Lady Blackbird had come by dirigible, accompanied by adventurers whose professional virtues included discretion, agility and trustworthiness.
Gotham, meanwhile, was recovering from its revolution.
The citizens had dismissed Macdonald’s mercenaries and discovered, with characteristic disappointment, that liberty did not provide breakfast.
Engineers repaired the sewers; politicians repaired one another’s reputations.
Beneath the city, however, the dragon’s heart continued to beat inside the broken Clockwork Golem.
The adventurers descended through a disused counting-house, where they discovered footprints in the dust belonging to something .
At the seventh landing they encountered a boy in blue, seated upon a brass gargoyle and eating an apple of remarkable antiquity.
“You are late”
“We were not expected,” said Lady Blackbird.
“Precisely. That is why you are late.”
“The dragon’s heart was awakening the Golem, while the Golem’s gears were teaching the heart a new rhythm.
Unless separated, the two would eventually excavate themselves into Gotham”
Lady Blackbird studied the boy.
She recognised him from a tale told in a distant village, where a nameless river spirit had spoken of Gotham and a mirror that stole the names of things.
“The Mirror of Unnaming,” she said.
He bowed. “And its maker awaits us below.”
They proceeded together.
Far beneath them, two hearts beat.
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