(horse whinnies)
♪ ♪
(thunder rumbling)
(man clears throat)
(quiet, indistinct chatter)
You know I didn't do this.
What I know
is you withheld facts material to this case.
Looked me straight in the eye and fucking lied.
Because I knew what would happen if I didn't.
Don't put this on me,
you fucking half-blood piece of shit.
(indistinct murmuring)
-Take him downstairs. -Right.
(exhales)
(indistinct chatter)
Log him in.
Former Inspector Rycroft Philostrate.
GUARD: Where should I put him?
With the fucking Critch, where he belongs.
On second thought...
put him in here
with these fine gents.
MALE PRISONER: Too good for us, now, is he?
CHOPPER: What's this, then?
DOMBEY: Half-blood.
Been passing himself off as one of us.
You don't say.
(Philo grunts)
(door locks)
DOMBEY: Right, then.
Let's us go and have a smoke, shall we?
-What about them? -They'll be fine.
(prisoners speaking quietly)
-Philo! Behind you! -(Choppers grunting)
(prisoners cheering)
Fuck you!
(cheering stops)
CHOPPER: Ouch. (groans)
♪ ♪
(horse whinnies)
-Curtis. -Sir.
Thank you.
This way.
Well, Miss Imogen,
it has been, for me, a most memorable evening.
It has been for me, too.
I realized today I don't much like Louisa Pembroke.
In fact, I don't think I like most anyone I know.
(chuckles)
(panting) Thank the Martyr you're back.
Afissa, I'm fine.
Afissa.
What has got into you?
The police were here.
-What? -Your brother is in quite a state.
IMOGEN: What?
EZRA: Everywhere I turn
is scandal. Now, if it weren't bad enough
that my sister was out in public on the arm of a Puck,
I now come to learn that my father gave refuge
to a pregnant Pix tart in this very house.
Now, I can do nothing about the latter,
as it is mercifully in the past.
-Oh... -But as to your predicament, dear,
I can and I will intercede.
Must we go over this again?
Our fate is in his hands.
The price is that I be seen on his arm.
There must be a limit to what he can ask of you!
Tomorrow, I intend to negotiate an end to this madness
on your behalf, dear.
Of course.
And for that, I would be most grateful.
I'm glad to hear it.
If I didn't know any better, I'd start to wonder
if you didn't actually enjoy his company.
(chuckles)
(scoffs)
What?
Nothing, Miss.
Let's get you up these stairs.
Get you out of that dress.
...think you're gonna fucking love this, right here.
Come here, then.
(sighs)
DOMBEY: Get in there with your own kind.
Now.
CHOPPER: Get him out of here.
Lads.
(gate shuts, locks)
MALE PRISONER: Well done, mate.
(indistinct chatter)
Thanks...
for looking out for me back there.
I didn't want to see you dead just yet.
What the hell are you doing here?
I was about to ask you the same thing.
(birds singing)
I have some news.
There's a rumor that someone's been arrested for the murders.
Is that so?
I thought you'd be pleased.
You're safe now.
Am I?
Well, unless he can control the Darkasher from prison.
Or they have the wrong man.
What makes you say that?
All I know is I saw it come for me.
And that at the moment of my death,
I'll understand who summoned it.
W-Well, then we... we must both pray that
your vision was...
was mistaken.
I should go.
Aioffe?
Your husband will be back home soon.
Be careful.
(train brakes squeak)
Uh, sir, 47 stivers, how far will that take me from the city?
Only to Keranganz, if you had five more.
(sighs)
(bell clanging)
(steam hissing)
Runyon?
Runyon Millworthy?
Horatius Symes, you old rascal.
How long has it been?
I don't know, but it's an age.
(chuckles) Look at you.
Tell me, are you still singing for your supper?
The stage? Gracious no.
-I'm far more respectable these days. -Oh.
Educating the Chancellor's son at Balefire.
Good God. So what are you doing here?
I'm just back from Hullsbay;
a futile attempt to hire an Arts & Letters scholar.
-Hang on a mo... -What?
Didn't you get a rather good degree from Oppidian?
Horatius, that was a very long time ago, and I hear
the Breakspear boy is a nightmare.
Runyon... it's a lot of money.
(panting, moaning)
If they only knew the mischief unfolding
under their very noses.
Between a Longerbane and a Breakspear, no less.
The city would spontaneously burst into flame.
And we would decide what rose from the ashes.
More talk of an alliance?
My advisors are pressing me to call for a vote of no confidence
against your father within the fortnight.
And what?
-You wish me to warn him? -I wish to warn you.
Your father's regime is waning.
There's nothing you can do about that.
