“Yes,” I said, and explained my reasoning. “It’s heavily warded. I can’t break the wards.”
“That’s your problem,” Zadornov said. “I suggest you think - and think hard.”
I felt my heart sink. “Sir ... I know very little about wards.”
“Then Master Travis didn’t teach you as well as you thought,” Zadornov said. “There’s no such thing as an unbreakable ward. You just have to figure out the key to get inside.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Can I borrow a wardbreaker?”
Zadornov laughed, as if I’d said something funny. And yet, it was a humourless sound.
“You do realise that the hall is surrounded by powerful wards, don’t you?” His eyes sparkled with cold amusement. “How would you get the wardbreaker into the hall without setting off the alarms?”
I flinched. “There must be some way to do it.”
Zadornov reached out and clapped my shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I said. There was no point in trying to hide it. I knew next to nothing about ward construction and maintenance, let alone how to take them down without setting off a hundred alarms. “Where would you start?”
“Well.” Zadornov drawled out the word. “I would consider what the wards were actually doing, and who created them, and how I might find gaps in the defences I could use to sneak through them. You don’t have to smash a ward spellform to defeat it. You merely have to find a way to convince it that you have permission to step right through.”
“Oh,” I said. “And how would I do that?”
Zadornov gave me a sly smile. “Think about it,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I looked down at the table. I’d assumed Zadornov knew how to break into a house, but ... what if he didn’t? What if he was just giving me meaningless platitudes to cover up his ignorance? House Bolingbroke was heavily defended, with everything from powerful wards to armsmen patrolling the grounds. I was fairly sure there were defences I hadn’t seen too. I certainly hadn’t heard any stories about successful thefts while I’d been working there. I found it hard to believe that there wouldn’t be some chatter if someone had managed to break into the house and steal something ...
“You do, however, have another concern,” Zadornov said. “You’re running out of time.”
I looked up, sharply. “What do you mean?”
Zadornov’s voice was hard. “I mean you’re running out of time.”
“Why?” I stared at him. “You never mentioned a time limit.”
“I do tend to think that time limits are fairly obvious, don’t you?” Zadornov ignored my look of shock. “And besides, there are other considerations here. I suggest you start planning to get into that compartment and find that notebook within the next two weeks. Otherwise ...”
I shuddered. He didn’t have to spell it out. Zadornov could send the City Guard a message, telling them exactly where to find me. Or he could contact House Bolingbroke itself and warn them about the intruder in their midst. Or he could carry out his threat against my family. I wondered, bitterly, if he knew about Ginny. If he did, Ginny was at risk too. The Hiring Hall would not be pleased if they found out she’d been buying forged characters. She would probably be fired on the spot.
Even though Lucinda said I did good work , I thought, morbidly. I hadn’t considered simply giving up and allowing myself to fall into House Bolingbroke’s small army of faceless servants, but it had never really been an option. Sooner or later, my cover will be blown or Reginald will recognise me or something else that will bring the whole affair to a crashing halt.
“I understand,” I said, tiredly. “I’ll do my best.”
Zadornov beamed. “That’s all I ask.”
I shook my head. Zadornov might or might not have told me something useful. I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t know how to use what he’d told me. I wondered, darkly, if Zadornov really cared that much about the notebook. Surely, he’d find another way to get his hands on it - or gain leverage over Reginald - if he was really that desperate. Was whatever was in the notebook truly worth five hundred golds? It seemed unlikely. But Master Travis had been a genius. He might just have stumbled on something completely new.
“Good luck,” Zadornov said. “Your young man will visit you, I’m sure. You can give him a message for me, if you wish.”
“He isn’t my young man,” I said, sullenly. I wanted to kick Clive somewhere delicate. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’d somehow managed to get me in more trouble. “And I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to walk out with him anyway.”
Zadornov shrugged. “Find a way.”
