“Sure,” I said. “We’ll look.”
It worked like this. The Families on the Council, both the Founders and the new breed that’s buying them out, they have their own servants. Drivers, butlers, handmaidens, stablers… the whole domestic scene. They have their own little brute squads, too. House Guard. Housies, we called them. They, you know, guard the house.
Tomb’s House Guard was nowhere to be seen. The Manor Tomb sits in the older part of town, just on the edge of what could be called respectable real estate. It was high up in the city. It started out posh, but the years had built up and the wealth had migrated. Now the smoke from the Dunje-side factories formed a putrid strata that clung to the streets and scraped against the walls up here. Rich as the Tombs were, they couldn’t afford to move their address. Grandpa was inside, and grandpa was immobile. And when grandpa went, the whole family went, the writ of name already mortgaged off to one of those new families. So. The manor stayed.
The Manor Tomb was an impressive place, all stone and wrought iron, the brows of the mansion scowling at the street below. The wall that surrounded the grounds was stone, and the gate was well maintained and usually guarded. Not today. Today, the gatehouse was empty. Perfect opportunity, right, except for the street around the manor. The street was full of officers of the Badge. They looked like they were preparing for a war, agitated, the men clutching their weapons as they faced away from the manor, like they expected Veridon to rise up and invade the place. Lots of Badge, with equipment and officers and marching orders. It didn’t look right.
It was going to be tough to get an audience with the Lady under those circumstances. Of course, the alternative was to squat in that flooded basement while Wilson stuffed bugs down my throat. I figured to give it the old Burn try, at least.
Wilson and I circled around the Manor, crossing streets until we were out of sight of the wall and then working our way back to the postern. There was Badge back here, too, but they were playing sneaky; hiding in shops, gathering behind the boarded up windows of warehouses. We picked our way closer to the postern, trying to not catch the eye of the Badge. Wilson walked with his head down, his hunched shoulders twitching under his coat.
The grounds of the Manor Tomb were old. The wall was original to the founding, from when the Veridon Delta was still a dangerous place, and didn’t contain that much space. In the generations that had since passed, the Tombs had filled the interior of the wall with buildings and gardens and the like. That left no room for stables or garages for the family carriage. These things were outside the postern now, spilling out into the district.
I ducked into the stables, Wilson close behind me, and hunched my way to the gate. The Badge outside hadn’t stopped us, so that was half the fight. I looked down at my grimy shirt. I couldn’t look too good, I thought, probably not good enough to bluff my way into the estate. Best to be direct.
There were two guards by the postern, looking nervously between me and Wilson. They were armed with shortrifles and had been eyeing us since we came around the corner. I smiled at them and bobbed my head.
“Morning, boys. Here to see the Lady Tomb.”
“Lady’s not taking visitors today,” the OverGuard said. He had his back flat against the iron bars of the gate. Over his shoulder I could see a dozen more Housies, peeking around corners and kneeling behind barrels. He looked briefly at me, and then pointedly at Wilson. Wilson smiled, his mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth. It would have been better if he didn’t smile.
“Something up? Awful lot of steel in the street this morning,” I said.
“Badge is agitating. Say they’ve got reports of a riot in the area. They’re offering security.”
“Generous of them,” I said. “So you said Lady’s not taking guests today?”
“Not today. Considering the situation.”
“Maybe tell her, anyway. Someone who knows something about the little problem she had up on the Heights.”
“That some kind of code?” he asked.
“Nah. But she’ll let us in.”
He grimaced, then nodded to someone behind the gate. A page ran up, got the message from the guard, and ran off again. We all stood around smiling nervously and peering out into the street while we waited. When the page came back there was another guard with him.
“He’s in,” the page said, out of breath. He poked his finger at Wilson. “That one stays outside.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” I turned to Wilson. “You’ll just have to stay here and…”
Wilson, still smiling, leaned close to me.
“If you leave me here I will climb the walls and find you,” he hissed. “I will kill every man, child and widow’s dog that gets in my way. And when I find my way to your bitch-Councilor’s side, I will wrap her in gum and vomit fly eggs down her throat.”
When he was done he leaned away from me again, slowly, keeping his eyes on mine but smiling all the while. I turned to the guards.
“It’s best if he comes with me.”
“Lady said-”
“Angela will understand. Honestly, everyone will be a lot better off if he comes with me.”
They inched back a little. The messenger shrugged, and the watch captain nodded.
“It’s on your head if he causes any trouble,” the captain said to me.
“Sure, sure.”
The other guard unlocked the gate and let me in, then locked it again from the inside. The guys outside showed no sign of having keys.
“They leaving you out in the cold?” I asked the OverGuard. He shrugged, then put his back to the gate and stared out into the stables.
“Come on,” the new guard said. He was a lot cleaner, his uniform fit too well. He probably didn’t like being near the gates at all. I nodded and followed him into the manor. Once we were away from the gate I shot Wilson a look. He shrugged and stopped smiling.
“You aren’t leaving me behind in this, Jacob.”
“I see that. But there’s no need to threaten.”
“Threat is a language you seem to understand.” He shot his cuffs and rearranged the knives hidden in his coat. “But there’s no reason we can’t work together in this.”
“If you say.”
There were a lot more Housies inside, more than I expected. Maybe that riot story was true. They hadn’t even bothered to disarm me when I came through, either. I fingered the revolver at my belt and looked around. The house was quiet.
She met us in the dining room. The long table was clear, the phalanx of chairs tipped against it. The only other furniture was an empty china cabinet.
Angela was standing by the window, looking out over one of the pocket gardens that spotted the grounds. She wore a riding jacket and pants in deep maroon. The guard left us and closed the door. I motioned Wilson to one side, a step behind me. Maybe if Angela thought he was some sort of servant she would ignore him.
“Angela,” I said.
“I thought it might be you.” She had her arms crossed, and didn’t turn. “When Harold said it was someone with news from the Heights. I thought it must be you.”
“I was hoping we could talk about that,” I said. I crossed to the table. “There are a lot of strange things going on. Maybe we can, I don’t know, clarify some things.”
She nodded, almost absentmindedly.
“You were able to get through the Badge?” she asked.
“Yeah. Came around the back.”
“No officers that way?”
“Some. They’re hiding, but they’re there.”
She nodded again, then scratched at her cheek and looked at me. She paused when she saw Wilson, raised her eyebrows and looked at me questioningly.
“A friend,” I said.
“Well. Friends are good,” she said. She sighed, and it sounded like she was enormously tired, like a child about to fall asleep after a long summer day. It reminded me of the younger Angela, the girl I’d known. It was hard to see, in these clothes, in this place. Hard to remember we’d been children together.
“What about the Heights?” she asked. She motioned to the empty table, then walked over and tipped a chair onto its legs. She sat. “What did you want to talk about?”