You must see to your future now.
And what would you have me be? A spy?
What would you like to be?
I have no interest in politics.
But politics is the price.
Of what?
Of moments like this.
As lovely as you are, I can have moments like this
with anyone I please.
Do you even know what this is?
Do you have any idea what I'm offering you?
Moments like this are the moments
that change everything.
If you're not careful, they'll pass you by.
Good day, Master Jonah.
(clicks tongue)
Your mother, I'm so sorry.
And I know how much that library meant to you. I just...
I can't imagine.
They can't really think you killed her.
(sighs)
To cover up my secret.
Can't say I blame them, it all adds up if you think about it.
The headmaster, the doctor who sheared me,
they all knew the truth about me.
Still, working with you all this time,
they should know you.
They thought they did.
I lied to them.
Sometimes there's no coming back from that.
The Swan. I like it.
And she can do... "ten knots at full steam."
Yes, and as you can see, the hold is quite spacious.
At 50 guilders a head, she'll pay for herself.
After three crossings, the rest will be profit.
May I ask you something, Mr. Agreus?
By all means.
Uh, were you yourself indentured?
For five years.
To a foundry owner in New Freehold.
The work was hard, but he was a fair man.
And how did you make your fortune
from such humble beginnings?
Guilder by guilder...
like anyone else.
You know the saying, "The first guilder is always the hardest."
Especially for...
Oh, um...
A Puck.
Especially for a Puck.
Tell me,
what does a skipjack do, exactly?
Oh, I see you've made some inquiries.
One must always know who one is
entering business with.
Well, a skipjack is one who tracks workers
that have run away.
Are you saying you...
you hunted your own kind?
Well, they signed the same contracts that I did.
Even so.
Your own kind.
I won't deny, Mr. Spurnrose,
that in all the years I plied the trade,
I never came across another skipjack that wasn't
your own kind.
But you see, I realized a long time ago
that if I was to find my way in the world of men,
I'd have to play by the rules of men.
Mm.
Um...
there's another matter I'd discuss with you
concerning my sister,
and the terms of your arrangement with her.
IMOGEN: Well, what did he say?
It is as you surmised the other day.
That is, not until you've helped him establish
a foothold in our social circle will...
will you be free of your obligation to him.
Well...
judging from the reaction to his presence at the auction,
that could be a very long time indeed.
Actually, you'll be happy to hear
Mr. Agreus has received an invitation to take tea
at the Tripplethorns' this very afternoon.
-Really? -Mm.
Apparently, they insisted on turning over the painting
he bid on personally.
It seems they're very curious to know more
about our mysterious Puck neighbor.
It could very well be that your services
are no longer be required soon enough,
if at all again, dear.
Well, we can only hope.
We can. We truly can.
(indistinct chatter, shouting)
Oi, Fleury, have you seen Vignette?
Something the matter?
She didn't come home last night.
Hmm.
So she is in custody?
That's what I just said, isn't it?
She in a lot of trouble?
Well, that's up to the magistrate.
If he's in a bad mood,
she'll get sent back where she came from.
But if she's lucky, she'll just have to pay a fine.
How big a fine? I'll pay.
That way you won't have to trouble the magistrate at all.
Come back tomorrow with 50 guilders.
Fifty?
I'll see what I can do.
Well, there you go.
-Sarge, I'm gonna have a smoke. -Yeah, all right.
Oh.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Fyfe.
I've come to see about Philo.
Ah. Over here.
Well, be assured Inspector Philostrate
has been arrested and charged.
You didn't say anything about charging him when we spoke.
Well, passing is a crime.
You're not the first decent citizen
to have been deceived like that.
Besides, that's just the tip of the iceberg.
We've got him for the killings, too.
What?
No.
M-Mr. Philostrate isn't a murderer.
I don't need to tell you that.
You've worked alongside him for years.
How much does one really know about a Critch, eh?
Yours was the piece that made the puzzle.
It all fell into place once you put us onto him
being a half-blood.
It was a lie.
-Come again? -We had a quarrel.
I made it all up to hurt him.
(pained exhale)
FLUTE: Philo.
Your landlady just filed a statement
that could potentially see you clear of this mess.
You said you didn't do these killings.
You know I didn't.
-Not Morange? -No.
-Not the headmaster? -No.
Or the Pix, Aisling Querelle?
No.
So it's not true that you're her son, then?
That was just something the Fyfe woman made up
because of a quarrel?
I need to hear it from your own mouth
that you're a man...
not some lying half-blood.
Go on, then.
Answer me.
Aisling Querelle was my mother.
I am what I am.
The Darkasher's still out there.
Enough of your half-blood shit!
