The Marquis spent the next week tracking down and finding answers to his questions. It wasn't too hard to find what he wanted. He knew the right sort of people to ask. He had to be careful not to ask the same people too many questions. The last thing he needed was for some other schemer to put two and two together and figure out his plans. He spoke with several folks at the Floating Market and made a few other inquiries with other contacts. Most had heard the same rumors and nonsense that he already knew. But these initial inquires confirmed that he really needed to speak with Old Bailey, and better yet, no one had ever believed the stories that Old Bailey told.
The Marquis already knew that Old Bailey was surprisingly useful when it came to these sorts of matters. Of course, you had to put up with bird shit and terrible jokes, but that was a small price to pay for such esoteric information. Another advantage of dealing with Old Bailey was that his ambitions went only as far as his birds and rooftops. De Carabas could be certain that Old Bailey wouldn't try to outmaneuver him. And, best of all, the Marquis de Carabas was still owed a favor from the old man. A big favor. After making the tiring climb to Old Bailey's latest rooftop aerie, the Marquis de Carabas approached the barmy bird man. "What do you know, Old Bailey, about the practice of hiding your life somewhere?" the Marquis asked.
Old Bailey frowned and said "Where'd you heard of such a thing? Can't be done can it? I mean it's the sort of a thing I heard about in a fairy tale the once." He told the Marquis the fairy tale he remembered.
"See, this fella, he was bad, you know, evil like. And all the brave young lads went to have a go at killing him but no matter what he never died. Nope they'd poke and stab and light fires to him and such nonsense, but there was never a scratch, nope not a one. And he was some sort of a king or emperor or some other of boss-thing, cause he can't die. So he needs a wife, cause what else does an unkillable king want? Right? I coulda told 'im, waste of time, women. Trouble and misery is all they brings, but you can't go telling a king such things, and not when he's the sort that don't die, even more full of himself then." He was really warming up to his tale now. He paused and drew a deep breath before continuing.
"Well it's gotta be a princess, cause kings don't marry just anyone, right. Anyways, I don't know why, you think he'd have lots of time on his hands this king, but he decides to send some young fella to go find this princess, and of course, he don't want the princess the next castle over, it's got to be the one who's trapped across the ocean at the end of the earth with dragons and suchlike. So this young fella, he's good looking of course, because they always are in the stories, it's how you know he's the hero. So this fella he goes and braves all the different kinds of hell and finds the princess and on the ride back to the king, what do you think happens, well that what always does, I tell you, the princess and the young fellow fall in love cause neither of them has the sense god gave a pigeon." Old Bailey attempted to change the subject to just how much sense a pigeon has and how it compares with other, nobler birds, but after an impatient gesture from the Marquis, he returned to the story.
"Right, right, the young ones, they're in love. So they thinks what a shame, gotta kill the king, but no one can do it, right, cause he's unkillable. Well somehow the girl, she knows the kings secret, which makes one wonder how she heard it in the first place and just how stupid this king was, cause he shoulda known not to send some handsome young'un to go pick up his girlie, but that's what immortality will get you, carelessness. Right, well the princess she tells this handsome boy that you can't kill the king cause his life's been hidden away, but it's on the other side of this ocean, in a big tree which grows around a chest that has a duck inside that has an egg in it. There's a bunch of other horrible killing stuff to stop you from getting to this egg, cause if you cracks it, so cracks the king, right? I can't remember all the nasty monsters and such, the usual bad things. And the boy, cause he's a good looking hero type, he goes and fights all the nastiness and breaks the eggs and king dies and now the young lovers can be married, which don't sound like no such prize if you asks me." Old Bailey heaved a sigh after finishing his rambling tale, and then turned to stir a foul smelling mess in his stewpot.
The Marquis de Carabas had been intensely bored during this ridiculous story, but knew he was close now. "I had heard, that there was a way to create such an egg. That one could hide their life inside so in the event something unfortunate befell them, the egg could be broken and one's life restored" said the Marquis. Old Bailey frowned and picked his nose contemplatively.
"Yeah, I heard somewhat similar, but that requires a Deathseer and you just don't find one of them at every Market now do you? I heard about one, not so long ago, lived under Dublin, a man too, which is unusual, mostly girls that bear that curse. Course, the girls are usually mad then, but they all seem to be anyways, right? And the male Deathseers is trouble too, cause they're right bastards, killers usually, them what does it for fun. The girls is just crazy, but they see how you die and if they ain't too nutters sometimes they can heal. But it's the Deathseers that can hide a life away. Course, they gotta be pretty powerful, takes a fair bit out of a body, hiding someone's life away. Matter of fact, Deathseers can't actually hide their own lives away, seems sort of a mess, but maybe they wouldn't want to do something so odd. Not afraid of death them Deathseers." Old Bailey stopped to cough then, hacking something up, which he delicately spit into a nearby jar, making the Marquis shudder with disgust. After a quick wipe of the mouth, the old man continued on.
