“Major,” I asked, “you had men on watch when Dominic came, yes? What did Dominic do?”
We all looked to Lieutenant Aimer, who is usually in charge in the Major’s absence. “The intruder ransacked the place pretty thoroughly,” he answered, his tiny voice a few horrors lighter than the Major’s, but still rich with experience. “I’m sure it was clear a child has lived there a long time, and likes dolls. They took a lot: old drawings, books, a hairbrush, and they scanned things, took photographs, samples of dirt, swatches off the sofa, so they must have skin, and Boo’s fur.”
“My hairs too, I imagine,” I added. “I’ll be questioned next.” I was almost ready to laugh. “You may be right, Thisbe, I have become the weakest link.”
“No!” Bridger dug his fingers into my uniform. “Mycroft, you can’t go away!”
“I wo—” I stopped myself mid-promise. “I’ll always come back, you know that, even when I go away for little patches.”
He had no words for me, just wide, desperate eyes.
“Will Dominic tell J.E.D.D. Mason about this?” Thisbe asked.
“Dominic? Not right away, not after seeing the No-No Box.”
Another glint of accusation in her eyes. “No more secrets, Mycroft. What is the No-No Box?”
Bridger shrank against me. “It’s bad.”
“It’s a box Bridger kept, with things in it from the trash that should never, ever be miracled. A crucifix, a globe, a Buddha statue, a doomsday device from an old comic book, a devil mask, a toy bomb, some pictures of old paintings that show God or Satan, a black rubber ball.”
“Why a ball?” Thisbe asked it, looking from me to Carlyle, who was already lost in terrifying thoughts. Be happy, reader, you have the luxury of not believing in Bridger’s power: to you these possibilities are still abstract.
I heard a little squeak from Bridger’s throat, and renewed my hug. “Bridger thinks of it as a toy black hole. Bye-bye planet. There’s also one of Cato’s old Science Museum toys in there that’s supposed to be a model of the Big Bang. The No-No Box wasn’t my idea and I didn’t encourage it, but I do think it’s good for Bridger to think about how serious their powers are.”
“If you thought it was a fine thing, why did you hide it from me?” Thisbe snapped.
“I didn’t want to talk about it!” the child answered, sparing me the necessity. “It’s scary and I don’t like it.”
Carlyle’s fingers dug into the battered knit of his sensayer’s scarf. “And Dominic has this box now? Complete with icons and crucifix?”
Possible disasters schooled through my mind. “It’s not … it’s not proof of anything, but it will excite Dominic. A lot.” I took a deep breath. “But Dominic won’t go to J.E.D.D. Mason with something touching on theology, not until Dominic’s one hundred percent sure what’s going on. That’s probably why Dominic’s gone missing, actually, to figure it out before facing son Maître again. You won’t appreciate the gravity of it, but this is the first time since J.E.D.D. Mason was born that Dominic’s gone missing like this. He won’t show his face to Them again until he’s sure of what he’s found.”
“He?” Thisbe repeated. “Mycroft, isn’t Dominic…”
I had not noticed my slip. “What?”
“Never mind. How long have you been involved with these people? Years?”
“This isn’t about me, Thisbe,” I dodged. “We need to get Bridger out of here.”
“Not with you until you answer.”
“Are you part of the cult?” In his way, Carlyle tried to ask it gently.
“What?”
Carlyle brushed back his straying hair to bare a gentle, coaxing smile. “There’s a secret religious group going on here, yes? Are you part of it?”
“No!” I answered. “Well … no.”
Thisbe took a grim pace closer. “That’s not an answer.”
“I can’t.”
“The truth.”
“I can’t.”
“The truth!”
“By law I can’t!” I nodded toward the sensayer. “My sensayer is aware of everything, and keeping a careful watch on me. I—”
“Shhh!” The Major’s hiss silenced us all, and his fast gesture sent his men under the cover of a chocolate wrapper. “Someone’s at the inner door.”
“Is someone there?” Thisbe called, her voice musically loud to cover the footsteps as I helped Bridger to the closet.
“It’s me, Thiz.” It was Ockham’s voice, neither hostile nor friendly. He must have been just beyond the door, at the foot of the stairwell to the Mukta hall above. “I know you have someone in there with you.”
Thisbe was only half-relieved to find it was her brother. “Sorry, should have logged it.”
“I haven’t been listening in, I just came down. Look, Thiz, I give you every reasonable liberty, but we talked about this, when you bring danger on this bash’ it has to stop.”
Thisbe shooed Boo toward me, the dog’s fast breaths harsh in the hush. “I know, Ockham. This isn’t anything dangerous. I’m being careful.”
Ockham took a deep breath. “¿True or false? ¿Whatever you’re doing is making the investigators of the Seven-Ten list break-in more suspicious of this house?”
Thisbe hid behind the oil-rich cascade of her black hair. “A little true. But I’m taking care of it. I’m—we’re discussing changes to keep this from affecting the bash’ anymore. In a little while it’ll be totally cleared away. Trust me.”
“¿True or false?” Ockham asked again. “You’ve brought our new sensayer here five times in three days, and you’ve been lying about why.”
We within traded guilty glances. I don’t think any of us realized we had been quite so clumsy.
“The Conclave checks, Thisbe,” he pressed. “A sensayer is not a safe mark for you.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“I didn’t specify a ‘that.’ Whatever you’re doing, I don’t care what it is, move it, postpone it, end it. I do not want to see that sensayer back until someone who isn’t you has a session scheduled, and I do not want more trackless people in this room.”
Carlyle and Thisbe traded frowns, but there was no good answer. “All right.”
“Is that Mycroft in there with you?” He switched to English to remind me that I was an outsider.
“Ye-es, it’s just me, Member Ockham,” I answered, happy at this chance to screen the others. “I’m sorry. I should have—”
“Until this is over, Mycroft, you can’t visit anymore, not even for the investigation. Work elsewhere.”
“You need me!” I cried. “I know these people. I know what you’re facing. I’m your best chance at stability.”
“Your advice is welcome, but while so many eyes are on us you’re the biggest danger here. We tried our best, but dozens of people from today’s drill know enough to leak that something happened here. Normally I let you visit on condition that you’re no threat to our work, but if the media catches Mycroft Canner here you’ll be a bigger story than Sniper.”
“Canner?” Carlyle repeated it, half-voiced. “Mycroft … Canner?”
I turned. I turned white. We had tried so hard, reader. ‘Mycroft,’ ‘Mycroft,’ never the dreaded surname, not in front of this good innocent. Three days of purloined trust.
“You’re … Mycroft Canner?” Carlyle burst out. “The Mycroft Canner?” He searched the shadow of my hat for the telltale chunk missing from my right ear. I let him find it. I know, reader, when the avalanche can no longer be stopped. “They made Mycroft Canner a Servicer!”
“Shit, is the sensayer in there?” Ockham called through the door.
“Yes.” Thisbe groaned. “Stay calm, Carlyle. Mycroft’s not dangerous anymore.”