♪ ♪
(flash powder boom)
Took his liver.
Just like the first two.
Where are we on them?
Have you sorted out if they had any kind of relationship?
No, sir.
They didn't know each other.
Been on the case from the start, he's got nothing.
He was a good man, Morange.
Never took so much as a stiver for the work he did for us.
Saw it as his civic duty.
Oh, true enough, sir,
but with respect, there were rumors...
-Rumors? -Word was that he saw it
as his "civic duty" to do other jobs, too.
-Jobs most doctors wouldn't touch. -Such as?
DOMBEY: Abortions... reconstructions...
FLUTE: What, convicts looking to have
their brands removed, that sort of thing?
DOMBEY: And Pix looking to pass.
Getting their ears bobbed, their wings sheared.
Happens more often than any of us
would care to think, I'm afraid.
(shears clipping)
-(crying) -(flash powder boom)
FLUTE: Well?
Philo?
Sir.
I said it's your case.
If there's a connection between the victims, then find it.
-Yes, sir. -(flash powder boom)
♪ ♪
(indistinct chatter)
Morning, Father.
"Hardtackers tack Harder
with Longerbane Daughter at the helm."
Clever. Though I'm not sure I know exactly what it means.
It means she turned the tables on me.
That's what it means.
I wish you hadn't been there to see it.
Ah, you make too much of it, Father.
Now you sound like your mother.
Always trying to handle me.
Like I'm a bottle with a bad cork
that might pop off at any moment
(chuckles): and take someone's eye out.
You've always taken after her, even as a boy.
The irony is, of course, that... it's me
she'd rather you took after.
To that end, I thought I might come watch you
in Parliament again today.
-There's no session today. -Oh.
Longerbane's body is lying in state.
His daughter will be receiving condolences from his supporters.
-Really? -I know.
I needn't have allowed it, considering what he did to you.
But remember one of the first rules of politics:
magnanimity in victory goes a long way
towards disarming one's enemies.
Very wise, Father.
Seeing as I have little to do today,
I thought I might go to the country.
Perhaps we could go riding together?
You well know I would greatly enjoy that,
but I really should attend to my studies.
Master Symes has been amassing an army of tutors on my behalf.
I'm so sorry.
Thank you.
I promise to do my best
to carry forth my father's legacy.
(organ music playing)
MOURNER: I pray so.
He was the only man brave enough
to tell the truth about what these...
Critch are doing to our city.
Never give up the faith. He stood for all of us.
(indistinct chatter)
Morning.
Hello.
Who's that?
A gent from last night.
I do them all, actually.
Soon as the light's up. Is that strange?
Not for you.
He almost looks... grateful.
Mm. Some of them are.
Because you made them feel young again for the night.
That they don't have to hate their own bodies.
Some of them are just pigs,
but I sketch them, too, all the same.
For some reason when you get their faces down on paper,
they're easier to forget.
(sighs) There's more in there than I care to count.
Maybe one day when I've given up the life,
I'll have a show.
"A Whore's Revenge," I'll call it.
(both laughing)
I missed you.
Me, too.
(knocking on door)
There's been another killing.
Maybe there is a connection between the victims.
Maybe there's not.
Could be they were just unlucky enough to cross paths
with whoever this maniac is.
Sir, I tracked down a cabbie
who drove Morange home last night.
Says he picked him up on the Row.
What was he doing on the Row?
Driver couldn't say.
Only that he picked him up outside a Pix brothel.
Morange?
G-Go check it out.
Fucking case just gets uglier by the day.
We'll crack it, sir.
Just because Philo couldn't find a connection
between the victims doesn't mean there isn't one.
(indistinct chatter)
♪ ♪
(chanting): Show us your face! We seek you in darkness.
Show us your face!
Oh, Hidden One!
Show us your face! Our flesh deceives us!
Show us your face.
We seek you in darkness. Show us your face.
(chanting continues)
Show us your face.
(chanting continues in distance)
This has just come for you from the dressmakers.
IMOGEN: I thought as much.
I've agreed to accompany Mr. Agreus
to the charity auction at the museum this afternoon.
It seems he aims to salve my humiliation with a gift.
