A dainty gloved hand fell on his arm. "Mr. Keating, a word if you please."

He tensed when he realized that it was Mrs. Valerie Cutter, better known as the Violet Queen. She had a small geographical territory, but her true kingdom was the brothels and a few of the London periodicals-though some hinted at a significant spy network. Information was her specialty, and thus she was not a woman to brush off. Keating stopped. "How may I help you, madam?"

Mrs. Cutter was dressed in a deep magenta costume decorated in long fringe that no doubt cost dearly but put Keating in mind of a lampshade. She was in her midforties, dark haired, and still handsome except for the cold glitter in her eyes. "We are in tumultuous times, Mr. Keating."

He cast a glance at the monumental steam clock mounted above the entrance to the council chamber. "Not only tumultuous, but fleeting. I am all ears for whatever you have to say, but keep in mind that we are in danger of being late."

She gave him a coy smile that still managed to be annoyed. "Then I will come directly to my point. You need a friend."

"Do I?"

"Don't be foolish, darling. We've all heard about the laboratories."

A bad taste formed at the back of his mouth. "And what do I have to do with that?"

"Nothing, officially, but everyone knows you took an interest in the place. Having it blow up like that looks bad. Some even say it was magic."

"It was the boiler," he said with a stiff smile.

"Something came to the boil, that much is certain." She snapped open her fan, covering her smiling lips.

He'd had enough of the exchange. "Are you volunteering to be my friend, Mrs. Cutter?"

"I find myself casting about for a safe harbor. The last one appears to have been shot."

Keating had been half expecting this, since Scarlet and Violet had always been close. "I have mooring points available for such a delightful craft as yours, but such things require negotiation."

"Trust me when I say you won't regret my offer. I know what evidence Scarlet had on Green. I got it for him. My network is second to none. I can get you whatever you want on whomever you please." As she spoke, her words dropped to a huskier range, losing at least half their polish. It was a bit like listening to a voice undress.

"And all you want is the shelter of my armies?"

She cast her gaze downward, thick lashes dusting her cheekbones. "I'm the only baron without regiments of my own. I wouldn't mind a few of those German airships that Scarlet had his eye on, if you can see your way to throwing them into the bargain."

And what, pray tell, would a wh.o.r.e do with airships? Still, he would rather have an alliance than not. Of any of them, Violet was the weakest and the one he trusted least. With the fewest obvious weapons, she would aim for the throat at once, not bothering with a warning blow.

He raised her hand to his lips. "Why don't we commit to an agreement in principle and work out the finer points after today's council?"

"Do you promise that we will both survive it?"

"It goes without saying that will depend on both of us. Together, perhaps we may."

She slipped her hand through his arm, awarding him a practiced smile. "I would feel much better with a friend at the table."

"As would I," he said, knowing that all he had gained was a slight delay before her knife sank into his spine.

He escorted her through the double doors to the council chamber. Their aides were already a.s.sembled and talking loudly among themselves. Those with status-like Mr. Juniper/Moriarty and like Roth once upon a time-stood directly behind the chairs of the princ.i.p.als, forming a ring of spectators around the table. The hubbub collided with the sound of gla.s.sware as servants placed gla.s.ses and pitchers of water on the table.

He saw Violet to her seat and then circled to his own. Green was once again playing the role of chair, which had the disadvantage of forcing them to listen to her grating voice; it was enough to make one's ears bleed. Keating sometimes wondered if she had talked the late Mr. Spicer into his grave.

He glanced around the table, noting that the Black Kingdom-better known as the underground realms beneath the London streets-had sent three people this time. A nursemaid in her ap.r.o.n and starched cap sat between a girl of about twelve and a boy of about eight. They were dressed very correctly, the girl in a pinafore and the boy in short pants, but all was black and white without a st.i.tch of color. All three were utterly unsmiling, with eyes slightly too large for their faces.

Normally, Keating would have objected to seeing children at the table, but this was the Black Kingdom. No one knew who ran it and no one really wanted to know. There was an aura of something wrong about everyone who appeared from down there. Keating wouldn't have been surprised if any one of the three had extracted a live rat from a pocket and eaten it whole and squirming.

The Green Queen banged her knuckles on the table to bring them to order. "Gentlemen! And ladies. Order, please!"

Her voice sliced through the room, mowing down conversation like so much hay. She then began the recitation of several points of order, which Keating tuned out. His attention went back to the rest of the table, wondering who was in league with whom. There was rumor that Blue had made a pact with the Black Kingdom, but wasn't sure that was true or even possible. Nevertheless, of all the steam barons, the Blue King-better known as King Coal-gave him pause. Thanks to Evelina Cooper, he knew that before the air battle Dr. Magnus had been Blue's maker.

Then the Green Queen's words broke into his thoughts. "Let us take a moment to remember those absent today."

"Yes, let us," Keating interjected. "William Reading is no longer in his chair, regaling us with his unique sense of humor." Or his lethal poisons. "However, despite what the newspapers would have us believe, his death is hardly a mystery."

And then he heard the sound that he had been waiting for-the deep rumble of an engine. His stomach uncoiled as one element of uncertainty resolved itself in accordance with his plans.

