by Mark Hayden
I needed the address so that I could make a phone call to Spain. Dad answered, and couldn’t believe his ears when I asked him to source an antique coat stand with at least six hooks.
‘That’s a bit of a tall order, son,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen one with that many. What on earth do you need that for?’
‘Bit of an accident at the initiation ceremony for my new job. You know what it’s like.’
‘No I don’t, and I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me.’
‘Sorry, Dad. Look, if you can’t find one, just fake a couple of extra hooks. You’ve had enough practice.’
‘How dare you! When do you want it?’
‘Soon as. I’ll text you the address. Love to Mum.’
My tenant had just broken up with his girlfriend, so we had a couple of pints in the nearest pub, and I had an early night. My last act was to burn the letter I’d written to Mum and Dad in the event of my not returning from induction.
The meeting with the Earth Master wasn’t until eleven o’clock, so I got a proper lie-in for a change. Now that I’ve been commissioned into the Watch, it was safe to take the Hammer with me on duty. Given the cost of magickal bullets, it seemed a shame not to take the SIG, too, in case of attack by mundane opponents. There’s no point in carrying a weapon if you can’t get to it, and I stashed each gun in an OWB (Outside the Waistband) holster, put on a hip-length waxed jacket and looked in the mirror. Oh dear.
The Great British Public would think that I was going to a fancy dress party; the Great British Policeman would think that I was an assassin/terrorist and summon reinforcements. I sent a quick text to Hledjolf: How much to build a Glamour into the Hammer to stop me looking like a poor man’s John Wayne?
Would the Dwarf need someone to explain the cultural references? Do Dwarves work Saturdays? I was still trying to find something more concealing when I got an answer to both questions: Your weapon will not take an extra Artefact. We did tell you. We can make a personal amulet for 4oz. You have 3.5oz on deposit.
And I would need at least an ounce for Vicky to summon the Spectre of Thomas Clarke. Great. With a sigh, I unclipped the holsters, leaving the belt in place, and stowed weapons and holsters in my backpack, where they would be of no use whatsoever if I were attacked on the street. It’s a good job I don’t stand out in a crowd. Oh, hang on, that’s exactly what I do do.
I don’t often dwell on my schooldays, but I’ll never forget the Deputy Head stopping on the way out of assembly one day to announce in a very loud voice, ‘Clarke! You are far too tall and distinctive to get away with talking in assembly. Don’t do it again.’ I looked over my shoulder three times on the way to the Tube, and strapped the holsters back in place as soon as I entered the Old Network.
Because of the fearsome lock on the Roman door, I had to access the tunnel from Moley’s diggings, and then open the door from the inside. Hopefully, Vicky and the Earth Master would be waiting for me in the roundhouse junction outside.
As I strode down the tunnels, I wondered if Moley had become human enough to have a concept of the working week, or was it always Mole must dig? I suspect the latter. I didn’t see him on the journey, but I did notice that the new down tunnel had been re-dug, by Mole or others, and that drainage had been installed.
Nothing in the Roman tunnel or the egg chamber had changed since Wednesday, so I heaved on the door and looked out.
My partner and the Chymist were present and correct, standing a few feet beyond the door. From Vicky’s description of his character, I was expecting a funny little man in a bow tie. Wrong. That Deputy Head from my old school had another life lesson for me: Never forget, Clarke, that there will always be someone taller and stronger than you just round the corner. I’m not sure about stronger, but the Earth Master of Salomon’s House is definitely taller, at about six-six, and probably two stone lighter.
If the height/weight ratio didn’t make him stand out, the many fluorescent patches on his running gear would do the job nicely, as would the glow from his shaved head.
I propped open the door, and Vicky made the formal introductions.
‘Chris Kelly,’ he said when we shook hands.
‘Conrad Clarke. Thanks for coming out on a Saturday.’
‘I wasn’t going to miss this. D’you know, I’ve been teaching students, including young Victoria here, in this spot for nearly twenty years, and in all that time, not one of them, or me, had a sniff of that tunnel. Even now the door’s been opened a few times, you can’t see a thing from this side.’
