by Derek Landy
“This is Grand Mage Gavin Praetor,” said China, “of the American Sanctuary.”
Praetor bowed deeply, but kept his eyes locked on Serafina’s. “It is an honour, High Superior, to be in the presence of someone so bewitching.”
“Surely, Grand Mage, you are used to it by now,” Serafina responded. “Is the Supreme Mage not more bewitching than I? Is she not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes upon?”
Praetor smiled. “I would certainly not like to choose between you, High Superior.”
“How thoroughly gracious,” Serafina said.
“And this is Grand Mage Sturmun Drang, of the German Sanctuary,” said China. “I believe you know each other.”
Drang gave a curt bow. “High Superior.”
Serafina smiled. “No exaltations about my timeless beauty, Sturmun? I can call you that, can’t I? I believe once you make an attempt on someone’s life you grant that person permission to use your first name.”
Drang remained impassive. “That was a long time ago.”
Serafina’s smile grew smaller, but somehow even more glorious. “Was it?”
China seized this moment to step between them, and steered Serafina towards Skulduggery. “And you remember Skulduggery Pleasant, of course.”
“How could I forget a man such as this?” Serafina said, and tapped her finger-bone necklace. “I believe one of these is yours.”
“I believe you may be right,” Skulduggery said. Coolly.
“And this,” said Serafina, “must be the infamous Valkyrie Cain, the girl who very nearly destroyed us all.”
“I suppose I am,” Valkyrie responded. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you,” Serafina answered, and swept her arm back. Her security person, the woman dressed in black, came up the steps. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Rune.”
Rune was as tall as Skulduggery, and she had broad shoulders, an impressively square jaw and flat, expressionless eyes. Her dark hair was tied back in a functional bun, and she managed to make the suit she wore seem like a military uniform.
“We’ve met before,” Skulduggery said.
“I’m aware,” said Rune.
A silence followed.
“How was the journey?” China asked.
“Long,” said Serafina. “How I miss the days when everyone had a Teleporter at their disposal.”
“You miss them when they’re gone, don’t you? But don’t worry. Corrival Academy is training up the next generation of Teleporters and I’m sure they’ll be available to hire in a few short years.”
“Quite,” said Serafina, and her smile dimmed a fraction before returning, as brilliant as ever.
“Please come inside,” China said. “It’s far too cold to be standing out here like this.”
Serafina gave a gentle nod, turned to the crowd and waved. This drove her supporters into a frenzy. It didn’t go down well with the protestors.
One of them threw a bottle of water. It bounced harmlessly off the force field. Serafina blew a kiss.
Valkyrie stood with Skulduggery, watching the procession as it threaded its way into the High Sanctuary. “Are we done now?” she asked once they were alone.
“We are,” he said.
The crowd started chanting competing slogans at each other as the Cleavers moved to break them up.
“I talked to Caisson,” Valkyrie blurted.
Skulduggery tilted his head at her.
“I didn’t know how else to say it,” she said. “I thought blurting might be the best option.” She looked at the crowd. It was showing no signs of dispersing.
“You must be talking about some other Caisson …” Skulduggery said slowly.
“Nope,” she replied. “It’s the one you’re thinking of. You know, your son Caisson. He wanted to meet me and we met.”
“First of all,” Skulduggery said, “he’s not my son.”
“You don’t know that. You told me yourself, there are all kinds of magical ways to make a baby that don’t require the usual process.”
“I’m going to say it again: he’s not my son. Second of all … why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am telling you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before you met him? It could have been a trap.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. It was a risk, but it was a risk I was ready to take. He had a proposal that he wanted to talk to me about. It was all very fine and undramatic. I mean, he’s obviously a very traumatised person, but he didn’t try to kill me or anything.”
“Well … that’s a good start, I suppose.”
“He did say he wanted to kill you, though.”
“That hardly seems fair. The only bad thing I ever did to him was kill his mother, and she came back.”
“That’s what I told him,” Valkyrie said. “I think he’s conflicted about the whole thing, but he still wants to kill you. So, this proposal of his. He claims to know how to find Doctor Nye, and he says he’ll tell me if I tell him where Greymire Asylum is.”
Skulduggery tilted his head to the other side. “Greymire, eh?”
“He says there’s a cure there – I think it’s called K-49 – that’ll help soothe his mind. So do you know where Greymire is?”
“Not exactly.”
“Can you find it?”
“I don’t know.”
Valkyrie frowned. “Is that doubt in your voice?”
“Greymire Asylum doesn’t exist,” Skulduggery said. “Not officially anyway. It has no staff and it has no patients. No one knows anyone who’s ever worked there.”
“OK, so it’s a secret psychiatric hospital.”
“No,” Skulduggery said. “It’s not a psychiatric hospital at all. It’s what was once called a lunatic asylum, as barbaric as that sounds. Sorcerers driven mad by magic were sent there. Only the most dangerous. Only the worst cases. They were locked away so that the rest of us could forget about them.”
“China would know where it is, wouldn’t she?”
