Page 15

15September 2060

Prague shone like a trove of bronze at the golden hour. It was a dreamscape breathed to life, ornamented and worked like filigree, its plasterwork as lovely as piping on a cake. Even the doors were exquisite. I could imagine stepping through one and finding myself in the Netherworld.

No one took any notice of me here, on these streets. The idea that there was a life beyond Scion, a world not warped around the concept of unnaturalness – that idea had been so far away, for so long, that I had almost forgotten it. It had been twelve years and a lifetime.

The trees were on the turn, their leaves tawny and falling. While sunlight coppered the city, Maria and I walked along the River Vltava, waiting for the clocks to strike. She had arranged for me to liaise with her supervisor, Radomír Dolecek.

There were no transmission screens in Prague. Their absence reminded me of Scarlett Burnish. Her decision to save me had cost her everything.

Verca would meet us after her shift and take us to Radomír. I needed a walk first, to shake off the fatigue. Maria had lent me a knitted cap to help conceal my face. I told her about my nine weeks in Paris, including my work for Domino.

My head rang with everything I had learned over the course of breakfast. The two airstrikes must have been a grave blow to Scion, but Norway joining the fold would have softened it. For every step we took towards unearthing the anchor, it only seemed to sink deeper.

The airstrikes explained the marks on my face, which I had found on my hands, too. If only other mysteries could be so quickly solved. ‘It sounds like you did fine work for Domino,’ Maria said, returning me to the present. ‘Why were you demoted to a mere associate?’

‘I burned down the Château de Versailles.’

‘Very funny.’ She looked at me through her oversized sunglasses. ‘Wait. Are you joking?’

‘I would never joke about the wanton destruction of imperial property.’

‘Paige Mahoney.’ Maria threw her head back and laughed. ‘I always knew you would have made a brilliant Firebird, if I’d had my way. You’re learning.’

‘From the best,’ I said. Across the street, an amaurotic was performing for a crowd, making a marionette play a miniature violin. ‘I’m a fugitive. Am I all right to be outside?’

‘On balance, yes. I had a look for you on Protean, and—’

‘Protean?’

‘It’s like the Scionet, but open. Scion applied to Incrida – that is, the International Crime Database – to issue a red notice for you. It’s a global request to law enforcement to locate and detain a fugitive. But the general public won’t know anything about it. You’d have to go looking.’

‘Do other countries have to act on the notice?’

‘No, and the Czech government will not assist Scion. Of course, there is also the matter of the reward Scion is offering independently for your capture, to the tune of twenty million pounds.’

Twenty million pounds. It was such an obscene sum of money that I almost laughed.

‘Wow. I’m tempted to handmyselfover for that,’ I said. ‘It’s absurd, for some girl off a dairy farm.’

‘Some girl off a dairy farm who did more damage in a year than Scion could ever have predicted. You’re lucky I hate the rich, or that bounty might tempt me to join them.’ Maria took an electronic cigarette from behind her ear and gave it a twist, making the end glow blue. ‘I think you’re safe on the streets, but I recommend you keep a low profile, just in case.’

I nodded. The sunlight flickered and sparked on the Vltava, reminding me of the Thames.

‘I’m guessing the Ranthen aren’t too happy with my absence,’ I said.

‘When are the Ranthen ever happy?’ Maria blew minty vapour from the corner of her mouth. ‘Nick may know, if Radomír can put us back in touch.’

‘Is it just Radomír we’re meeting?’

‘He’s invited a courier named Yousry, though I’m not sure why. And Verca, of course. She assists Radomír.’ A bell tolled in a nearby tower. ‘Let’s go and meet her, shall we?’

‘You sound nervous.’

‘Ah, you know how it is, introducing people from different parts of your life.’

I did know. It had been a strange experience when Arcturus Mesarthim met Nick Nygård.

Malá Strana was home to a number of manicured gardens, framed by ornamental trees. Their leaves were turning red and gold. In one garden, a woman crouched beside a rosebush with a set of clippers. She was about the same age as Maria, in her late thirties or early forties, wearing peg trousers and a green coat over a blouse.