A Split Worlds Omnibus

by Emma Newman

  Cathy shook her head, surprised. “No,” she said as her mother glared at her. “Not at all. On the contrary, I would be delighted.”

  “Good. Off we go then. It was lovely to see you, Isabella,” she said to her sister, who smiled and withdrew as Cathy was escorted out of the house.

  The Censor’s carriage was waiting. Just the fact of it being outside their house would be remarked upon as others passed. Everyone wanted to have the Censor pay a personal call, especially now the Master of Ceremonies was out of the country.

  Once they were inside and skirts arranged comfortably the door was shut and the carriage moved off.

  “How was the soirée at the Peonias’ last night?” the Censor enquired and Cathy wondered if it was the first test.

  “Very popular,” she said, not wanting to commit herself to saying anything about William.

  She readied herself for the next question, but when they rounded the corner the Censor drew the curtain over the door’s small window and her false smile faded.

  “You and I are not going to Lunn’s and we will not be having lunch. I had to say that to get you out of the house.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “That will become clear soon enough. Now you need to listen to me carefully. The people I’m taking you to will tell you what you need to do. I want you to do exactly as you’re told.”

  “What people?”

  “Be quiet and listen. This is very important. If you do not obey their instructions perfectly, I’ll know and I will personally see you destroyed. And I’m not talking about being shunned by Society, I’m talking about ensuring you’re sold into slavery and made to suffer for the rest of eternity.”

  Cathy blinked at her. “I’m your niece.”

  “An accident of birth will not protect you if this is not a success.”

  Cathy gritted her teeth, forcing the abuse she wanted to spout at the woman back down her throat. “I’m also Lord Poppy’s favourite,” she finally said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy if you were to–”

  “Listen to me, you stupid little girl. Your brief flirtation with success is utterly inconsequential. You may be Poppy’s favourite today, but I am the Censor of Aquae Sulis and if I tell my patron you failed to cooperate, she’ll have no difficulty in correcting Lord Poppy’s opinion of you.”

  “I’d be more likely to succeed if you tell me what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “As I said, the people involved will tell you everything you need to know. When this is over, if you’re successful, I’ll take you home and you will not tell a soul of what has transpired. If I hear even a hint of gossip about anything other than you and me having lunch today, I will make good on my previous warning.”

  “Is there no reward if I’m successful?”

  The Censor’s lips curved into a smile that made Cathy shiver. “Only the satisfaction that you’ve been a good citizen of Aquae Sulis.”

  Cathy didn’t ask any more questions. It was clear no answers would be forthcoming, so she sat there, bouncing up and down uncomfortably on the seat, daydreaming about leaping from the carriage and making a dramatic escape. She also imagined punching the Censor in the face. Neither came to pass.

  They rode in silence, going steadily uphill. Cathy suspected they were heading out of Aquae Sulis. After a few minutes the carriage lurched to the left as they turned a corner sharply and the ground beneath them seemed far less even. It came to a stop and the driver knocked three times on the roof of the carriage.

  “Remember what I told you,” the Censor said. She whispered a Charm of Openings as she touched the handle of the carriage door and then it was opened, revealing the blue sky of Mundanus.

  Cathy was ushered out of the carriage. She almost fell down the steps when she saw the green field and felt the cool breeze. She glanced behind her, seeing the interior of the carriage appearing to float in mid-air, then it was gone as the Censor closed the Way back into the Nether. She realised she’d left her bag in there, not that it contained anything useful.

  This was her chance. Cathy gathered up the absurd amount of fabric that made up the skirts of her dress, but just as she was breaking into a run her arm was grabbed from behind. She cried out at the pressure on one of the bruises as she was twisted around, not gently either.

  The man wore a butler’s suit and was clean-shaven. Another man, wearing a trilby and raincoat, was leaning on crutches just behind him. He was too ugly and she had a horrible feeling he was an Arbiter.

  “Are you Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver?” the butler said, not letting go.

