She wasn’t going to be able to bounce these two like she had the pirate. They’d left her with her dagger, which was more than a little strange, but even if she stuck the blade in one of them, the other would take her head off with the sword he carried.
The men, used to obeying orders, didn’t quite know what to do. They looked at each other over her head, then shrugged. If no one had said they couldn’t, then they decided perhaps they could.
One of them led her, the other followed behind, and ushered her into another room. The similarity with hers was startling: the single chair, the slit windows, the single lantern. Simeon was pacing the room, up and down, the knuckle of his right hand between his teeth. When he saw her, he stopped.
‘What have you told them?’
‘What have you told them?’ she retorted. ‘You shouldn’t even be here.’
‘They made a compelling offer. To which, I believe I will reluctantly agree.’
‘What offer?’
He put one foot up on the chair and rested his elbow on his knee.
‘They want the maps, naturally. More to the point, they want the map that you’ve made.’
‘You told them about that? You fucking idiot!’ She stepped forward and kicked the chair away, causing Simeon to stumble forward. He was suddenly furious and raised his hand, ready to swipe it backwards across her face.
‘You black witch!’
‘Hit me and I’ll stick you.’ Her dagger was in her hand.
The servants at the door seemed content to watch and not interfere.
Simeon lowered his hand, slowly, and walked away. ‘Whatever circumstances brought the maps here, the Lords of the White City have a claim on them.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, mate.’
‘He who pays the piper, calls the tune.’
‘They’re paying you?’
‘Handsomely. Do you know how difficult it is to find manufactured goods in Down?’
‘Dalip told me you wanted to stick it to the geomancers.’
‘They’re giving me guns.’ He kicked the fallen chair aside, clearing the centre of the room. ‘With guns, no geomancer on Down will ever trouble us again. That’s the use to which I put the maps. You forget that they’re like coin here, and I’ve spent them wisely.’
‘Don’t you want to go home?’ Mary circled him. ‘Don’t you want to go back to London? What about your crew? You haven’t bothered asking them, have you?’
‘There is no way back. After all these years, I have to accept there’s no means of returning to the London of any age.’
She waited until she could look him squarely in the eye. ‘What if I told you that there’s a working portal, right here in the White City, and it goes both ways? Would that change your mind?’
‘Oh. You are mistaken. There is no portal here: portals require magic.’
‘You realise that those fuckers you’ve cut a deal with aren’t even human? They’re… things that people made years in the future and they’re getting their orders from the other side of a portal. Which has to be here, somewhere. Because where else would it be?’ She clenched her fists and stamped her feet. ‘We were so close! And at the last minute, the last second, you shaft us to get your hands on a couple of antique shooters. Well, fuck you very much. You could have gone home, and now you can’t.’
She stopped and turned. She had an audience. The two servants who’d served as her escort were now in the doorway, and behind them, there were the shadows of others.
‘What? Where I come from you pay to see a fucking show.’
‘Is it true?’ one of them blurted. ‘Is it true?’
‘That you can go home? Shit, I don’t know. I don’t know when you come from or anything. But I do know that Captain Crapper here has just blown the best chance you’ll get this side of forever.’ With her back to Simeon, she went straight to the point. ‘The round building: how do I get inside?’
‘You don’t. No one does.’
‘That’s just bollocks. There has to be a way in, because otherwise what’s the point of it being there? I’m guessing a tunnel from one of the nearby buildings◦– where you’re not allowed to go, but they are. Anything like that?’
‘There are so many rules, what we can do, where we can go—’
‘Then you’re just slaves and you need to get out.’
Simeon snorted behind her. ‘My crew are better than these whipped curs.’
‘Then do something for them,’ she said, ‘rather than doing something for yourself. Did they show you the guns before you told them about the map?’
He hesitated. ‘Yes.’
‘They are never going to give them to you, you know that? They are never going to give you anything that might let you hurt them.’ She waved her dagger in his face. ‘I mean, they gave me this. They insisted I take it. When I asked about the rifle over the fireplace, it was “you can’t have that”. Which do you think they trust me with? This, or that?’
‘What would you have me do, woman? My crew are my concern, and we are already overdue at the ship. I’ve had enough of this: I’m going to take what I can and get back to the sea.’
‘Go on then. Do it. I’ll clean up this mess.’ She addressed the servants. ‘Anything. Anything you can tell me would be good right now. I can’t keep making it up as I go along.’
They couldn’t even look at each other, let alone her.
‘Fine. Just open the front door. I’ll take it from there.’ She rounded on Simeon. ‘And you, you spineless prick, should be right next to me, fighting to save Down from these mentalists.’
‘Save Down? Down is a foetid rat-hole of anarchy and greed.’
‘Yes, and it could be so much more than that. But it needs us to do something for it.’
‘What, pray tell, might that be?’
She held her arms up. ‘I haven’t got a fucking clue. But at least I’m willing to try.’
She turned back to the servants, and pushed as many as she could back down the corridor. She knew the way out◦– she just needed their confused permission to let her leave.
As she bundled them forward, she could see one or two falter and try to argue, as they realised this wasn’t quite right. She started shouting at them to keep them going, disorientate them for long enough, and above all stop them from talking to each other.
She was there: an entrance hall, big enough for a party all on its own, and the locked door right in front of her. She elbowed her way through, and started on the heavy bolts top and bottom. The first one was straightforward. The second one wasn’t, until she put her shoulder to the door to release the strain.
Then the lock. Her hand was on the heavy key when she heard an imperious voice commanding her to halt.
She was as used to disobeying as the servants were to obeying. She hauled on it, and it started to turn.
‘Somebody stop her.’ The tone was exasperated and ancient, as if all the weariness of a century’s boredom had fallen at her feet. Hands came towards her, and she was forced to defend herself with quick, sharp jabs.
The robed figure strode towards her, knocking the men out of the way, left and right.
‘As useful as you have been, you are becoming a nuisance now.’
‘Knowing that makes me happy, you freak.’
It reached up. She deliberately stuck her dagger in its forearm. It paid no attention whatsoever to her actions and its fingers tried to circle her throat.
She ducked down and darted to one side, into the waiting arms of a man, who tried to grapple her squirming, stabbing, biting form. He reeled away, but she was set on by another two, who overwhelmed her and pinned her to the boards.