"I'm here to kill Crane, your master," I said. "So I don't really have time for talking."
"You always seem to have time for talking, Jacob. And you're mistaken. Camilla is in our hearts, and in our souls. This man Crane is merely the conduit."
"You're about to get bitten by your conduit, Cam." I addressed the cage. "He's had access to the Mother Fehn. He knew you were here. You're the one who's trapped."
"She can't hear you, Jacob. The connection's not that good." The Elder folded his arms and cocked his head at me. "But we really can't let you kill this man. He's proving very useful."
"As useful as he wants to be," I said. "Useful until he's figured his way into your angel's head. Then we'll see how useful he is to you."
"Listen, I know you're the hero type and all, but we really do have things properly in hand, here. You're nothing but a distraction, Jacob. That must be terribly disappointing, hmm? Not being anything more than in the way?"
"Listen to me. Crane knew Camilla was here. He didn't fly into a trap, no matter what Camilla thinks. He came here to get close to the angel, to figure her out. Right now, in that cage, he's worming his way into her. Through you, most likely."
"Jacob, you offend me. As if we know nothing of our opponent." He raised a hand dramatically to the cage, sweeping to take in the whole room. "You're right, the Church is a dangerous place for him. His power seems to derive from cogwork, and we have more than a little of that here. But not in this room. Nothing but plants and glass. We even have fires to light our vigil, rather than frictionlamps. So, as you can see, everything is under control." He turned back to me. "Now. Get out of the Church, or we're going to have to kill you."
"It'll take more than an Elder and a dozen dead Wrights to stop me, sir."
"We know. That's why we've been talking, you and I." His face became serious, all of the genial glee washed out. "Chatting away while my friends showed up."
Light from below. Torches. The room was filled with Wrights, each holding a torch, creeping along the paths between the trees, under the crosswalks. Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more.
"Yeah," I whispered, looking down and flexing my free hand. "That's probably enough."
"Right. Crane has played with you, Jacob. He got you to deliver the virus to the Fehn, he got you to disrupt the Council enough that they turned their attention inward, instead of looking for the threat from outside. They spent so much energy wondering if you were working for the other Families, trying to start a civil war in their midst, that they never saw Crane. Right under their eyes. And now he's arranged events to convince you that you need to kill his body. I don't know why, or what purpose it could serve. But Camilla has seen enough of this game to know that whatever you're doing, no matter how clever you think you're being, it's just Crane pulling your strings. So if you'll just surrender your weapon and come with us, we can get past this bit of unpleasantness and proceed with Camilla's plans for you."
"I said 'probably,' Elder." And snapped the pistol up, put one in his forehead, bulled him off the edge of the platform and made a break for Crane.
They rushed me, but the platform was only so big. The dozen that were up here already were the only ones that had a chance to stop me. I only had so many bullets and the quarters were tight, so I wrapped my fist around the cylinder of the revolver and used it like iron knuckles, battering my way forward.
They had hammers, but the Wrights were clumsy. Clumsy and strong. The first one I punched twice in the face, each blow shattering bone, but it wasn't until the third strike that he stumbled backwards. Didn't fall. Just stumbled. And then his companion was on me, hammers swinging. I dodged to the side, then jumped forward to get under the arc of the backswing. Caught his elbow with my shoulder, ducked under and lay the barrel of the revolver against his armpit. The shot came out the top of his skull and he slumped. One less bullet, and still ten guys up here, and dozens more at my feet, clambering up the support girders to the crosswalk.
I snatched up the fallen Wright's hammer in my other hand, flipped the revolver around so I could use it as a sap, and turned back to the guy whose face I had dented. He was swaying, arms outstretched, waving about. I came at him from the side, switching blows with the hammer and the grip, drumming his head until he keeled over. Two down. I turned back to Crane.
The rest of the Wrights had gotten organized. They stood in a loose half-circle between me and the cage. I was hurt, my rational mind could feel the bruises where hammers had skidded off my shoulder and arm, but the Mother burning through my veins was still grinning. Still going. I supposed I should be glad for that. Rational Jacob would be down on his knees, howling. Then again, Rational Jacob probably wouldn't get me killed. I had no idea what the Mother burning through me was planning, but it felt kind of terminal.
Beneath me, the crosswalk shuddered. The dozens of Wright who were climbing up it clenched their fists and hugged the metal, but a couple fell screaming to the dirt below. I almost lost my feet. The clumsy Wrights squatted and looked around, bewildered.
Not sure what caused that. Not sure I cared. It was all the opening I was going to get. I threw myself at the center of their little arc, shouldered into the lead guy and spun around once. I put each of my tools, the hammer and the gun, into the side of his knee. As he buckled I grabbed the hem of his robe and pulled him over me like a cape, putting him between me and the fastest-reacting of his companions. His pal swung with abandon, doing him a lot of harm, even after I rolled clear. Took them a second to refocus on me, and by then I was circling behind the cage. They closed on me like a pincer.
The one to my left looked a little weaker, in the sense that he actually had a neck and fairly average shoulders, as opposed the rest of the brutes. Camilla had picked her biggest Wrights for this little duty, and they were all built like pack-mules. But this guy was the least pack-mulish of the bunch, so I jumped at him.
He was clearly chosen for his speed. While the others were strong and slow, he was strong and fast. Worst choice I could have made, attacking this guy. Just add it to the list. He dodged my attack and put the flat of his hammer between my shoulder blades. Only thing that saved me was the fact that I tripped, so the blow skipped off my back like a stone on water. Hurt like hell, though.
Down on my hands and knees, I decided that maybe this guy warranted a bullet. I rolled onto my hip and brought the revolver up, flipping it around so that the barrel was pointing in the right direction. He had a similar idea, or at least recognized the possibility. Hadn't even gotten my finger properly inside the trigger guard before his boot came up, slapping the revolver off target. I didn't drop it, but it was a close thing. He followed through, stomping on my gun hand, crushing it between the revolver and the iron crosswalk. I screamed, in pain and frustration, the animal rage of the Mother in my veins. The Wright smiled.
"Enough out of you, Jacob Burn," he growled. Wrapped both meaty hands around his hammer and raised it up. The others crowded eagerly in. "Enough trouble out of you."
I leaned back, then brought my forehead into his crotch. Good news, that works on the cog-dead, too. Wasn't sure if it would. He winced and stumbled, enough that I could work the revolver out from under his foot. I drove the elbow of that arm into his inner thigh, then, standing and putting the full force of my legs and back into it, I smashed the grip of the revolver under his chin. He crumpled.
His friends looked briefly disappointed, then murderous. This wasn't going to last much longer. Had to find a linchpin, or they were just going to butcher me here and let my blood feed the trees.