“She won’t tell us. I wouldn’t tell us, either. Greymire is best left forgotten.”
“Well,” said Valkyrie, “that’s not really going to work for me.”
“We’ll grab Caisson,” Skulduggery said. “The next time he comes to visit, we’ll grab him and send someone into his head. We’ll find out what he knows.”
“No.”
“Valkyrie—”
“We’ve been looking for Nye for months and we haven’t come close to it. Caisson is our only lead, and I’m not going to risk that by trying something sneaky. Besides, his head is so messed up that I doubt a Sensitive would be able to learn anything useful, even if we did grab him. Caisson came to me with a proposal and I’ve accepted.”
“It sounds like you’ve already decided.”
“And it sounds like you’re trying to overrule me.”
“You can’t tell him where Greymire is,” Skulduggery said. “Even if you knew, you couldn’t tell him. That information is too dangerous to be let out into the world. We’ll find Nye on our own. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Too much time has passed already. Alice is eight years old. She deserves a normal life.”
“We’ll give it to her, I promise. We just need another way.”
“The other ways aren’t working. Your ways aren’t working. This is my way. Are you going to help me, or will I have to do it alone?”
He looked at her. “I’ll help you. Of course I will. But you must understand what we’ll be doing. Greymire Asylum contains the worst of the worst, Valkyrie – sorcerers whose names you’ve never heard because no one wants to utter them aloud. To pass this information to someone like Caisson … If we’re discovered, we’ll be arrested for treason.”
“They wouldn’t arrest us. Who’d order it – China? China wouldn’t arrest us.”
“Not without good reason. Which this would be.”
Valkyrie looked at the crowd, then raised an eyebrow. “And what, do you
think, would the punishment be for breaking into Greymire Asylum?”
“Why would we do that?”
“If we found this K-49 thing, we wouldn’t have to tell Caisson where Greymire is, would we? We give him his cure, he tells us where Nye is.”
“That could work.”
“So, if China won’t tell us where Greymire is, how do we find it?”
“The only place I can think of where it would be written down is in the diaries of the Grand Mages – but they were all destroyed when the Desolation Engine went off in the old Sanctuary.”
“There has to be someone apart from China who knows.”
“There may be one person …”
“There you go,” said Valkyrie, grinning. “I knew you’d think of something.”
The crowd that filled the Circle zone a few hours earlier had finally dispersed. There had been a lot of shouting and sign-waving, but Omen didn’t have a clue what had been going on. Someone was visiting, he reckoned. Someone important.
He waited beside the fountain, his coat zipped all the way up to his chin. He should have worn the coat he’d got here in the city, the one guaranteed to keep you warm no matter what, but instead he’d chosen the other coat, the one made by mortals, because it did a better job of hiding the extra weight he was still lugging around. This was a dreadful coat. He was freezing.
At a little past four, the mortal ambassadors came out of the High Sanctuary and down the steps. Aurnia parted company with them before they got on the tram that would take them back to the Humdrums. She was wearing a coat made by sorcerers. She didn’t look chilly in the slightest.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. “The reception got in the way of everything and the meeting ran over and it was just, it was bedlam. Have you been waiting long?”
“No,” he said. “Not long at all.”
She glanced at the clock. “I can’t even go for coffee with you,” she said. “I told my parents I’d be back by half four to help with the shop. You came out here for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” said Omen. “It’s always good to see you. And I can ride back with you.”
“But that’s really out of your way.”
“It’s Saturday. What else have I got to do?”
She laughed, and they caught the next tram, and settled in their seats.
“Who was the reception for?” Omen asked.
Aurnia soured. “The wife of Mevolent – Serafina Dey. In my dimension, she’s been dead since before I was born. But, here, she lives, and it is Mevolent who is dead. Which, of course, is far preferable.”
“Did you get to meet her?”
She frowned. “No. Why would I want to meet anyone like that?”
“I just thought it would be … I don’t know, actually. So, um, the meeting you had. What was it about?”
Aurnia shrugged. “The usual. It was us, voicing the concerns of the people in our community, and the High Sanctuary’s … um … what’s the word? People who love rules and filling out forms?”
“Oh, I know it. I know the word you’re thinking of. It’s … It begins with a b …”
“Bureaucrats!” said Aurnia. “Yes! Us on one side, the High Sanctuary’s bureaucrats on the other. They make notes and lists and tell us no, using every other word but no.”
“Sounds annoying.”
“It can be. But it’s how things get done here and, to be honest with you, it’s still far, far better than what we had back home. What day did you say it is again?”
“Saturday.”
She nodded. “So it’s once more time to thank you for making me an ambassador.”
He laughed. “I get the feeling you’re good at it.”
“I do enjoy it, I have to say. Some of the other ambassadors got bored or too busy so they’re not coming to the meetings any more, but I really like it. I like making a difference, and I like people paying attention to what I have to say. I’m the youngest ambassador we have. It’s, uh, it’s cool.”
“I’m glad,” Omen said, smiling. “How’s the shop?”
