Library of Souls (Page 68)

“Congratulations,” Sharon said. “I’m glad I could be here to witness this.”

Bentham’s excitement was infectious. It was an astounding thing, his machine: a universe contained in a single hallway. Looking down it, I could see hints of other worlds peeking out—wind moaning behind one door, grains of sand blowing into the hall from beneath another. At any other time, under any other circumstances, I would’ve run and thrown them open. But right now there was only one door I cared about opening.

“Which of these leads inside the wights’ fortress?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, to business,” Bentham said, reining himself in. “My apologies if I got a bit carried away. I’ve put my life into this machine, and it’s good to see it up and running again.”

He leaned against a wall, suddenly sapped of energy. “Getting you into the fortress should be a simple enough proposition. Behind these doors are at least a half dozen crossover points. The question is, what will you do once you get there?”

“That depends,” Emma said. “What are we going to find when we get there?”

“It’s been a long time since I was inside,” Bentham said, “so my knowledge is dated. My brother’s Panloopticon doesn’t look like mine—it is arranged vertically, in a high tower. The prisoners are kept elsewhere. They’ll be in separate cells under heavy guard.”

“The guards will be our biggest problem,” I said.

“I may be able help with them,” said Sharon.

“You’re coming with us?” Emma said.

“Absolutely not!” Sharon said. “But I’d like to do my bit somehow—with minimal risk to myself, of course. I’ll create a disturbance outside the fortress walls that will draw the guards’ attention. That should make it easier for you to skulk about unnoticed.”

“What kind of disturbance?” I asked.

“The wights’ least favorite kind: a civil one. I’ll get those layabouts on Smoking Street to catapult nasty, flaming things at the walls until we’ve got the whole guard force after us.”

“And why would they help you?” Emma said.

“Because there’s lots more where this came from.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out the vial of ambro he’d snatched from Emma. “Promise them enough of it and they’ll do just about anything.”

“Put it away, sir!” Bentham snapped. “You know I don’t allow that in my house.”

Sharon apologized and stuffed the vial back into his cloak.

Bentham consulted his pocket watch. “Now, it’s just after four-thirty in the morning. Sharon, I imagine your disturbers of the peace are asleep. Could you have them riled and ready by six?”

“Absolutely,” Sharon said.

“Then see to it.”

“Happy to be of service.” And with a swoosh of his cloak, Sharon turned and hurried away down the hall.

“That gives you an hour and a half to prepare,” Bentham said—though it wasn’t immediately clear what preparations could be made. “Anything I have is at your disposal.”

“Think,” Emma said. “What would be useful in a raid?”

“Do you have any guns?” I asked.

Bentham shook his head. “PT here is all the protection I need.”

“Explosives?” Emma said.

“I’m afraid not.”

“I don’t suppose you have an Armageddon chicken,” I said, only half kidding.

“A stuffed one, among my displays.”

I imagined throwing a stuffed chicken at a gun-toting wight and wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Perhaps I’m confused,” Bentham said. “Why would you need guns and explosives when you can control hollows? There are many inside the fortress. Tame them and the battle is won.”

“It’s not that easy,” I said, weary of explaining. “It takes a long time to take control of even one …”

My grandfather could’ve done it, I wanted to say. Before you broke him.

“Well, that’s your business,” Bentham said, sensing he’d stepped on my toes. “However you accomplish it, the ymbrynes must be your priority. Bring them back first—as many as you can, starting with my sister. They’re the most wanted, the biggest prize, and they’re in the worst danger.”

“I agree with that,” Emma said. “Ymbrynes first, then our friends.”

“And then what?” I said. “Once they notice we’re stealing back our peculiars, they’re going to come after us. Where do we go from here?” It was like robbing a bank: getting the money was only half the job. Then you had to get away with the money.

“Go anywhere you like,” Bentham said, gesturing down the length of the hall. “Pick any door, any loop. You have eighty-seven potential escape routes in this hallway alone.”

“He’s right,” Emma said. “How would they ever find us?”

“I’m sure they’d find a way,” I said. “This will only slow them down.”

Bentham held up a finger to stop me. “Which is why I’ll lay a trap for them, and make it look as if we’ve hidden ourselves in the Siberia Room. PT has a large extended family there, and they’ll be waiting just inside the door, good and hungry.”

“And if the bears can’t finish them off?” Emma said.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to,” said Bentham.

“And Bob’s your uncle,” Emma said, a Britishism that would’ve been incomprehensible if not for her sarcastic tone of voice. Translation: your nonchalant attitude strikes me as insane. Bentham spoke as if the whole thing were no more complicated than a trip to the grocery store: storm in, rescue everyone, hide, finish off the bad guys, and Bob’s your uncle. Which was, of course, insane.