Stopping it is the primary goal. [ the heels of her boots click on the cobblestones, only slightly muffled by the fog and the slow pace of their advance. it's so quiet here, so devoid of London's usual chaos, that even the smallest sounds seem amplified. ] But if it does turn out to be part of another conspiracy, knowing the motive could help point us towards the greater whole.

[ never lose track of the steps of the dance, Evie, their father used to say. yours, or the other dancers'. she may be doing her best, now, to go through Father's old words with a fine tooth comb and discard those that she finds she has no use for after all, but she is sure that he was right on this point: there is always a bigger picture to keep in mind. she considers the rest of Jacob's words as they approach the bridge, turning them over in her mind. ]

You could well be right about the Templars. There are Assassins all over Britain, after all; it would be foolish to think their Templar counterparts wouldn't seek revenge--

[ and then she sees the state of the bridge, and that stalls her train of thought. not the chaos in and of itself - she has seen such scenes before, though never quite this bad - but something about the state of the abandonment here seems altogether more sinister than usual. a glance at Jacob confirms that he's seen what she has - no traces of anything leading either towards or away from the scene in front of them.

she ducks to examine the scattered goods strewn across the cobbles. ] No signs even of any looters. Like everyone on the bridge just suddenly... vanished.

[ like one of Mr. Dickens's ghost stories. Evie feels like somebody just walked over her grave. ]