  “Maybe,” she replied, wincing at the pain. “Do you mind?”

  He ignored her. She noticed a large car parked just inside the open gate to the field, and the city of Bath was visible over the downward slope of the hill.

  “Blindfold her,” the Arbiter said.

  “Now just wait a minute,” Cathy objected as the butler pulled the strip of black fabric from his pocket. “Is this really necessary? Will you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  The Arbiter stared at her. It was the closest she’d ever been to one and it was just as unpleasant as she’d been told it would be. “It is necessary. We’ll tie your hands if you don’t cooperate. And don’t think about bolting; this guy used to play rugby before he became a butler.”

  She’d already given up on the idea. Running in a corset and fussy dress was not easy at the best of times; they’d easily catch her.

  “I do apologise,” the butler whispered as he tied the blindfold.

  “I’m going to check her for artefacts,” the Arbiter said, and then she felt hands patting her sleeves and fingers feeling round the inside of her jacket collar. He even prodded at her hair, making her twist her head away as best she could. “Anything you want to declare now?”

  She shook her head and then was steered across the field, stumbling over the little hillocks of tufty grass, the bruise complaining all the way.

  “Put her in the boot,” the Arbiter said and she heard it being opened.

  “But–”

  She was scooped up, dumped in and the boot slammed shut before she could present her argument. It was locked and she struggled into a more comfortable position, finding it hard to breathe when corseted and crumpled up against a jerry can. It smelt of oil and was horribly uncomfortable. She tried to rein in her panic at being locked into such a small space.

  The car rumbled into life, the entire boot vibrating, then it set off and she was thrown about inside as it drove across the field. It improved slightly once they were on the road. By the way she slid into what felt like a toolbox she deduced they were going downhill and presumably back into the city.

  She shoved the blindfold up onto her forehead, but it was pitch-black and disappointingly unlike the car-boot interiors she’d seen in films, which always seemed to have just enough light to see the action. She fumbled for the lock, but it was useless, she couldn’t feel any way to unlock it from the inside.

  Struggling to keep her nerves under control, she forced herself to think about her situation logically. The last thing she’d expected was being dumped into the hands of an Arbiter by the Censor of Aquae Sulis. What the hell was going on? She thought of her parents at home, probably delighted at their wayward daughter being invited out for the day by the most important person in Society, when in fact she was locked in the boot of an Arbiter’s car in Mundanus. She started to laugh, her nerves making her predicament seem very funny all of a sudden. Her dress would probably be ruined. How was the Censor going to explain that away?

  Once she stopped giggling nervously, she could think more clearly and it occurred to her that, whilst she was clearly being used as the proverbial pawn in a game much bigger than she could comprehend, it could work in her favour. She hadn’t considered it before, but the Arbiters and perhaps even the Sorcerers could help her get away from Aquae Sulis. By the time the car stopped, she had a new plan, and she readied herself by putting the blindfol
d back on, not wanting to give them a reason to be irritated with her.

  The boot was unlocked and opened, her blindfold checked. She was helped out by the butler, who apologised surreptitiously again, and she found herself standing on gravel. A driveway?

  “Mr Arbiter?” she said to the blackness.

  “Yes?” He was close by.

  “I need to speak to you. It’s not what you’ll expect.”

  “We need to speak to you too, and I am certain you won’t be expecting what we have to say either.” She could hear him moving off on his crutches. The butler’s hand was around her arm again, but she noted it was in a different place from before.

  “Listen, I need your protection.”

  The sound of the hobbling stopped. “From what?”

  “Not what, who. My family. You could do that, right? I mean, you stop the Great Families doing stuff all the time to protect people.”

  “We protect the innocents,” he said. “Not the parasites.”

  “But I’m not like them!” She heard him moving away and was steered in the same direction. “Really! I don’t want to live in Aquae Sulis any more, I need your help!”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, lady,” he replied. “I’ve heard every trick in the book. Save your breath.”

