All language subtitles for Carnival.Row.S01E06.REPACK.720p.WEBRip.x264-SKGTV

Took his liver.

Just like the first two.

Where are we on them?

Have you sorted out if they had
any kind of relationship?

No, sir.

They didn't know each other.

Been on the case from the start,
he's got nothing.

He was a good man, Morange.

Never took so much as a stiver
for the work he did for us.

Saw it as his civic duty.

Oh, true enough, sir,

but with respect,
there were rumors...

- Rumors?
- Word was that he saw it

as his "civic duty"
to do other jobs, too.

- Jobs most doctors
wouldn't touch.
- Such as?

Abortions... reconstructions...

What, convicts looking to have

their brands removed,
that sort of thing?

And Pix looking to pass.

Getting their ears bobbed,
their wings sheared.

Happens more often
than any of us

would care to think, I'm afraid.

Well?

Philo?

Sir.

I said it's your case.

If there's a connection between
the victims, then find it.

Yes, sir.

Morning, Father.

"Hardtackers tack Harder

with Longerbane Daughter
at the helm."

Clever. Though I'm not sure
I know exactly what it means.

It means she turned
the tables on me.

That's what it means.

I wish you hadn't been there
to see it.

Ah, you make too much
of it, Father.

Now you sound like your mother.

Always trying to handle me.

Like I'm a bottle
with a bad cork

that might pop off at any moment

and take someone's eye out.

You've always taken after her,
even as a boy.

The irony is, of course,
that... it's me

she'd rather you took after.

To that end, I thought I might
come watch you

in Parliament again today.

- There's no session today.
- Oh.

Longerbane's body
is lying in state.

His daughter will be receiving
condolences from his supporters.

- Really?
- I know.

I needn't have allowed it,
considering what he did to you.

But remember one
of the first rules of politics:

magnanimity in victory
goes a long way

towards disarming one's enemies.

Very wise, Father.

Seeing as I have
little to do today,

I thought I might go
to the country.

Perhaps we could
go riding together?

You well know I would greatly
enjoy that,

but I really should attend
to my studies.

Master Symes has been amassing
an army of tutors on my behalf.

I'm so sorry.

Thank you.

I promise to do my best

to carry forth
my father's legacy.

I pray so.

He was the only man brave enough

to tell the truth
about what these...

Critch are doing to our city.

Never give up the faith.
He stood for all of us.

Morning.

Hello.

Who's that?

A gent from last night.

I do them all, actually.

Soon as the light's up.
Is that strange?

Not for you.

He almost looks... grateful.

Mm. Some of them are.

Because you made them feel
young again for the night.

That they don't have to hate
their own bodies.

Some of them are just pigs,

but I sketch them, too,
all the same.

For some reason when you get
their faces down on paper,

they're easier to forget.

There's more in there
than I care to count.

Maybe one day
when I've given up the life,

I'll have a show.

"A Whore's Revenge,"
I'll call it.

I missed you.

Me, too.

There's been another killing.

Maybe there is a connection
between the victims.

Maybe there's not.

Could be they were just
unlucky enough to cross paths

with whoever this maniac is.

Sir, I tracked down a cabbie

who drove Morange home
last night.

Says he picked him up
on the Row.

What was he doing on the Row?

Driver couldn't say.

Only that he picked him up
outside a Pix brothel.

Morange?

G-Go check it out.

Fucking case just gets uglier
by the day.

We'll crack it, sir.

Just because Philo
couldn't find a connection

between the victims
doesn't mean there isn't one.

Show us your face!
We seek you in darkness.

Show us your face!

Oh, Hidden One!

Show us your face!
Our flesh deceives us!

Show us your face.

We seek you in darkness.
Show us your face.

Show us your face.

This has just come for you
from the dressmakers.

I thought as much.

I've agreed to
accompany Mr. Agreus

to the charity auction
at the museum this afternoon.

It seems he aims to salve
my humiliation with a gift.

Lay it out then, let's see it.

Huh.

He certainly spared no expense.

The color suits you well, too.

What is it?

Please, sit down.

Ezra...

you're scaring me.

Do you remember Dr. Morange?

Father's friend?

He's been killed.

What happened?

The same that happened

to the headmaster the other day.

Another murder?

What is this city coming to?

I wonder what Mr. Philostrate
can tell us about it.

Has he come down?

He's not here.

He left just after midnight.

One can hear all the comings
and goings in this house,

the walls are paper-thin.

They're saying it was someone
from the constabulary

was killed.
I trust he's all right.

Good day. To you both.

Good day, Mr. Grayson.

A word if you please, Mrs. Fyfe?

Of course, Mr. Bagstock.

Please be advised that
unless this situation

comes to an immediate stop,

I will be vacating my room
at month's end.

I'm sorry, what situation?