Gr-r-r-r-r-r-r-R-R-R-R-R-R.

As the motor grew louder, they all looked up at the model of the dirigible hanging from the ceiling, but the engine they heard was actually flying low over the rooftops. Keating pulled out his pocket watch. On time down to the second. He started to feel downright c.o.c.ky.

"What do you mean, not a mystery?" asked the Blue King in his high, reedy wheeze.

Keating made a gesture and one of his aides produced William Reading's portfolio, as well as a pair of gloves. Keating pulled the extra gloves over his own and snapped open the portfolio, removing the plans for the bra.s.s abomination and spreading them across the table. "Pray, do not touch these unless you are adequately gloved. There is a deadly poison on these pages."

The few who had been leaning forward with interest drew back at that, but everyone obviously recognized what the pages were. Moriarty bent closer, his eyebrows raised as he peered over the Blue King's shoulder.

"Did Reading give you these?" asked the Green Queen, her square, unlovely face flushing a mottled red.

"Yes," Keating said. Did it matter that Scarlet hadn't precisely meant to give them up? "Though I think the more interesting point was how he came by them."

He gave Valerie Cutter a significant look. In the last few days, he'd dug out the secrets of her involvement in the matter of the Clock Tower, and he was putting her on the spot. Now was the moment where he found out what her alliance was worth-would she stand with him, or not? She fidgeted for a moment, toying with the fringe on her sleeve, and then replied with a dainty sigh. "He received them through one of my intermediaries."

"And your intermediary got them from?" Keating prompted.

"Green's maker, Mr. Blind."

King Coal wheeled his chair to get a better view of Green, his look incredulous. "You put the bug in Big Ben? That hardly seems your style."

"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Cutter, a hint of claws in her tone. "Mrs. Spicer runs the financial district, after all. Clerks, bankers, lawyers, insurance men-those folks are good at putting a stick in the spokes when they take a notion."

Jane Spicer rose from her seat, ramrod-straight beneath the stiff silks of her bottle-green dress. Then she fixed Keating in her sights and raised a finger, pointing like the accuser from a Shakespearean tragedy. "No one ever stood up to him. I had to make a statement."

No, you didn't. Keating's gut clenched, knowing everything depended on the next two minutes. Either he was going to get rid of this harpy, or they would all turn on him together. "You, Mrs. Spicer, wanted my territory in the City of Westminster. If you think destroying a national monument-"

"You seized Scarlet's territories without so much as a by-your-leave!" she snapped.

"Did you have first refusal on a piece of it?" Keating asked coolly. "I'm sure you have a solicitor who could call upon mine."

"You took it right out from under the rest of us."

"Isn't winner take all the point of commerce? I'm sure some of the smaller counting houses had the same complaint when you swept in."

He'd barely finished speaking when the first bomb dropped. The rumble of the explosion rattled the drinking gla.s.ses on the table. A puff of dust fell from the model dirigible, indicating that it was time to clean.

"What was that?" wheezed the Blue King, visibly anxious.

"Most likely the Imperial Bank," Keating replied. "Your headquarters are upstairs, aren't they, Jane?"

Mrs. Spicer's cheeks went from red to white. "Curse you, Keating!"

The nursemaid from the Black Kingdom rose, and silence fell. The representatives of the underground rarely spoke, but when they did the rest listened. "Destroy what you must, but do not disturb what lies below. If your weapons shake the earth, you threaten to wake our king." She spoke with a cut-gla.s.s accent more befitting a d.u.c.h.ess than a servant, but it was her words that caught Keating's attention. "You wouldn't like him much when he is awake."

"Wake your king?" he repeated. "I doubt anyone in this room has the slightest notion what you are talking about."

"He sleeps," she said, the tilt of her head reminding him of a bird hunting a worm. "Do not wreck yourself upon his anger. He will demand recompense."

"And what would he do?" the Blue King asked, sounding caught between incredulity and something close to fear.

The nursemaid turned to him, eyes impa.s.sive. "Whatever you dread most."

"What is your name?" the Violet Queen demanded. "Who are you to threaten us like this?"

"The daylight world banished its nightmares long ago." The nursemaid put one hand on each of the children, caressing their hair. "Leave us be, and we are an uneasy dream you will soon forget. But disturb us ..." The rest of her statement hung unspoken.

The ground shook with a second explosion, and it broke the spell of the nursemaid's warning, replacing a vague threat with something much more immediate. The Green Queen wheeled on Keating. "What are you doing?"

He bared his teeth in a not-quite smile. "Retaliating for what you did to me-only I'm better at it. Withdraw your troops from Scarlet's borders."

"I don't bow to threats. Surely you know that by now."

Another explosion followed, this one closer. A gla.s.s fell over, swamping Scarlet's poisonous papers. People shuffled out of the downstream path.

Blue laughed, sounding like leaky bellows. "That's not a threat, Mrs. Spicer. And I'd tell your troops to worry about your own territories. It sounds like there won't be much left at this rate."

Keating gave Blue an acknowledging nod. Green tossed her agenda to the floor. "This meeting is adjourned."