I trusted you!
I believed in you!
♪ ♪
(bell tolling)
I understand Master Symes left you
at Chapter 39 of Elomia.
Open it and let's begin.
No. I don't think I'm in the mood.
(chuckles) Be that as it may,
I've been brought in to tutor you,
and I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist.
You're in no position to insist on anything.
I can tell from your shoes.
You need this job. Hmm? Badly.
Which means you'll confirm my attendance to Master Symes,
and report that I'm making splendid progress.
And if I don't?
Well, I'll tell Symes you're a shite tutor
and to get me someone else.
Are we clear?
Good. I'll see you here tomorrow.
Oh, don't look so glum.
Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it.
-I know your type. -(door creaks)
Skating along on Daddy's wealth
and good name without a thought as to how
that story would end.
I've been brought in to equip you with a little wisdom
so you might vaguely become a more tolerable human being.
Take it or leave it, but don't think
you can pay me to lie for you.
Because I don't care about your father.
And I'm not afraid of destitution.
But I think you are.
So, it's time to look to your own future, boy,
if you're to have one at all.
You're not like my other tutors, are you?
If only you knew
what I'd seen and done.
Good. Chapter 39.
All I'm saying is it makes us look bad.
One of us a killer.
Well, imagine the trial.
They're gonna drag us all through the mud
-for not catching onto him sooner. -Exactly.
Don't know about you boys, but I've worked too long
and too fucking hard to see my reputation undone
by one bad apple.
Well, there's nothing to be done, is there?
-Man has to have his day in court. -Does he?
What are you getting at?
Well, what if, say,
he tries to escape, and gets shot for his troubles?
-Oh... -All right, all right, all right.
Maybe...
the horror of what he has done gets to him,
and he hangs himself in his cell.
It could happen.
Now, either way, no messy trial.
Let it percolate.
VIGNETTE: Philo.
I just wanted to say
you did your mother proud back there.
I just wish I could have given her justice.
I was getting so close.
I always wondered who my father was.
If he was soldier, a poet.
Now I know he was just a piece of shit.
You think it was your father who did these killings?
It's the only thing that makes sense.
They all knew about me.
His half-fae bastard.
Don't say that.
He's the bastard.
One with a fuck lot to lose to go as far as to kill
three innocent people just to protect his own reputation.
What I can't understand is why
he didn't come after me first.
Why didn't that thing kill me in the tunnel the other night?
Unless...
Unless what?
Unless he didn't know who I was.
That's why he needed their livers.
So he could read their secrets and follow them to me.
(scoffs)
Then it's not over.
Sooner or later, he's gonna send that thing after you, too.
Unless they hang me first.
BERWICK: Philo.
Berwick.
Watch yourself.
Dombey's out to make sure you don't see a trial.
He's gonna try something.
You're a good man.
Sorry I couldn't do more for you, mate.
I know.
♪ ♪
The Rising.
Well, what do you think, Fergus?
Well, it's not how I'd spend 300,000 guilder.
But then you're the master here, not I.
(exhales)
Right.
Where to hang it?
Perhaps a woman's eye would be of some help.
I was out for a stroll, and I saw you bringing it in.
A woman's eye would be most welcome.
IMOGEN: Just up a little on the right.
(church bells ringing in distance)
Perfect.
AGREUS: Thank you. It's perfect there.
IMOGEN: I think so.
What was he trying to say, I wonder?
The painter.
That we're all poised somewhere between heaven and hell,
I suppose.
Do you think she's meant to be an angel, then?
Well, she's got the wings for it.
IMOGEN: And he a demon?
AGREUS: He's certainly got the horns for it.
(laughs softly)
But he's an odd sort of demon, though, isn't he?
You know, pulling heavenward.
IMOGEN: Yes, it is topsy-turvy, isn't it?
Maybe he's not a demon after all.
But those horns. What else could he be?
A rescuer.
From what?
The ordinary.
As if you, Miss Spurnrose, would know the first thing
about being ordinary.
What's that?
(clears throat)
This... (laughs) This is another
of my prized possessions.
An electric lamp.
How does it work?
Allow me.
(liquid pouring)
(chuckles) What are you doing?
It's called a battery.
Now, that's just water that's been distilled from steam.
But this is the magic ingredient.
Huh.
AGREUS: Copper sulfate.
Huh.
(sizzling)
And now what?
Patience.
(laughs)
JONAH: I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.
You know, I told myself you were just another conquest,
like any other...
...but I walked away feeling as though
it was I who had been conquered.
I've spent all day asking myself why.
Something's changed in me.
You've taken me to the edge of something
I can no longer ignore.
What's that?
The future.