Oh, don't play me
for a fool, Mrs. Fyfe.

I'd long suspected
something was afoot,

and last night I saw you
leaving his room

with my own eyes.

An old widow parading about

like some kind of harlot.

I may be an old widow,
but I am a grown woman

in charge of my own life.

Very well, then.

I'll expect my deposit returned
expeditiously upon my departure.

Mr. Bagstock?

Be out by the end of the day.

If I might have a moment alone
with my father...

Of course.

Everyone, please leave.

Miss Longerbane needs
a moment alone.

Not you, Jenila.

Unpin this.
Terrible headache.

Yes, miss.

God's noose.
I thought it would never end!

So many of them.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

Thank you so much...

for your kind words.

Hold still while I unpin it.

Oh, was I at all convincing?

Asking for a moment alone
was a nice touch.

Mm.

Did you think so, Father?

Don't look like that.

Huh.

Who's there?

Answer, or I'll call the guards.

You're Jonah Breakspear.

I'm sorry for the intrusion,
Miss Longerbane.

What are you doing here?

I came only to pay my respects.

To the man who kidnapped you?

Liar.

Said the girl who just
cleared the room

so she could pretend
to grieve her father.

Come closer.

Is this close enough?

Suppose it was inevitable
that our paths would cross

sooner or later.

I have to admit, you're not
at all what I expected.

What did you expect?

Well, certainly not someone
with such evident affection

for their Critch handmaid,
for one thing.

Given your performance
in Parliament yesterday.

Of course it was a performance.

I don't like the word "Critch."

Is that so?

It's a good slur,
as far as slurs go.

But even so,
as my father's daughter,

that performance would've been
one I would've

been a fool not to give.

And you are, self-evidently,
no fool.

Despite the rumors.

Rumors?

That the reason your father's
kept you sequestered away

all these years is because
you had a difficult birth,

and came into this world
a simpleton.

The birth was difficult.
It cost my mother her life.

And it made my father,
quite naturally,

overprotective of his
only daughter.

Well, whatever the reason,

it sounds like you had
a lonely childhood.

I suppose it was.

A little girl, no friends

but for the volumes
in her library.

No amusements but for
the litany of secrets

drifting up from the smoky room
down the hall,

where the most important men
in the city whisper and plot.

It's no wonder you learned
to lie so convincingly.

And how to discern lies.

Such as?

I know my father didn't
kidnap you.

Who else, if not my father's
fiercest foe?

Who can say for certain?
Perhaps his dearest love.

I haven't the foggiest idea
what you mean by that.

Oh, I think you do.

I think you knew before
you even asked the question.

Why, Master Jonah,

is that fear
in your pretty eyes?

Are you scared of poor little
Sophie Longerbane?

Should I be?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

We could be friends
if we had a mind to.

I suspect we have much
in common.

Oh?

The two sole heirs
of the city's two

most important families.

Overprotected.

Chronically underestimated.

There's only one difference
I can see.

What's that?

I am free of my parents.

Good day, Master Jonah.

Mr. Philostrate.

Home for a bath
and a change of clothes, I see.

Let's make a real go of this.

The two of us.

You can give this room up,
keep it if you like.

But stay upstairs with me.

I'd like that.
Don't think I wouldn't.

But I don't think I can give you
the things you want.

You already have.
More than you realize.

You're still young.

You can have a family,
but not with me.

Who said anything about that?

We can work all that out later,

- but right now...
- I need you to listen to me.

Please.

The other day when you said
I was hiding something,

you were right.

Tell me.

Whatever it is, it won't matter.

These murders,
they're all connected.

To me.

You said one was
your old headmaster,

but the others?

The doctor who was killed
last night,

I think it's because...

he's the one who did it to me.

Did what?

She brought me to him
when I was a baby.

The fae.

The singer?

Yeah.

She was...

She was my mother.

I don't understand.

What you're saying doesn't
make any sense.

I'm half-fae, Portia.

From when my wings were shorn.

If this is a joke,
it's not funny.

It's the truth.

Now you know.

Get out.

Get out.

Take your things
and get out now.

731.

Again?

It's my lucky number.

I'll see you there. I love you.

I love you.

I'm going to seal the library.

- Sergeant.
- Sykes.

What are you doing here?

I just needed a place to think.

Finally caught up with you,
did it?

Philo.

Oh, you think I don't know?

How'd you find out?

I can smell the fae
in you, even now.

Like I told you,
the wolf fades slowly.

You never said anything.

What the fuck is there to say?

It is what it is.

All you can do is keep
your mouth shut and move on.

I told Portia.

Why?

Oh, I don't know...

- I thought... I don't know!
- What?

I just, I thought maybe she'd...

What? She'd accept you
for what you are?

Make things better?

What the fuck
were you thinking, Philo?