  “It’s not a trick!”

  “Steps ahead,” the butler said as she tripped on the first.

  She heard a door opening and felt the flutter of returning panic. Where was she being taken?

  There was the tell-tale sensation of entering the Nether. Her feet had been on gravel, then they’d climbed three stone steps and now their footfalls sounded as if they were walking on a wooden floor. The door was closed behind them; it sounded large and heavy. They were inside a house in Aquae Sulis, but which one?

  “This way, please,” the butler said, as if she had a choice.

  “What’s this about? Where are we?”

  They didn’t answer and when her hand twitched towards the blindfold, the butler said, “Please don’t touch that, Miss, I would hate to have to be unpleasant.”

  As much as she was trying not to admit it to herself, she was scared. She was marched down what felt like a very long corridor, this time on carpet. Occasionally she could hear the ticking of clocks and creaking floorboards upstairs. Eventually a door was opened ahead and she was steered to the right, their footsteps clicking on wooden floorboards again.

  Somehow she knew there was someone else in the room. The butler pulled her further in and then pressed down on her shoulders. “Please sit down,” he said, and she felt a hard chair beneath her.

  “This is the one the Censor delivered?” It was a new voice, male, deep.

  “Yes, sir,” the Arbiter replied.

  Sir? His boss? That meant–

  “Are you a Sorcerer?” she asked, gripping the edges of the chair so they couldn’t see her shaking.

  “Be quiet.” The man’s shoes clipped across the floor towards her. She had the intense feeling of being scrutinised. “There’s a curse upon her.”

  “Has the Censor tricked us?” the Arbiter asked.

  There was the rustle of fabric, like pockets being checked. “Hold still,” the man said and she heard the snip of a pair of scissors not an inch from her right ear.

  “Hey! Did you just cut my hair?”

  “Keep her here. If she tries to leave, use this.”

  She had no idea what “this” was, but she didn’t want to find out. She heard the man leave, but the butler and the Arbiter were still in the room as far as she could tell.

  “Listen, I was serious about what I said before,” she said.

  “If you speak another word I’ll stuff a sock in your mouth,” the Arbiter said. “I’m not taking any risks with you.”

  She sighed and slumped in the uncomfortable chair. It wasn’t too long before the door opened again and there was a second set of footsteps.

  “What the hell?” Another man’s voice.

  “Be quiet,” said the man she suspected was the Sorcerer.

  “Is it a problem?” the Arbiter asked.

  “Not for our purposes,” the Sorcerer replied.

  “Are you OK?” said the new one. She could hear him coming closer.

  “Stay back,” the Sorcerer said. “She’s not as harmless as she may appear to be.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do?” she asked. “This is a bit over the top, isn’t it?”

  “One should never underestimate one of your kind,” the Sorcerer mumbled. “Now, we don’t have a great deal of time. Did the Censor tell you why we’ve brought you here?”

  “No. Can I please take this blindfold off?”

  “No, you may not. I understand you’re the favourite of Lord Poppy.”

  “Is that why I’m here?” There was a pause. “Yes, I am, even though I don’t want to be.”

  “She’s been trying to make us think she isn’t like the rest,” the Arbiter said.

  “The rest of what?” the new guy said and was shushed into silence.

  “Will someone please tell me why I’m here?”

  “You are required to take a gentleman into Exilium to meet Lord Poppy. There is–”

  “Now just wait a bloody minute,” Cathy said, now angry. “You convince the Censor to drive me out of Aquae Sulis, chuck me out into a mundane field, then your mook comes and throws me into the boot of a car, blindfolded, no explanation. I’m brought God knows where and you want me to go into Exilium to speak to Lord Poppy? No fucking way!”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “This sounds a bit like kidnapping,” the new one said. “I don’t want to be involved in anything like this.”

  “Neither do I,” Cathy said, liking him more than the others.

  “Were you or were you not told to cooperate by the Censor?” the Sorcerer asked.