Lay it out then, let's see it.
Huh.
He certainly spared no expense.
The color suits you well, too.
What is it?
Please, sit down.
Ezra...
you're scaring me.
Do you remember Dr. Morange?
Father's friend?
He's been killed.
What happened?
The same that happened
to the headmaster the other day.
BAGSTOCK: Another murder?
What is this city coming to?
I wonder what Mr. Philostrate can tell us about it.
Has he come down?
BAGSTOCK: He's not here.
He left just after midnight.
One can hear all the comings and goings in this house,
the walls are paper-thin.
GRAYSON: They're saying it was someone from the constabulary
was killed. I trust he's all right.
Good day. To you both.
Good day, Mr. Grayson.
A word if you please, Mrs. Fyfe?
-Of course, Mr. Bagstock. -(door closes)
Please be advised that unless this situation
comes to an immediate stop,
I will be vacating my room at month's end.
I'm sorry, what situation?
Oh, don't play me for a fool, Mrs. Fyfe.
I'd long suspected something was afoot,
and last night I saw you leaving his room
with my own eyes.
An old widow parading about
like some kind of harlot. (chuckles)
I may be an old widow, but I am a grown woman
in charge of my own life.
Very well, then.
I'll expect my deposit returned expeditiously upon my departure.
Mr. Bagstock?
Be out by the end of the day.
If I might have a moment alone with my father...
Of course.
Everyone, please leave.
Miss Longerbane needs a moment alone.
SOPHIE: Not you, Jenila.
Unpin this. Terrible headache.
Yes, miss.
(door closes)
God's noose. I thought it would never end!
JENILA: So many of them.
SOPHIE (sighs): "I'm so sorry for your loss."
-Thank you so much... -(laughing)
...for your kind words.
Hold still while I unpin it.
Oh, was I at all convincing?
Asking for a moment alone was a nice touch.
Mm.
Did you think so, Father?
Don't look like that.
-(Jenila laughs) -JONAH: Huh.
SOPHIE: Who's there?
Answer, or I'll call the guards.
You're Jonah Breakspear.
I'm sorry for the intrusion, Miss Longerbane.
SOPHIE: What are you doing here?
I came only to pay my respects.
To the man who kidnapped you?
Liar.
Said the girl who just cleared the room
so she could pretend to grieve her father.
Come closer.
Is this close enough?
Suppose it was inevitable that our paths would cross
sooner or later.
I have to admit, you're not at all what I expected.
What did you expect?
Well, certainly not someone with such evident affection
for their Critch handmaid, for one thing.
Given your performance in Parliament yesterday.
Of course it was a performance.
I don't like the word "Critch."
Is that so?
It's a good slur, as far as slurs go.
But even so, as my father's daughter,
that performance would've been one I would've
been a fool not to give.
And you are, self-evidently, no fool.
Despite the rumors.
Rumors?
That the reason your father's kept you sequestered away
all these years is because you had a difficult birth,
and came into this world a simpleton.
The birth was difficult. It cost my mother her life.
And it made my father, quite naturally,
overprotective of his only daughter.
Well, whatever the reason,
it sounds like you had a lonely childhood.
I suppose it was.
A little girl, no friends
but for the volumes in her library.
No amusements but for the litany of secrets
drifting up from the smoky room down the hall,
where the most important men in the city whisper and plot.
It's no wonder you learned to lie so convincingly.
And how to discern lies.
Such as?
I know my father didn't kidnap you.
Who else, if not my father's fiercest foe?
Who can say for certain? Perhaps his dearest love.
I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean by that.
Oh, I think you do.
I think you knew before you even asked the question.
Why, Master Jonah,
is that fear in your pretty eyes?
Are you scared of poor little Sophie Longerbane?
Should I be?
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
We could be friends if we had a mind to.
I suspect we have much in common.
Oh?
The two sole heirs of the city's two
most important families.
Overprotected.
Chronically underestimated.
There's only one difference I can see.
What's that?
I am free of my parents.
Good day, Master Jonah.
(sighs)
PORTIA: Mr. Philostrate.
Home for a bath and a change of clothes, I see.