If this gets out,
this could destroy you.

She won't tell anyone.

Well, she better not.

You're the only reason
they let me live.

If anything happens to you,

what the fuck's
gonna happen to me?

Oh, Hidden One.

- Show us your face!
- Our flesh deceives us.

- Show us your face!
- We seek you in darkness.

Show us your face!

- Oh, Hidden One.
- Show us your face!

- Our flesh deceives us.
- Show us your face!

- We seek you in darkness.
- Stupid Critch.

Putting a beating
on their own selves?

All for some fake god?

Hey, don't you shites know
that's our job?

See? I can do it ten times
better than you, aye?

Oh, that's right.

But punches aren't what you're
interested in, is it, aye?

- You favor this, don't you?
- No.

All right, then.

All is as the Hidden One
wills it.

You'll let me know if I'm doing
it right, won't you, huh?

Like this?

Watch and learn.
This is the truth.

They will never accept us.

They will never understand us.

We can make no peace
with the ignorant.

Oh, do something, Moira,
before he hurts himself.

Can I help you, lad?

I've come from the constabulary.

-Ooh, I can see that.
-About the matter
of a certain gentleman

we have reason
to believe visited

these premises last night.

Since deceased.

You mean poor Morange,
of course.

I told the inspector
who was here last night

everything I know.

What inspector?

Philo was there last night?

Odd he didn't say anything.

Probably just slipped his mind.

Yeah, he hasn't been himself.

I think he took what happened
at the boys home

harder than he let on.

That was his headmaster,
after all.

Closest thing he ever had
to a father.

What I want to know
is why was he following

after Morange
in the first place?

The night he was killed,
no less.

It is curious,
I'll grant you that, Sergeant.

Now, you've been with him
since the start of this case,

- haven't you, Berwick?
- Yes, sir.

Is there anything else
I should be made aware of?

Well, out with it, man.

It's to do with Critch rumors,
a beast they call a Darkasher.

A thing you raise from the dead

to do your bidding,
even kill for you.

Philo swears he's seen it.

Right.

There he is.

Keep an eye on him, understood?

Any irregularities.

Oy, if you could
get this upstairs...

Something happen, Inspector?

I've decided to find new
accommodations, closer to work.

Remember that old fella, the one
we met in the fae's flat?

Yeah, of course.

Think I heard something about
a show he's putting on.

On the road.

Want me to come
with you, Inspector?

No need.

Just a quick look,
before the crowds.

It was founded
in the summer of '41

when our brave lads
took Anoun back from the Pact

and held it until that Austery.

It was brought across
the sea timber by timber.

Mind you,

- there are some naughty bits.
- What?

Oh.

Look at that one.

You're not supposed
to be in here.

Get the fuck out!

Shut that bloody dog up!

I know who you are.

What is it?

What did you see?

- My death.
- No.

Are you certain?

I have felt it.

Coming closer and closer.

But surely if, if you saw
what's to come,

there must be some way
to prevent it.

My dear girl, did you learn
nothing all those years

sitting at me knee,
watching and listening?

There is no cheating death.

Especially when it's to come
at the hand of a Darkasher.

A Darkasher?

Tell me.

I didn't come here
to talk about my fate.

- You wanted to know
about Jonah's.
- No.

Your safety is what matters.

You will stay here until the
danger has passed.

Don't even try to say no.

Hey!

Sit down.

I know this isn't

easy for you.

- Perhaps some champagne.
- Yes, please.

Imogen.

Louisa. Leslie.

Mr. Agreus.

Two days in a row now.

This must be serious.

Mr. Agreus,
this is Leslie Boythorn.

Must say I'm surprised
to see you here, Imogen.

Or did Ezra suddenly find
his lost fortune?

As I understand it,

he's putting his money to work
in the shipping trade.

Do I have that right,
Miss Spurnrose?

It's quite right.

Admirable to see
a man apply himself

when he could so easily rest
on his inherited good fortune.

Leslie has his eye
on the most striking

and triumphant painting
from Augustus Hope.

The Rising?

More than just an eye,
Louisa, dear.

I intend to purchase it.

It's expected to fetch well
north of 100,000 guilder.

What was it about it
that caught your eye?

I'm curious.

It's a masterwork.

Everyone knows that.

And at that price,
if it doesn't match the drapes

in your drawing room,
I suppose you'll just have

to get new drapes.

Louisa?

Shall we?

Hmm. Yes.

She had sex with him in
the carriage on the way here.

How do you know that?

We Puck have keen senses.

I'm surprised
they made it inside.

That girl is so tightly wound,

it's a miracle
the fool didn't get stuck.

Ladies and gentlemen,

if you'll kindly
take your seats.

Oy!

Come back here!

Did you not see
what was happening?

No, it doesn't matter anymore.
They're gone.