"Anyhow, if you want to do something daft as hide your life away, first you need some sort of a box, precious metal's best, silver's always good, but not iron, that's always a bad thing for supernatural dealings. Takes some gravedirt, the good kind, gotta have bones and bits left in it, proper decayed stuff, not just whatever you can skim off the tops. Needs a bit of the Deathseer's blood, not a whole lot, thimbleful or so, don't think there's any exact measurement. Well, then the person what wants the egg, adds their blood to the dirt, gotta be about enough dirt to fill an egg, needs to be more blood, enough to make all the dirt clump together like, mush it together and make it sorta egg shaped. Well the Deathseer holds the bloody lump in their hands and the other one, him who wants to hide his life, he puts his hands over top and the Deathseer does something, whatever it is they do and if it's done on a new moon in the autumn they should end up with an egg with the person's life inside, or more likely than not, a bloody mess, right?" Old Bailey broke out in a choking sort of laugh at this little joke, but upon seeing the Marquis unimpressed face, he continued.
"Okay, right, well it's a dark sort of a deal, no matter what. Can use it if you die, just break the egg and your life'll come back, but you still gotta figure a way to fix the body you died in. Just brings your life back, don't fix whatever it was that killed you, awful bit of trouble if you lost your head, right? And of course it's all fun and games till you go about the thing and maybe it's not the picnic you think coming back from the dead, they never tell you how that bit goes, right? And if you're dead, who's gonna go cracking the egg for you? Need someone to trust, and they gotta take the damn thing where your body's at, could be already dug down deep. Better hope the one holding the egg gets to your body before the worms. Or the flies, both's trouble." Old Bailey took another deep breath as he finished this latest monologue. He wiped his face with a dirty rag and grinned at the Marquis. "Now me, I stays away from such dark and damp underground things. Better to stay up here with the birds, more information to find and share with the light" Old Bailey smiled at the thought of his rooftop and birds.
"Hmm, yes, well really, you've been most helpful. Here, take this, I feel it should be an adequate recompense for this fascinating bit of folklore" said the Marquis. From deep within his coat, he drew out a handful of Tube maps, a nearly full bag of birdseed and ½ of an early printing of Darwin's On the Origin of Species. He presented these to Old Bailey and spun around to go. As he descended the side of the building, he heard Old Bailey call after him, "Don't you go thinking you outta try such foolishness, hard to find a Deathseer anyway, and you're like to end up in a bad way putting life in a duck's egg, damn fool birds they are."
The Marquis de Carrabas just smiled to himself. Two independent sources had confirmed the rumors he had heard, and he was confident he knew what to do now. All that remained was seeing to his innocent Deathseer and testing the extent of her abilities. He would build up her trust and curiosity. Just a little careful manipulation and he would possess a thing of extreme power. But why stop there? Better yet, advertise her ability to a select sort of London Below society, the sort with power and wealth and the need to store their life elsewhere. Offering such a service would indeed be a lucrative new line of work. The Marquis was so pleased with himself he actually whistled a bit as he climbed back down to street level. It was Thursday, now just to wait for the girl to return. He was confident she would. She was scared, but her hunger to be special was obvious. The Marquis would show her just how truly special she was.
Molly spent the entire week desperately trying to convince herself the encounter along the Embankment had been some sort of dream, possibly the result of being hung-over. The fact that she started to sense death again didn't help these attempts. A dark mist seemed to flow from every person she met. This was not the sort of unique, notice-me talent Molly had hoped for. She agonized about whether or not she should try and tell Rebecca. On the one hand, meeting a possibly deranged individual with secret knowledge of a mysterious death talent did sound like something Rebecca would enjoy. On the other, Molly wasn't sure Rebecca would believe her. Molly was fairly certain that if she tried to explain things to her friend, Rebecca would run away to find less crazy friends, likely ones with a better wardrobe. Besides, the Marquis didn't seem like the type who would welcome company. After a week of agonizing over her choices, Molly decided to be brave and ventured toward where she had last seen the stranger who called himself a Marquis.
The weather had changed for the worse, there was a light drizzle and a chill in the air. There were few people taking leisurely walks along the Embankment today. Molly walked toward where she had spoken with the Marquis. She almost hoped that he wouldn't be there, and she could go back to her tiny room and curl up in bed with a book. The drizzling rain was blowing and soaking her shoulders. She was certain that her nose was red and likely to start dripping soon. Up ahead, she saw a dark figure huddled underneath a lamppost. As she drew closer, she could see that it was the Marquis de Carabas, once again looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. He was clearly unimpressed by the rain, spinning silver coins back and forth between his hands. He waited till Molly reached him, and then theatrically spun the coins away into some secret pocket before addressing her.
"Well, how marvelous to see you again my dear. Come along, let's find someplace a bit drier, we have much to discuss." He smiled again and beckoned for her to follow him. Molly was frozen for a second, unsure of herself again, when he reached back, lightly took her elbow and began to steer her along. He walked briskly away from the Embankment, darting toward smaller streets and alleys. Soon, they had taken so many twists and turns that Molly wasn't sure where they were. She doubted that she could find her way back to the Embankment, or any other part of London she recognized. Alarm bells began to ring in Molly's mind and she was about to try and run away when he steered her into a small café.
