrupt Crane's control?"
"Killed the body he was possessing. Seems to be several levels of control. He seems to maintain a small presence in the minds of the cog-dead. He appeared once, in his house, possessing a dead body, but that was a minor possession. Not a lot of movement, just talking. This last one, though, I could have sworn it was actually him. And the body he was possessing was still alive, unlike the first. So we need to find who he's possessing, right now, before he finishes building those pipes in the bodies of the Algorithm. Because if he manages to project himself in Camilla, we're in a lot more trouble than I can manage."
"So who is it?" Valentine asked.
I turned to the Fehn, who were standing glumly by.
"This is why I'm going to need two things from you guys. I need you to recover the iron suit that I lost when that boat sank. And I'm going to need your forgiveness."
They found it in the wreckage, covered in burned timbers and dead bodies. There were a lot of ships on the floor of the harbor. All of them charred, all of them with their crews still on board. It even shook the Fehn. Nothing shakes a corpse, but this did.
I wasn't anxious to get back in it. Some bad memories had started in this thing. It was just yesterday, but it seemed like so long ago. I stepped into the iron man's embrace and let it seal around me. Again, that metal clank as it shut, a creaking that filled my ears, and then the air around me was as hot as a forge. Valentine watched me seal myself in, then gave me a nod.
"Your girlfriend never came back," he yelled, so I could hear through the thick faceplate.
"Not my girlfriend. And she knows what she needs to do. I trust her." I checked the gauges that lined the collar under my chin. "What are you going to do, while we're in there?"
"Stay out of the way," Valentine said. "Today seems like a good day for a cruise up the river."
"So you fish me out of the river, demand that I accept your assistance, then once we have a plan together you're going to drop me back in the water and head up the river to hide."
"'Hide' is a tricky word. I'm staying clear of the potential damage, Jacob."
"Right," I said. My checks were done. There was nothing left but to get into the river. "Well, Valentine, let me be the first to say that I can appreciate a little situational cowardice."
I stepped into the water and sank, fast and straight. Again, those ghost faces came out of the water. Vaunt, and his smiling, popcorn teeth. Hands gripped the heavily armored shoulders of my suit and pulled me effortlessly forward, into the river. Into the dark.