Vicky was standing slightly behind him, and her mouth turned down when he used her Sunday name. It turned down further when I asked my next question.
‘Did no one notice the drain of Lux down to the egg?’
‘I always tell my students to look on the Network as like the public water supply, and this is a major junction.’ He paused to wave his arms around, encompassing the many tunnels leading from the roundhouse. Vicky had anticipated this and stepped out of reach. ‘Try to imagine this as a great lake,’ he continued. ‘Lux is flowing in from there and there, and it’s flowing out down there and there, and mostly it’s flowing that way down to Salomon’s House. If you were standing in five feet of rushing water, would you notice a half-inch pipe below the surface?’
Vicky was making signs behind his back. I think she wanted to move on before he got completely carried away.
‘So, Chris, what can you tell us about the egg chamber?’
‘Let’s have a look.’
I stood aside and gestured down the tunnel.
‘What in Nimue’s name are you doing with that?’ asked Vicky, pointing to my belt, now visible because I’d raised my arm.
‘It’s my Badge of Office,’ I said. ‘Hledjolf named it the Hammer. Do you want to see?’
She looked outraged. ‘No, I do not, thank you. What is it? A laser?’
I took out the Hammer anyway, because Kelly looked interested. ‘No, it’s just a gun. The bullets are charged with Lux, that’s all. I’m working on an idea for a concealed-carry amulet.’
‘Two!’ she squeaked. ‘What are you planning with two guns?’
‘The SIG? That’s just a mundane weapon. Magickal rounds are very expensive. Shame to waste them.’
‘Howay, man, you can’t walk around with two guns. If Hannah finds out, she’ll go ballistic.’
‘Ha ha.’ I pulled my coat shut. ‘Have you ever met a pro rugby player?’
The look in her eyes said that she’d done more than meet one. As I’ve said, Vicky had quite an exotic social life, until I put a stop to it.
‘How would you fancy playing an actual game against them?’ I said. ‘All fifteen of them. On your own.’
‘You what? That would be suicide.’
‘Now you know how I feel in the magickal world. I’m just doing what I can to level the playing field, though I take your point about subtlety.’
‘If we could move on … ?’ said Kelly.
‘Sorry,’ said Vicky and I together.
The Earth Master took off his stringy backpack and unshipped a dowsing rod like none I’d ever seen before. Forget hazel or copper, this was the gnarled fork of some ancient tree, blackened with age, inlaid with gold chasing and fizzing with Lux. He balanced the rod in his hands and stood in the entrance to the tunnel, then moved slowly from left to right until he picked up the scent. ‘Here we go,’ he said with great enthusiasm, and moved swiftly down towards the egg chamber. He reached the scooped-out hollow and circled it before squatting down and feeling the blackened stone lining with his fingertips. ‘Do you know what this rock is?’ he asked.
‘I know it’s not local,’ I said. ‘Did the Dragon bring it with her, do you think?’
He shook his head. ‘You’re half right in both cases. It’s local in origin, but not natural. The Dragon scrapes a mound of earth together, then incinerates it – hotter than lava – before dropping the egg. She chooses a spot with a connection to the Network and
leaves the rest up to fate.
I looked around the chamber with new eyes. ‘If the Romans killed the last Dragon, why did they preserve its eggs?’
He nodded his approval at a good question. ‘When is a Roman not a Roman? When they’re Romano-British.’
Vicky sighed and rolled her eyes, channelling an inner teenager who’s never far from the surface.
Kelly continued, oblivious of Vicky’s attitude. ‘The builder and mosaic maker had learnt their craft from the Romans, but they were still British, and the giveaway is the powerline.’ He gestured back towards the roundhouse. ‘There’s a powerline running back that’s braided, three strands thick. No Roman Earth Master would do that. Their method was two channels, exactly 4’ 8½” apart.’
Vicky spoke up, ‘Which, as I’m sure you know, Conrad, is the same size as the standard gauge on railways.’