Molly couldn't tell the name of the café, it was in a foreign language she couldn't place. It was small, but well lit, with random chairs and tables haphazardly crowding against each other. Mismatched glasses and plates were stacked in a tall cabinet along the back wall. A little old woman sat on a high stool behind the counter. She looked up as the pair entered. The old woman smiled a toothless grin and waved at the Marquis as he entered. Molly felt a little better now. The Marquis guided them toward a pair of armchairs tucked in a corner. Molly sat just as the old woman hopped down from the stool and began bustling behind the counter. The old woman was truly tiny; standing up her chin just reached the counter. She placed a slightly battered teapot on a tray, along with some chipped mugs, a handful of teabags and several nondescript pastries. She beamed once more at the Marquis as she set the tray down on the table in front of him and Molly. The old woman said something in another language to the Marquis, and he smiled back at her and kissed the back of her hand. This made the old woman giggle like a schoolgirl as she returned to the counter.
Molly watched the whole exchange silently, once more wondering what the true nature of the Marquis was. He turned back to the table and shuffled through the teabags. He grimaced at the choices, but finally selected a bag of Darjeeling before gesturing at Molly to do the same. She was relieved to see Earl Grey, her favorite, and set about preparing her mug.
"Cream? Sugar?" inquired the Marquis.
"No thank you, I like it black" she said.
The Marquis smiled at this as he languidly stirred cream and sugar into his mug. Molly noticed that he always moved in a smooth, deliberate fashion, really rather like a big cat. He took a sip from his mug and then began to speak. "Now Molly, my dear, is this not a far better place to sit and discuss? You needn't be so worried about me, I'm not about to drag you off to my villainous lair and perform unspeakable acts upon you." Molly felt herself blush and giggled nervously. He continued, "In all honesty, I can't claim to be a very good person, but I give you my word as a liar that no harm shall befall you when we are together. Now, I promised to tell you more about your gift and so I shall."
The rain began to fall harder and beat a soft pattern on the café windows. Molly sipped her tea and nibbled on the pastry. She really had no idea what sort of pastry it was, but it was delicious. The Marquis wove a tale about London Below. He explained that it was a place for people, things and time that fell through the cracks. Most of the normal residents of London were unable to see those who lived Below. Only those who were about to slip from London Above or had some other powerful gift could see those who lived Below. Molly started a bit when she realized that the old woman had seen the Marquis. "Is she part of London Below?" Molly asked.
"No, well not really. Typically, you can only belong to one or the other. There are some who live a sort of half-life between the two, but it's usually a miserable existence. The proprietress of this café manages to make it work by operating this café which serves anyone who can find it. Some residents of the Underside do enjoy making use of the many fine establishments and services the above world has to offer. Madam Illeyna comes from a long line of enterprising witches, and when she moved here she found a niche waiting to be filled" said the Marquis.
The Marquis explained that Molly's gift was why she had been able to see him. "In all truth Molly, the gift you have been given will be a difficult one to deal with here in London. You are a Deathseer and as your power grows, it may drive you mad. Better you come and join me in London Below where it's easier to deal with such things."
Molly recoiled at the notion. She started to stand up, but the Marquis quickly laid a hand on her arm and spoke. "It's just a suggestion, something you may wish to consider in the future, Molly. Relax, you're alarming the other customers."
Molly looked across the café. A man and woman had entered sometime while the Marquis had been speaking. They were looking at her strangely, then quickly looked back down at their food.
"What about them? Are they part of London Below?" Molly asked.
The Marquis sniffed, "Certainly not."
"Can they see you?"
"No."
"So they think I am sitting here talking to myself?"
The Marquis smirked again, "Yes, now sit back down and allow me to continue." Molly sat back down and did her best not to look crazy.
"When you look at people, you see their death, correct?" asked the Marquis. Molly nodded. He looked genuinely curious, "What does it look like?" he asked.
Molly took a deep breath and whispered, "Um, sort of like black smoke, I guess. Everyone has one, kind of like a ghost following them around."
"Can you tell when someone is about to die?" the Marquis asked next.
"Well, when I was just four, I thought I knew how my teacher was going to die. She died, but when my dad told me, I already knew she was dead and that she was hit by a car. Actually my dad sent me to a therapist for years; she convinced me I was making it all up. I forgot all about it till you mentioned it last week. I started seeing the dark mist again, but I'm not sure how I knew people were about to die."
The Marquis leaned back and thought for a moment. He finished his pastry and brushed the crumbs away before speaking again. "Look closely at the blackness Molly; it is my understanding that Deathseers usually can see images of imminent death around the soon to be deceased. Perhaps if you focus on that, the skill will return." He looked out the window. The rain had stopped. He stood up quickly and took Molly's hand. "Come along, I will take you back to the Embankment now. Think about what I have told you, concentrate on your sense of death, this may help you become stronger."
He threw some silver coins on the table and pulled her back out onto the street. They walked back in silence. Now that the rain had stopped, things seemed to look more familiar to Molly. She felt more at ease with the Marquis, though she still knew all of this was a bad idea. Back at the Embankment, he told her to come back again, in another week's time if she wished to learn more.