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None of his few other contacts, painstakingly gathered over the decades, had attended this Market. He was lingering not because he was enjoying this Shadow Market, but because he remembered enjoying Markets once. They had felt like an escape, but Brother Zachariah hardly remembered the wish to escape from the City of Bones, where he belonged.
Always in the back of his mind, cold as a tide waiting to wash all other things away, were the voices of his brothers. They were urging him home. Brother Zachariah turned under the glitter of diamond-paned windows.
The normal Nephilim are bad enough. I see him.
The vampire with his hand up looked fifteen years old at most, and the other like a young woman about nineteen, but that told Zachariah nothing. Zachariah still looked young too. It was unusual for a strange Downworlder to want his attention. Helloooo, Brother Mackariah.
Brother Zachariah asked the boy. He felt what would once have been surprise, and now was at least intrigue. Can I be of any use to you? There was a burn scar at the base of his throat, where a cross might lie. I believe we have a mutual friend, said Brother Zachariah. He is a colleague who always has more dealings with Shadowhunters than I approve of. The Silent Brothers, speaking mind to mind, had no need for language, but sometimes Zachariah missed his.
There had been nights—in the Silent City it was always night—when he could not remember his own name, but he could remember the sound of his mother or his father or his betrothed speaking Mandarin. His betrothed had learned some of the language for him, in the time when he had thought he would live to marry her.
Since you do not appear to care for Shadowhunters, and you have little interest in our mutual connection, Brother Zachariah observed, why approach me? Why not go to yourInstitute? Nobody sneered like a vampire, and this vampire was particularly adept.
The way you put that was not particularly tactful, Brother Zachariah felt bound to point out. New York has always been a place of heightened Downworlder activity.
The lights of this city work on people as if we are all werewolves howling for an electric moon. A warlock tried to destroy the world here once, before my time. The leader of my clan made a disastrous experiment with drugs here, against my advice, and made the city her slaughter ground.
The Whitelaws of the New York Institute understood us, and we them. The Whitelaws died defending Downworlders from the people who now occupy their Institute. Of course the Clave did not consult us when they made us the punishment of the Lightwoods.
We do not have any dealings with the New York Institute now. He had fought in the Uprising when a band of renegade youths rose up against their own leaders, and against peace with the Downworld. He had not approved of the Lightwoods and Hodge Starkweather being banished to the New York Institute, but the word was that the Lightwoods had settled down with their three children and were truly remorseful for their past actions.
The pain and power struggles of the world seemed very far away, in the Silent City. It had not occurred to Zachariah that the Downworlders would resent the Lightwoods so much they might decline their aid even when Shadowhunter help was truly needed.
Perhaps it should have. Downworlders and Shadowhunters have a long, complicated history full of pain, and much of the pain has been the fault of the Nephilim, Brother Zachariah admitted. Yet through the ages, they have found a way to work together.
I know that when they followed Valentine Morgenstern, the Lightwoods did terrible things, but if they are truly repentant, could younot forgive them? Given the least excuse, the Lightwoods would lay waste to my clan. He had seen her weep over the Circle and its effects. Brother Zachariah had no reason to support the Lightwoods, but everyone deserved a second chance if they wanted that chance enough.
Say they would not, suggested Brother Zachariah.
Would it not be preferable to reestablish relations with the Institute rather than hope to catch a Silent Brotherat the ShadowMarket? This is not the first stratagem I have been forced to employ when I required an audience with Shadowhunters.
Five years ago I had coffee with a visiting Ashdown. I believe that if I fed on one of them I would nod off halfway through. A cold weight of disapproval made itself known from his silent brethren, like stones being pressed against his mind. Zachariah was allowed a great deal of latitude for a Silent Brother, but his frequent visits to the Shadow Markets and his annual meeting with a lady on Blackfriars Bridge were already testing the limits of what could be allowed.
He could not risk missing that meeting. Anything but that. The Silent Brothers are forbidden to interfere with the affairs of the outside world. Whatever your problem is, said Brother Zachariah, I strongly urge youto consult with yourInstitute. He bowed his head and began to turn away.
Brother Zachariah turned sharply back to the two vampires. Where didyouhearabout the yin fen? A large quantity of yin fen is on its way to the city, on board a ship carrying cargo from Shanghai, Ho Chi Minh, Vienna, and Idris itself. Will you help me or not? The fact a Downworlder with conservative views had heard about it was sheer luck. I will help you, said Brother Zachariah.
But we must consult with the New York Institute. If you wish I can go with you to the Institute and explain matters. The Lightwoods will appreciate the information, and you offering it. This is an opportunity to improve relations between the Institute and all the DownworldersinNewYork. Raphael did not look convinced, but after a moment he nodded.
They would not listen to a vampire, but I suppose it is possible they will listen to a Silent Brother. If they or even the Clave refuse to believe me, then what will you do?