I didn’t, as it happens.
Kelly arched his eyebrows. ‘So you do remember something, Victoria.’
She gave him a grin. ‘Only the useless stuff, sir: I can’t remember why the Romans used a twin channel and the Brits braided. It all somehow slipped out of me head the minute I found that I’d finally passed the exam.’
I stepped in between them. ‘Tell me, Chris, when you look at these networks, do you see them as water or electricity?’
He was putting his dowsing rod away, which was not a good sign to me. ‘A bit of both,’ he said. ‘Lux flows and swirls like water, but the physics is more like electricity – there has to be a potential difference between two points for it to flow. Then again, like water, there doesn’t have to be a circuit: it can all flow one way.’ He paused. ‘Vicky tells me you don’t find it easy to sense magick.’
‘That’s a polite way of putting it,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t stop me wanting to learn what everyone else is up to, though. For example, I thought you’d be able to track our egg, but you seem to have finished.’
‘I don’t know what gave you that idea,’ he said, glancing accusingly at Vicky. ‘The Constable and the Warden wanted me to check two things as discreetly as possible, hence the Saturday shift. First, has anyone been maintaining the powerline, and second, did they leave any traces.’ He moved to where Moley’s diggings transected the tunnel. ‘This new route damaged the braid, but otherwise it hasn’t been touched since the first century. As for traces, Vicky didn’t find any, and she’s much better at that sort of thing than I am.’ He gave my partner a big smile.
She blushed and dived to check her phone. ‘It’s the Boss. She wants to see us in her office at Salomon’s House.’
‘Does she want me?’ asked Kelly.
‘Erm, no. Sir, would you mind escorting Conrad to Wyvern Chambers while I answer a call of nature?’
‘A pleasure. Nice to see you again, Victoria.’
She scurried off, leaving me to secure the tunnel and pack my guns away. I gestured to the roundhouse and the sound of Vicky’s footsteps. ‘I know that passage leads to Salomon’s House. What about the rest?’
He started in the north west, and worked his way anti-clockwise. ‘That’s the deep route to the West End and Knightsbridge. Next is a down channel from some of the Collectors – a good illustration that Lux flows uphill. Next is the main highway — it goes to the Old Temple and the Undercroft, then carries on West.’ He swivelled to point due south. ‘That one, as my in-laws would say, goes sarf of the river. There are two routes down there, one is a tunnel to Lambeth Palace and the other leads to the Free Borough.’
‘I might sign up for one of your lectures. This is all fascinating stuff.’
He gave me a sideways look. ‘You actually mean that, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
‘Then I’d love to have you as a student if it wasn’t for the practical element. I’ve wittered on today because I can’t just show you what’s here. If you can’t sense the Lux flowing, it’s a bit meaningless.’
We set off on Vicky’s trail.
‘Is Lux really like electricity?’
‘Yes and no. This gets very complicated because no one truly knows. It flows, it can be stored, but no one knows how it’s generated or where it goes. It’s everywhere at some level, but gets concentrated by human mental activity. Have you heard of JANET?’
‘Something to do with the Internet, isn’t it?’
‘It’s the Joint Academic NETwork, running between universities, and yes, the British Internet grew out of it. There’s one for magick, and it concentrates Lux as a by-product of students’ work. Oxford and Cambridge have been powering Salomon’s House for centuries, and now we have Collectors under UCL, Imperial, King’s, the LSE. If you’ve wondered why Mages choose the disciplines of the Invisible College over the freedom of the Circles, that’s often the answer: access to lots of Lux. Obviously there’s a Collector at every Locus Lucis, too, but nothing like the Network of Albion. I know how to build Collectors, service them and lay powerlines, but I have no idea how they work.’
We came to another junction. Steps led down to the right, another passage to the left, and an impressive arch was straight ahead. Around the arch was carved something in Hebrew. Kelly pointed to the inscription. ‘It says Salomon’s House, that’s all. Those steps down will connect with that new tunnel the Dwarves are creating. It’s mostly used by visitors to Hledjolf’s Hall who don’t have access to Salomon’s House, but it does go on to the Water Margin.’