There was a beat of silence. The children from the Black Kingdom watched the poisoned water trickle past them, their faces impa.s.sive. Keating tore his gaze from them and back to Jane Spicer.

"There are formalities to be observed. You defaced the Palace of Westminster," Keating reminded her. "I'm sure the queen would like a word."

Green scoffed. "I'm sure she'd like a word with you about those streets of hers you're bombing."

But then the double doors opened and Keating's own soldiers filed in, their gold uniforms almost tastelessly bright. The Green Queen's aides-pinched-looking men who looked like they hunched over ledgers from dawn to dusk-stood quickly aside.

"Surely you jest, Keating!" There was a flash of bewilderment on Mrs. Spicer's plain face. He'd seen it before, in this very room, when they had ousted Gray. That time, she had been quite happy to take Gray's property and let him go to the devil. This moment of ignominy will come to each of us, sooner or later, until one of us has won.

But the moment the soldiers touched her, she came back to life. "I left instructions!" she barked, struggling as her wrists were lashed behind her back. "If I don't return, my people will know what to do."

If you don't return, your people will be popping champagne corks.

She'd lost the iron control that kept her spine so straight and was thrashing wildly, kicking out at her captors. "Unhand me! I have wealth. I can pay you."

"I'm sure Her Majesty's private service will be interested in the details, Mrs. Spicer. Be sure to answer their questions regarding your income promptly and without omission." Keating kept his face in a superior sneer, but he didn't relax until he saw her marched from the room.

Then he looked around at Blue, Violet, and the unsettling delegation from Black. We're the only ones left. Once events begin to move, they don't dally.

Another boom shook the earth. He'd given orders to flatten as much of Green's territory as possible, sparing his own bank, of course. He gave the table a light rap with his knuckles. "Any other items of business we want to discuss?"

King Coal gave him a withering look. "Not now, Mr. Keating."

"Then shall we discuss terms?"

Blue laughed, exchanging a glance with Moriarty. "You're blowing up London. I have a lot of terms for you, none of them polite." He reversed his chair away from the table, and his Blue Boys a.s.sembled behind it. "I'll see you at the barricades."

This wasn't how Keating had wanted it to end. There should have been a treaty-one he could break at his leisure. "You're inviting the Baskervilles to do their worst."

"I'm tired of wondering what they'll do. Maybe it's time we broke a few eggs, Mr. Keating. Let's see what kind of a pudding we have at the end of the day."

Keating sneered. "And no doubt you'll eat it, whatever it is."

King Coal chuckled. "Put what you like on my plate, Mr. Keating. I have a prodigiously strong stomach. Perhaps I'll eat you alive."

He wheeled out of the room, leaving the Gold King alone with Mrs. Cutter and the alarming children. d.a.m.nation. He turned to the nursemaid. "I imagine there will be a great deal of panic on the streets. Would you like an escort to your homes?"

"Thank you, sir, but no," the maid replied in her cultured accent. "We're used to fending for ourselves."

Then the boy smiled, showing a row of sharply filed teeth. Keating caught his breath, a primitive response making him push back his chair. Are they even human?

Which was the only reason that when Moriarty ducked back into the doorway and fired his weapon, the bullet slammed into Keating's shoulder instead of his heart.

The war was on.

London, October 8, 1889.

CAVENDISH SQUARE.

4:05 p.m. Tuesday.

"MOTHERS ARE OBLIVIOUS CREATURES," POPPY PROCLAIMED. Poppy had come to visit Alice for the afternoon and they'd taken Jeremy for a walk, leaving his nurse behind. It had seemed like a delightful idea-they both needed some cheering up, and Alice was one of her favorite people. Poppy wasn't sure how well it was working, though. She kept thinking about the coded message-wondering how Bucky was getting on with it-which led her to what Bucky had said about Tobias, and that kept ending up with her wondering how long she could go without telling Alice her husband was nearby. Poppy would have felt better if she could have done something instead of stewing with anxiety, but she hadn't had a single good idea. She bit her lip, trying to concentrate on how cute the baby was, and not how guilty she felt.

"We quickly develop the ability to ignore what is not essential." Alice picked up Jeremy, who was fussing and-Poppy had to acknowledge it-slimy with drool. "I learned quickly not to wear silk in the nursery so that I could put cuddling my son first." She then made adoring noises until Jeremy giggled.

Poppy smiled at a pair of older ladies, who were all but staring at the striking red-haired woman and her perfect child. They didn't notice her, so she returned to the task of pushing the perambulator. It was one of the clockwork models, so it trundled along practically on its own, ticking gently as the spring wound down. It was one of the newer models, so they'd only had to stop and wind the crank once.

The day was dry, if not sunny, and cool enough to make a brisk walk pleasant. Still, it was a long journey around the park near Cavendish Square-about twice the circ.u.mference of the world when one had an infant in tow. By the end Poppy had been tempted to weigh Jeremy to see if the quant.i.ty of liquid emerging from the baby in various forms corresponded in any way to what went in, or if he was somehow pulling all that fluid from the aether. Alice took it utterly in stride, mopping up her infant with a doting calm.