(train whistle blows)
Let's make a real go of this.
The two of us.
You can give this room up, keep it if you like.
But stay upstairs with me.
I'd like that. Don't think I wouldn't.
But I don't think I can give you the things you want.
You already have. More than you realize.
You're still young.
You can have a family, but not with me.
Who said anything about that?
We can work all that out later,
-but right now... -I need you to listen to me.
Please.
The other day when you said I was hiding something,
you were right.
Tell me.
Whatever it is, it won't matter.
These murders, they're all connected.
To me.
You said one was your old headmaster,
but the others?
The doctor who was killed last night,
I think it's because...
...he's the one who did it to me.
Did what?
She brought me to him when I was a baby.
The fae.
The singer?
Yeah.
She was...
She was my mother.
I don't understand.
What you're saying doesn't make any sense.
I'm half-fae, Portia.
From when my wings were shorn.
If this is a joke, it's not funny.
It's the truth.
Now you know.
Get out.
Take your things and get out now.
(indistinct chatter)
(whistles)
731.
Again?
It's my lucky number.
♪ ♪
(doors creaking)
♪ ♪
(breath trembling)
(cries out)
(glass rattling)
(shouts)
PHILO: I'll see you there. I love you.
VIGNETTE: I love you.
I'm going to seal the library.
(indistinct shouting, screaming)
(cries out)
-SYKES: Sergeant. -Sykes.
What are you doing here?
I just needed a place to think.
Finally caught up with you, did it?
Philo.
Oh, you think I don't know?
How'd you find out?
I can smell the fae in you, even now.
Like I told you, the wolf fades slowly.
You never said anything.
What the fuck is there to say?
It is what it is.
All you can do is keep your mouth shut and move on.
I told Portia.
Why?
Oh, I don't know...
-I thought... I don't know! -What?
I just, I thought maybe she'd...
What? She'd accept you for what you are?
Make things better?
What the fuck were you thinking, Philo?
If this gets out, this could destroy you.
She won't tell anyone.
Well, she better not.
You're the only reason they let me live.
If anything happens to you,
what the fuck's gonna happen to me?
CABAL: Oh, Hidden One.
-Show us your face! -Our flesh deceives us.
-Show us your face! -We seek you in darkness.
Show us your face!
-Oh, Hidden One. -Show us your face!
-Our flesh deceives us. -Show us your face!
-We seek you in darkness. -Stupid Critch.
Putting a beating on their own selves?
All for some fake god?
Hey, don't you shites know that's our job?
See? I can do it ten times better than you, aye?
Oh, that's right.
But punches aren't what you're interested in, is it, aye?
-You favor this, don't you? -No.
-All right, then. -(grunting)
All is as the Hidden One wills it.
You'll let me know if I'm doing it right, won't you, huh?
-(grunting) -Like this?
Watch and learn. This is the truth.
They will never accept us.
They will never understand us.
We can make no peace with the ignorant.
(laughter nearby)
(exhales sharply)
Oh, do something, Moira, before he hurts himself.
Can I help you, lad?
I've come from the constabulary.
-Ooh, I can see that. -About the matter of a certain gentleman
we have reason to believe visited
these premises last night.
Since deceased.
You mean poor Morange, of course.
I told the inspector who was here last night
everything I know.
What inspector?
Philo was there last night?
Odd he didn't say anything.
Probably just slipped his mind.
Yeah, he hasn't been himself.
I think he took what happened at the boys home
harder than he let on.
That was his headmaster, after all.
Closest thing he ever had to a father.
What I want to know is why was he following
after Morange in the first place?
The night he was killed, no less.
It is curious, I'll grant you that, Sergeant.
Now, you've been with him since the start of this case,
-haven't you, Berwick? -Yes, sir.
Is there anything else I should be made aware of?
Well, out with it, man.
It's to do with Critch rumors, a beast they call a Darkasher.
A thing you raise from the dead
to do your bidding, even kill for you.
Philo swears he's seen it.
Right.
There he is.
Keep an eye on him, understood?
Any irregularities.
Oy, if you could get this upstairs...
Something happen, Inspector?
I've decided to find new accommodations, closer to work.
