Lye Street by Alan Campbell, Dave McKean Page B

gold and silver. Some boasted cut gemstones and elaborate filigree, while others were just plain.
    Carnival picked one up and examined it. It was old and tarnished. On the inside it bore an engraving:

    To E.B, with love.

    She frowned, and replaced the ring on one of the piles.
    Why would anyone hoard such trinkets?
    And why leave the roof hatch open?
    A creak from the room below grabbed her attention. Carnival froze. She listened for a long time, but heard no other sounds. The floor here was old and warped, allowing her to peer down through one of the gaps.
    An opulent study lay below the attic, lit by brass gasoliers and a fire in a black stone hearth. Dyed catskin rugs covered the floorboards. Turning her head, the angel spied a bookcase, some shelves, and a display cabinet packed with brightly-coloured stuffed birds: yellow and green mottled songbirds, red tops, canaries, and the like. A second, larger, glass-fronted case rested against the opposite wall, this also full of exotic specimens. Between the cabinets, an elderly lady sat at a desk before the window drapes. She was facing away from Carnival, peering through a lens at something on her desk. Then she set the lens down, and cocked her head to one side, listening.
    "Back again?" the old lady said. "I wondered when you'd return."
    Carnival held her breath.
    "There's no need to skulk up there in the attic." Her hair had been plaited and then woven into a grey knuckle and she wore a black frock with white frills at the cuffs and neck. Carnival could not see her face.
    The old lady went on, "I won't harm you, dear. Why don't you go back the way you came and enter through the door? I'll dim the lights so they don't hurt your eyes, then we can chat like civilised people."
    Carnival didn't know what to do. Her instincts told her to flee, but another darker part of her heart screamed for murder: A trick! A trap! Silence the crone, now, before her cries alert the Spine. This house lay too close to the temple. The attic floor would be easy enough to rip through. She could tear out the woman's neck and...
    And what?
    Where would Carnival go?
    The crone rose from her seat. "Come now, go out and walk back in through the door like a sensible girl," she said in clipped, authoritative tones. "I'll make us a nice pot of tea."
    Carnival hesitated.
    A long moment passed. Finally the old lady said, "The rings are from the dead. Marriage rings. The priests retrieve them for me before casting the corpses into the abyss. They do this because I ask them to."
    "Why?" The angel's voice sounded hoarse, strange to her own ears. She could not remember the last time she'd used it.
    The old lady grunted. "Why do I ask them? Or why do they pander to my requests?"
    Carnival said nothing.
    "I ask them," the lady said, "because there is power in such objects. I believe we should keep a little of our dead back from God: just a trinket, some intimate little thing the soul has brushed on its way through life. By doing so we maintain a link with Him, so we can understand and love Him more. The priests bring me the rings because they have no conception of their true value. And because I provide a valuable service for them."
    "What?"
    The old lady sighed. "Your memory frustrates me," she said softly. "You should know me by now, dear. We have had this conversation many, many times before." Then she turned and looked directly up at the angel. She was a striking woman with a slender jaw and high cheek bones. Her gaze met Carnival's squarely, with no hint of fear or revulsion in her violet eyes.
    Carnival thought there was something familiar about her.
    The old lady smiled kindly. "Come down and talk with me, child. Some call me a witch, but you have no reason to fear or distrust me. My name is Ruby, and I knew your mother a long time ago."
    Her mother?
    "A thousand years ago," said Ruby. "Back when Deepgate's chains were forged, I made a promise to her to look out for you; to keep you safe if I could. I can