  “She didn’t tell me you wanted me to go into Exilium! Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

  “Of course I do, but this is a necessity. We have a man here who’s been put under a Fool’s Charm and we need the memory that it’s hiding to be revealed.”

  “Do it yourself,” she said, folding her arms. “There’s no way I’m going to see Poppy.”

  “I can’t without killing him,” came the reply.

  “I’m not discussing this a moment longer with this bloody blindfold on,” Cathy said but her hand was pushed back down as she reached up to take it off. That hand then rested on her shoulder, ready to act if she moved again. She hoped it was the butler and not the Arbiter, not that it made much difference.

  “That won’t be removed until you are in Exilium,” the Sorcerer said.

  She sucked in a breath, steadying her nerves and frustration. “Listen. If I’m going to risk more than my life for this, there has to be something in it for me. If I get this Fool’s Charm lifted, I want you to–”

  “There’s no negotiation to be had, puppet,” the Sorcerer butted in. “You have no bargaining power. If you won’t cooperate, I will not hesitate to inform the Censor and I’m certain she could make your life very difficult indeed.”

  She let her head drop. He was right, she had as much leverage as a lettuce leaf. One day, she promised herself silently, I’ll be free of each and every one of you heartless bastards.

  “I don’t have anything to offer Poppy.”

  “You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Being his favourite sets you in good stead.”

  “Who put the Charm on the man?”

  “One of the Fae lords.”

  “Oh dear,” she said, not holding back on the sarcasm. “I’m guessing you don’t know which one?”

  “No.” Unsurprisingly, he was reluctant to admit it.

  “Let’s hope it isn’t Poppy.”

  “You don’t seem to have much respect for your patron.”

  “I’m not like the rest of them. But you don’t believe me and you don’t care, so if I have to do this, then let’s get it over with, even
though it’s the worst plan in the world. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “It’s the only option we have,” the Sorcerer replied. “Get the Fool’s Charm lifted and come back here, then you’ll be returned to the Censor with a glowing report.”

  “Whoopydo.”

  “I’m going to open the Way. You will be guided through, then you may remove the blindfold.”

  “What about getting back?”

  “Your companion has a key. It can only be used when you are both in contact, and it will only bring you back to this room.”

  “So don’t bludgeon him over the head and try to run away, is that what you’re saying?”

  “I simply wanted to make it clear. Any questions?”

  “None that you’ll answer. Oh, wait! Do I look like I’ve been thrown in a grotty car boot? Because if I do, you need to fix that. The Fae are shallow bastards and it could screw everything up.”

  “I’ll get the clothes brush sir,” the butler said and she heard him walking away. The hand didn’t lift from her shoulder. She shivered.

  “You certainly don’t talk like they do,” the Sorcerer said thoughtfully.

  “Their ruses get more sophisticated all the time, sir,” said the Arbiter, from right behind her.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “You hardly have the moral high ground here.”

  “We had to take this action because the law has been broken,” the Arbiter replied.

  “Not by me,” she said, and sank into silence.

  The butler returned and she was invited to stand as her clothes were brushed. The activity elicited an astonished gasp from the new guy.

  “Bloody hell!” he said, which sent a flash of excitement through her. He must be a mundane; no Fae-touched or any of the Sorcerer’s people would have reacted like that. She hoped he would give more away but he was shushed before he could say anything else.

  “My apologies for the state of the car boot, Miss,” the butler said. “Your dress is as it was when we first met you.”

  “Remember what I told you,” she heard the Sorcerer say quietly, presumably to the man under the Fool’s Charm.

  There was a sound of a curtain being drawn back, then one similar to a watch being wound, a loud knock of something against the wooden floor and then birdsong filled the room. Cathy was pushed forwards. A hand took hers and then with the next step she felt uneven ground instead of wooden floorboards and smelt the sweet scent of flowers on the breeze. She was in Exilium again. And she was not happy about it.