“It’s doing OK,” Aurnia replied. “It’s smaller than the one we used to have, but it’s obviously in a much safer neighbourhood. Well, usually.”
“What do you mean?”
Aurnia shrugged. “There are people – sorcerers – who have started coming into the Humdrums and, you know …”
“What?”
“They offer to protect our businesses for money, but, if you don’t pay, bad things happen.”
“Seriously?” Omen asked, keeping his voice low. “Have you told the City Guard?”
“The City Guard are, usually, the ones doing it.”
Omen stared at her. Then sat back.
“You hadn’t heard?” Aurnia asked. “About any of this?”
“No,” said Omen. “I mean … I don’t pay that much attention to the Network, but I’m sure I’d remember something like that.”
“It hasn’t been reported. The Supreme Mage would prefer to handle this without causing a scandal. She says sorcerers still like to congratulate themselves on taking us in, even if they do hide us away in a corner of the city where nobody else goes. She says they would not appreciate these unfortunate developments.”
“But that’s awful.”
“Yes.”
“But that’s, like, really awful. Everyone should know about this. It can’t be allowed. If people knew what was going on, it would stop immediately.”
“Would it?” Aurnia asked. “We’re setting up our businesses and our shops and our services, and everyone my age is going to school, but, for the vast majority of us, we’re working for sorcerers. We’re cleaning their houses and taking care of their children and preparing their food. They don’t really care about the bad things that are going on because they don’t …”
“Don’t what?”
“They don’t view us as equals,” Aurnia said. “I don’t mean you. And I don’t mean all sorcerers. But … a lot of them.”
Omen didn’t know what to say. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re horrible.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We are horrible, terrible people.”
“You’re cool,” said Aurnia, smiling again. “Many sorcerers are cool. But some are not. What’s the Frank Sinatra song? ‘That’s Life’.”
“You know Frank Sinatra?”
She grinned. “We’re making our way through the music of this dimension. At first, it was all noise and none of it made sense – but the more we listen, the more we love. My father is a big fan of Frank Sinatra. He hopes to see him in concert one day. My mother, she’s into the Beatles and the Monkees.”
“Great bands,” Omen said, nodding.
“Of the Beatles, she loves John the most. She wants to write him a letter.”
“Uh … I think John Lennon is dead.”
“Oh,” said Aurnia. “Oh, she will be disappointed.”
“Frank Sinatra’s dead, too.”
Aurnia winced. “My father will not be happy.”
“What about you?” Omen asked. “Do you have a favourite band or singer or whatever?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m not going to say her name, in case you tell me that she’s also dead. I’d rather live in a world with her in it, thank you very much.”
“Well, OK,” said Omen, smiling. “That sounds fair enough.”
There were very few people travelling this line today, so it didn’t take long to reach the Humdrums. Aurnia pressed the button to stop, and she stood.
“Thanks for coming out,” she said. “Sorry we didn’t have time to do anything.”
“That’s OK,” Omen said. He tried to think of a funny line to part with, but by the time he’d come up with something Aurnia was already waving and hopping off.
The tram pulled away, and he shrugged. It hadn’t been that funny anyway.
The only other passenger on the tram, a girl in a big coat who ha
d been sitting at the other end, got up and walked over – and sat beside him. Actually sat beside him.
He felt his face go red, and felt his heart in his chest. She was going to chat him up. She was going to chat him up.
He decided, then and there, that he didn’t care what she looked like under that hood – he was going to say yes when she asked him out.
She pulled down the hood and he shrieked.
“Quiet!” Colleen Stint said, punching his arm.
“Ow!” he yelled.
“What part of quiet didn’t you understand?”
They stared at each other.
Then he leaped up, spun round, expecting the other members of First Wave to charge at him.
Colleen sighed. “There’s no one else here.”
“Where are they?” he demanded. “Where’s Jenan?”
“I’m the only one who came. Would you please stop freaking out? It’s embarrassing for you.”
Pretty sure that they were, in fact, alone, Omen glared at her and backed away. He sat down opposite.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “How did you even get past Shudder’s Gate?”
“Nero,” she said. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know it’s you I came to see. I asked if I could tag along the next time he teleported into Roarhaven. He’s been, I don’t know, distracted lately, so he didn’t ask any questions.”
Omen frowned at her. “Why has he been teleporting into Roarhaven?”
“You really think they’d tell us?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want, Colleen?”
“We need your help. Me, Perpetua, Sabre and Disdain – we want to get away from Abyssinia.”
“But you are away from Abyssinia. You’re here. Why didn’t the others come with you?”
Colleen made a face. “We don’t want to come to Roarhaven. Everyone here knows that we left with Jenan and joined up with Abyssinia. Can you imagine the way they’d look at us? Can you imagine what they’d say about us?”
“Then where do you want to go?”
“Nowhere with sorcerers,” Colleen responded. “We just want a few years away from all this craziness. When it’s over, when people calm down, maybe then we’ll come back, but right now we want to blend in with the mortals, maybe somewhere in Australia, or California. Somewhere with a beach.”