Remember that old fella, the one we met in the fae's flat?
Yeah, of course.
Think I heard something about a show he's putting on.
On the road.
Want me to come with you, Inspector?
No need.
(door closes)
Just a quick look, before the crowds.
It was founded in the summer of '41
when our brave lads took Anoun back from the Pact
and held it until that Austery.
It was brought across the sea timber by timber.
Mind you,
-there are some naughty bits. -WOMAN: What?
-Oh. -(giggling)
Look at that one.
(quiet chatter)
You're not supposed to be in here.
Get the fuck out!
(screaming)
(birds cooing)
(dog barking in distance)
(glass clinking)
MAN: Shut that bloody dog up!
(snarling)
I know who you are.
(exhales)
What is it?
What did you see?
-My death. -No.
Are you certain?
I have felt it.
Coming closer and closer.
But surely if, if you saw what's to come,
there must be some way to prevent it.
My dear girl, did you learn nothing all those years
sitting at me knee, watching and listening?
There is no cheating death.
Especially when it's to come at the hand of a Darkasher.
A Darkasher?
Tell me.
I didn't come here to talk about my fate.
-You wanted to know about Jonah's. -No.
Your safety is what matters.
You will stay here until the danger has passed.
Don't even try to say no.
(indistinct shouting)
-Hey! -(grunting)
(Vignette whimpering)
(shouting)
Sit down.
♪ ♪
(quiet murmuring)
(indistinct chatter)
AGREUS: I know this isn't
easy for you.
-Perhaps some champagne. -Yes, please.
LOUISA: Imogen.
IMOGEN: Louisa. Leslie.
Mr. Agreus.
Two days in a row now.
This must be serious.
Mr. Agreus, this is Leslie Boythorn.
Must say I'm surprised to see you here, Imogen.
Or did Ezra suddenly find his lost fortune?
As I understand it,
he's putting his money to work in the shipping trade.
Do I have that right, Miss Spurnrose?
It's quite right.
Admirable to see a man apply himself
when he could so easily rest on his inherited good fortune.
Leslie has his eye on the most striking
and triumphant painting from Augustus Hope.
The Rising?
More than just an eye, Louisa, dear.
I intend to purchase it.
It's expected to fetch well north of 100,000 guilder.
What was it about it that caught your eye?
I'm curious.
It's a masterwork.
Everyone knows that.
And at that price, if it doesn't match the drapes
in your drawing room, I suppose you'll just have
to get new drapes.
Louisa?
Shall we?
Hmm. Yes.
AGREUS: She had sex with him in the carriage on the way here.
(whispers): How do you know that?
We Puck have keen senses.
I'm surprised they made it inside.
That girl is so tightly wound,
it's a miracle the fool didn't get stuck.
(laughs)
AUCTIONEER: Ladies and gentlemen,
if you'll kindly take your seats.
-(whistle blowing) -OFFICER: Oy!
(indistinct shouting)
Come back here!
Did you not see what was happening?
No, it doesn't matter anymore. They're gone.
-Who's gone? -All of them.
Leopold, Cassiopeia,
Fike, Traidy.
They've all been deported by your lot.
I'm sorry, I didn't know.
Maybe it was for the best. At least, I'd like to think so
because it's not much being an immigrant in the Burgue
these days, but...
I shall miss them,
however infuriating they could be.
T-Tell me, Inspector,
did you keep your promise?
Have you found justice for my Aisling?
That's why I was looking for you, as it happens.
I'd like to know more.
(chuckles) Listen, I only just arrived in the Burgue
and I know nothing about her recent life.
It's her past that interests me.
I have reason to believe
that she did in fact have a child,
and that the circumstances of that child's birth
may have had something to do with what got her killed.
Her past.
Well...
Listen, ought six,
or ought seven,
when she was at the height of her fame,
there was someone, someone she wouldn't talk about,
but I had never seen her so happy.
And then, one day, something changed.
She canceled her standing engagement at the Abbey.
She went away for some time, months in fact,
and when she came back, she was changed,
sadder somehow.
And I always wondered if...
She'd gone away to have a baby.
That was my instinct. She never said, I never asked.