I-I'd never bothered to imagine it before.
It... it didn't belong to me. It belonged to...
prophecies and broken promises and...
Until the day a stranger came to Parliament.
She was nothing when she walked in.
No one expected anything of her.
But within five minutes, she brought my father,
the Chancellor of the Burgue, to his knees.
And?
Aren't you going to ask?
Ask what?
The question you came here to ask me.
Why?
-Chaos. -Chaos?
(laughs): Oh, yes.
Chaos is the great hope of those in the shadows.
Chaos to a man like your father creates opportunity
for people like you and me.
Regimes fall,
old worlds burn.
And we decide what rises from the ashes.
One step at a time.
(electricity buzzing)
It's very pretty.
But, honestly, doesn't a gas lamp
do much the same but with less fuss?
Well, that may be the case now, but,
I mean, someday, the streets will be lined with wires
bringing electricity from distant steam plants.
There will be no smoke, no accidental fires.
You'll just throw a switch,
and the light will chase away the darkness.
Or at least that's how I like to think
(chuckles): that things will someday be.
Being forward-thinking is a good thing.
Sometimes it's a necessary thing.
Is that how you do it?
Ignore the looks and the slights?
By imagining the day
when the sight of a Puck on Finistere Crossing
attracts notice not for the cut of his coat
but for that of his heart?
And I thought you deemed me vain.
Ridiculous, even.
No.
I did at first, I admit.
But now I see how wrong I was.
You are quite unlike anyone I have ever met, Mr. Agreus.
♪ ♪
(exhales heavily)
♪ ♪
(thunder rumbling)
CABAL: This was brought here from Puyan
by the prior who founded this place.
He salvaged it from the Great Hoff...
when the Burguish Army razed it.
(water dripping)
CABAL: He wanted to make sure the old ways
would never be forgotten here.
The Hidden One brought you to this place
because He has a purpose for you.
Tell me.
Well, first, you must prove yourself to Him.
(muffled protests)
(frightened grunting)
Oh!
(shuddering)
FOREMAN: Oh, no. No.
(panting)
CABAL: They've raised their hands against us for too long.
Now it's our turn.
Blood for blood.
(Quill grunts softly)
FOREMAN: No, please.
I... Please.
Please. I've got a family.
Please. (pants, moans)
(Quill panting, grunting)
FOREMAN: Oh. Oh, no...
Oh.
(whimpers)
Oh.
(Quill straining)
FOREMAN: Please.
I've got a wife. I've got, I've got chil...
-(grunts) -(body thuds)
(panting)
(thunder rolling)
WINETROUT: The farm workers in Allora have gone on strike.
Send in the Guard, what else?
Polls from the third ward show Wootenvale
within striking distance.
Oh, schedule me an appearance at his next rally.
See if we can't close the gap. What else?
-Longerbane's coalition... -Good news, Winetrout.
If there is any.
The constabulary has a suspect in custody
for the recent spate of murders.
There we are. See? That wasn't that hard.
Culprit is a half-blood, it turns out.
The killings were to keep his secret.
The murdered Pix was his own mother, I'm told.
-Sordid business. -Aisling somebody--
A songstress of some sort.
That's the first I've heard of a murdered Pix.
Well, why would you have?
Uh-- Yes, indeed.
When does he hang?
Sooner the better, I'd say.
I was feeling like I'd finally found a place in this city.
That's when I saw the sign.
Treasures of Tirnanoc.
Everything I'd lived and breathed for,
that I'd spent my entire life trying so hard to protect...
put into glass boxes
for a bunch of idiots to gawk at.
Like some fucking circus sideshow.
(sniffles)
Do you ever think about Tirnanoc?
All the time.
I wish I'd never left you.
Oh, Philo...
...how did we get so lost?
We're not.
We're found.
DOMBEY: Transfer order...
for Rycroft Philostrate.
-They're coming for you. -I know.
(keys jangling)
-No, what... -Stay with me.
(lock clicks, door opens)
-Stay with me. -Philo...
-Stay with me. -(sniffles, whimpers)
-Stay with me. -Get off him.
-Get off him. Get off him. -(softly): Stay with me.
Let go of him. Let go of him!
-Please, Philo. -I love you.
(sobs, stammers)
Wait.
Get your hands off him. Come back.
(sobbing): Wait. Wait.
Please.
Where are you taking him? Philo...
(sobbing): Philo.
(Vignette sobbing)
No...
(sobbing)
(Philo breathing heavily)
(crow cawing)
(heavy breathing)
(loud cawing)
(leaves crunching)
(footsteps echoing)
(shackles clinking)
(cawing)
(wings flapping)