‘It’s not the Dwarves’ doing. His Worship the Lord Mayor of Moles is digging that tunnel.’
‘Of course. Yes.’ He pointed left. ‘That way to Newton’s House.’
The staff handbook had already told me that Newton’s House was the meeting place and office of the Occult Council. I’d have to wait until I’d got to the red files before I found out what the OC actually was.
Through the arch to Salomon’s House, the stonework was shaped into smaller inset arches, like the west front of a cathedral. At the end was a small but stout door which Kelly opened using magick.
‘This is the South Basement,’ he said.
It wasn’t so much of a basement, more of a concrete box with stairs up and down, the sort of thing you’d expect to find in the nether regions of an abandoned nuclear power plant. He pointed down. ‘That leads to Hledjolf’s Hall, and only Hledjolf’s Hall. We’re going up.’
He started up the stairs, and a thought struck him. ‘You must know a bit about clouds.’
‘My passengers would be rather alarmed if I didn’t.’
‘Quite. You’ll know all about thunderclouds, then.’
‘All is a bit strong, but yes, they’re generally bad news if you’re in a helicopter. Not as bad as a twister, but not something you fly into.’
‘Have you ever wondered why so many of the gods had power over thunder?’
I shrugged. ‘Not top of my inbox.’
‘We think the gods have a knack of combining Lux and the Earth’s magnetic flow to raise or lower electrical charge.’
He was pushing me, ever so gently, but pushing me. Vicky had told me not to mention my ability to sense direction to anyone else, so I just made an interested face and waited for Kelly to open the institutional fire door at the top of the stairs.
We were now at the very bottom of the Junction, and the bare concrete of the stairwell gave way to the baroque fripperies of Salomon’s House. He touched my arm lightly to break the Silence. ‘Over there is the North Basement. It goes much lower than the South one, and leads to most points North and East.’
We started climbing the Junction staircase, but hadn’t gone far before Kelly nudged me into a corridor. ‘Hang on a sec,’ he said, and disappeared.
Kelly’s whistlestop orientation to the Old Network had been very useful, but left me with a lot of places I could name but about which I had no idea. I mentally re-ran the list. The Free Borough. The Old Temple. The Water Margin. And all that was assuming that “Lambeth Palace” actually meant the Archbishop’s residence, and not some Invisible College in-j
oke.
I leaned out into the Junction to touch the glass plate and see where we were.
Gaia Hall
Earth Studies 1-3
The Earth Master
Kelly returned with a poster sized tube. ‘Here. This is a student’s dowsing rod, a map of the Network of Albion and a few suggestions for field work. Try it outdoors some time – you never know, you might get something. Right. Your boss will be wondering where we’ve got to.’
The King’s Watch’s other room in Salomon’s House is a big step up from the conference room next door where I’d been briefed (and insulted) by Desirée.
Room 2, Wyvern Chambers, is a courtesy office for the Constable, and it certainly projects the Watch as an ancient and formidable organisation. Hannah’s desk had a large shield behind it, with an image of Caledfwlch being held by a woman’s hand, an image I’d not seen before. Given the gender of the current Constable, it’s an image I thought she’d have made more of.
The wall opposite the door had a Skyway showing the exact prospect of the Thames from Hannah’s office in Merlyn’s Tower. There was a bookcase full of familiar green, blue and red files, a hospitality sideboard with a boiling kettle, and just enough room for four chairs in front of the desk. Of the five total seats, three were occupied.
Hannah was behind the desk in a grey sweater dress and blue headscarf; Vicky was in front, and had got changed in the time I’d climbed up from the roundhouse, but we’ll come back to that. She was a little out of breath, you could almost say that she was panting, and that was down to the guy standing up to shake my hand.
‘Conrad, this is Richard James,’ said Hannah. ‘He’s the senior Watch Captain – and a major, if you’re counting, which I know you are.’ Hannah did not sound full of good news this morning.