She wrote a song about it.
At least I like to think it was about
a child that she'd given away.
♪ I'll fly for you ♪
♪ My child, my son ♪
BOTH: ♪ Sweet dreams to you ♪
♪ My only one. ♪
You know it.
If there was a child,
where would she go to have the baby, do you know?
She stayed with a benefactor in the Crossing.
A benefactor?
Well, things were different in those days, Inspector.
Friendships between their kind and ours were not so...
impossible.
You wouldn't happen to know the surname of this benefactor?
How could I forget?
He was the finest watchmaker in the Burgue,
at the time.
Good day to you, Inspector.
(clears throat)
Next, an unparalleled work
by Augustus Hope.
The Rising was donated by
Sir Elgenai and Lady Tripplethorne.
(applause)
The floor is open. Bidding starts
at 100,000 guilder.
100,000. Do I have 120?
140?
175?
200,000?
(gasping, murmuring)
200,000
from Mr. Leslie Boythorn.
A record, friends.
Do I have 225?
220, anyone?
For a priceless masterpiece.
210?
Well, then,
200,000 guilder.
Going once, going twice...
AGREUS: 300,000 guilder.
(murmuring)
I'm-I'm sorry, but...
do you even have that sort of money?
On hand, you mean?
AUCTIONEER: 300,000 guilder.
Going once.
Twice...
Sold!
(scattered applause)
WOMAN: Champagne?
(quiet chatter)
Everyone's staring.
Well, we could go if you'd like.
No, no.
I'm curious, did you intend to purchase that painting today?
Why did you then?
Do you find it beautiful?
Of course.
Perhaps not 300,000 guilder beautiful...
(chuckles)
I did it because I wanted to see his face.
I wanted him to know that I could take it from him.
Why?
Because he took it for granted that it should be his.
And what will you do with it?
Hang it in my home,
and then buy drapes to match it.
(laughs)
You are not at all what I expected, Mr. Agreus.
Nor are you, Miss Spurnrose,
nor are you.
(thunder rumbles)
(knocking on door)
If it's Inspector Philostrate you're looking for,
he's no longer a tenant here.
I heard he was looking for a new place to let.
That's why I'm here.
You're interested in his room then?
I'm interested why he up and left.
She didn't want to say nothing
at first, but I got it out of her.
Poor woman, you have to feel sorry for her.
Being taken in like that.
Still can't believe it, a half-blood.
Passing right under our noses.
It's a fucking disgrace.
There's more.
Go on.
She told me
he said the murdered fae, the singer,
was his mum.
Fuck me.
It all adds up. His mum, the headmaster,
they both would've known the truth.
What about Morange?
Maybe the headmaster whispered something to him in the dark.
Or maybe he's the one that clipped him back in the day.
All that Darkasher nonsense he made up
to try and cover his tracks.
By the Martyr,
it's been Philo all along.
He killed 'em to hide his secret.
-You got a man on him now? -Yeah.
Then bring him in.
(indistinct chatter)
(doorbell rings)
Can I help you, Inspector?
I remember her. I'd just started here.
Mr. Spurnrose, may he bask in the Martyr's light,
let her have what's now Miss Imogen's room.
He was a good man.
Progressive for his time.
He even arranged for a doctor
-to look after her. -Morange.
I expect you know what happened to him.
Well, there's not much more to tell.
She stayed until the baby came.
Cried for days after Morange left with him.
The father, did he ever visit?
She never spoke of him.
I had the feeling she was frightened of him.
-You've no idea who he was? -None.
Poor wee thing
had these sad little wings.
By the looks of them,
I doubt he would've been able to take to the air,
if he survived that is.
A lot of the time, half-bloods don't, not for long anyway.
I always wondered what became of him.
(knocking on door)
I'm coming.
-(pounding on door) -I'm coming!
-Good evening... -DOMBEY: Where is he?
Rycroft Philostrate,
you're under arrest.
On what charge?
Suspicion of murder. Three counts.
Murder?
Cuff him.
You don't have to wonder anymore.
Shut up,
-you fucking Critch! -(grunting)
(shouting, grunting)
♪ ♪