- Who's gone?
- All of them.

Leopold, Cassiopeia,

Fike, Traidy.

They've all been deported
by your lot.

I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Maybe it was for the best.
At least, I'd like to think so

because it's not much being
an immigrant in the Burgue

these days, but...

I shall miss them,

however infuriating
they could be.

T-Tell me, Inspector,

did you keep your promise?

Have you found justice
for my Aisling?

That's why I was looking
for you, as it happens.

I'd like to know more.

Listen, I only just
arrived in the Burgue

and I know nothing
about her recent life.

It's her past that interests me.

I have reason to believe

that she did in fact
have a child,

and that the circumstances
of that child's birth

may have had something to do
with what got her killed.

Her past.

Well...

Listen, ought six,

or ought seven,

when she was at the height
of her fame,

there was someone,
someone she wouldn't talk about,

but I had never
seen her so happy.

And then, one day,
something changed.

She canceled her standing
engagement at the Abbey.

She went away for some time,
months in fact,

and when she came back,
she was changed,

sadder somehow.

And I always wondered if...

She'd gone away to have a baby.

That was my instinct.
She never said, I never asked.

She wrote a song about it.

At least I like to think
it was about

a child that she'd given away.

You know it.

If there was a child,

where would she go to have
the baby, do you know?

She stayed with a benefactor
in the Crossing.

A benefactor?

Well, things were different
in those days, Inspector.

Friendships between their kind
and ours were not so...

impossible.

You wouldn't happen to know
the surname of this benefactor?

How could I forget?

He was the finest watchmaker
in the Burgue,

at the time.

Good day to you, Inspector.

Next, an unparalleled work

by Augustus Hope.

The Rising was donated by

Sir Elgenai
and Lady Tripplethorne.

The floor is open.
Bidding starts

at 100,000 guilder.

100,000. Do I have 120?

140?

175?

200,000?

200,000

from Mr. Leslie Boythorn.

A record, friends.

Do I have 225?

220, anyone?

For a priceless masterpiece.

210?

Well, then,

200,000 guilder.

Going once, going twice...

300,000 guilder.

I'm-I'm sorry, but...

do you even have
that sort of money?

On hand, you mean?

300,000 guilder.

Going once.

Twice...

Sold!

Champagne?

Everyone's staring.

Well, we could go if you'd like.

No, no.

I'm curious, did you intend
to purchase that painting today?

Why did you then?

Do you find it beautiful?

Of course.

Perhaps not 300,000
guilder beautiful...

I did it because
I wanted to see his face.

I wanted him to know
that I could take it from him.

Why?

Because he took it for granted
that it should be his.

And what will you do with it?

Hang it in my home,

and then buy drapes to match it.

You are not at all
what I expected, Mr. Agreus.

Nor are you, Miss Spurnrose,

nor are you.

If it's Inspector Philostrate
you're looking for,

he's no longer a tenant here.

I heard he was looking
for a new place to let.

That's why I'm here.

You're interested
in his room then?

I'm interested
why he up and left.

She didn't want to say nothing

at first, but I got it
out of her.

Poor woman, you have to feel
sorry for her.

Being taken in like that.

Still can't believe it,
a half-blood.

Passing right under our noses.

It's a fucking disgrace.

There's more.

Go on.

She told me

he said the murdered fae,
the singer,

was his mum.

Fuck me.

It all adds up.
His mum, the headmaster,

they both would've known
the truth.

What about Morange?

Maybe the headmaster whispered
something to him in the dark.

Or maybe he's the one that
clipped him back in the day.

All that Darkasher nonsense
he made up

to try and cover his tracks.

By the Martyr,

it's been Philo all along.

He killed 'em
to hide his secret.

- You got a man on him now?
- Yeah.

Then bring him in.

Can I help you, Inspector?

I remember her.
I'd just started here.

Mr. Spurnrose, may he bask
in the Martyr's light,

let her have what's now
Miss Imogen's room.

He was a good man.

Progressive for his time.

He even arranged for a doctor

- to look after her.
- Morange.

I expect you know
what happened to him.

Well, there's not
much more to tell.

She stayed until the baby came.

Cried for days
after Morange left with him.

The father, did he ever visit?

She never spoke of him.

I had the feeling
she was frightened of him.

- You've no idea who he was?
- None.

Poor wee thing

had these sad little wings.

By the looks of them,

I doubt he would've been able
to take to the air,

if he survived that is.

A lot of the time, half-bloods
don't, not for long anyway.

I always wondered
what became of him.

I'm coming.

I'm coming!

- Good evening...
- Where is he?

Rycroft Philostrate,

you're under arrest.

On what charge?

Suspicion of murder.
Three counts.

Murder?

Cuff him.

You don't have to
wonder anymore.

Shut up,

you fucking Critch!