I looked down in sullen hopelessness. Jill had warned me that Lucinda wouldn’t tolerate any affairs amongst the household staff, even as she turned a blind eye to anything involving the aristocracy. Clive wasn’t staff, but could I go walking out with him without getting fired? I felt a surge of bitter hatred, directed at everyone from Clive to Zadornov himself. I was caught in a web I couldn’t escape, no matter what I did. I was going to spend the rest of my life hiding from powerful enemies ...
Assuming I don’t get my throat cut the moment I bring him the notebook , I thought. I had no faith in Zadornov’s willingness to keep his promises. He’ll find it safer not to keep me around .
I started to stand, then stopped. “Reginald is clearly up to something,” I said. “Do you know what?”
“No,” Zadornov said. “But I do expect you to find out.”
I winced. I’d hoped that Zadornov would have heard something . “I’ll do my best,” I promised. “And I’ll send a message through Clive when I have something to say.”
“Remember, you’re running out of time,” Zadornov said. He nodded towards the door as the waiter scurried over to the table. “You can go now.”
I stood and brushed down my dress, showing what little rebellion I could by deliberately not dropping him a curtsey before I departed. Zadornov showed no reaction as I hurried away, leaving me unsure if he’d chosen to ignore it or simply hadn’t recognised the insult for what it was. Master Travis had taught me to show respect to all shoppers - and Lucinda would have gone through the roof if I’d failed to show respect to the family - but Zadornov came from a very different world. He might not have cared if I curtsied or not. Or he might have made a mental note of it and resolved to punish me later.
It felt cooler outside as I left the cafe and hurried back up the streets. The skies were starting to darken as rain-filled clouds made their slow way over the city. The crowds were slowly starting to disperse into the shops and restaurants, save for a handful of hardy boys and girls who were still playing in the surf. I couldn’t help thinking that they looked stupid as rain started to patter down, splashing off the pavement and running into the road. But I doubted they cared about my opinion. I muttered a waterproofing charm as I pulled my cloak over my head, reminding myself that I was a wanted fugitive. It had been easy to forget while I’d been hidden in Bolingbroke Hall. The City Guard weren’t allowed to enter without special permission.
I scowled as I reached the gates and hurried around to the servants’ entrance, trying to ignore the handful of armsmen on patrol. No matter how much they smiled and waved, their presence was a grim reminder that I had walked back into the lion’s den. The City Guard wouldn’t be called if I were caught, not if I was trying to break into a Great House. They were practically a law unto themselves. I’d be killed out of hand, once their armsmen had finished interrogating me. I wondered just what would happen to Reginald if they did interrogate me. He’d gone to some trouble to cover his tracks. He was clearly up to something .
Of course Reginald is up to something , I thought. I stepped through the door and pulled off my cloak, hanging it on the line to dry. But what?
Chapter Twenty-Five
I had no time to think about it as I returned to work at Bolingbroke Hall. Lucinda caught me as I r
eached the kitchens and promptly assigned me a whole string of new duties, ranging from mopping the floor in a private dining chamber to taking several trays of food up the stairs to the gambling room. I carefully didn’t point out that I was technically still on leave, at least until sunset. Lucinda was just looking for an excuse to take her anger out on someone. Instead, I did as I was told. There was no point in picking a fight.
I’d expected the hall to empty, now the ball was over, but it looked as if half of the house guests who’d come for the ball had failed to take the hint and go home. I noted dozens of new faces, people who expected me to know them on sight ... I couldn’t help wondering, as I carried yet another bottle of expensive wine to the gaming tables, if some of the guests were frauds. It would be easy to pose as a distant relative, secure in the knowledge that no one would dare to admit that they didn’t know your name. I would have been tempted to try if I hadn’t known my eyes would mark me as an intruder. There were only a handful of aristocratic half-castes in Shallot and everyone would know their names.
The thought kept me warm as I deftly avoided an elderly gentleman’s wandering hands and an unsubtle invitation to sit on his knee. The man didn’t look particularly put out as I slipped away, although I didn’t find it reassuring. Jill had warned me to be careful around the older guests, the ones who had done their duty by the family and then retreated into pleasure. I hurried back down the stairs, silently relieved that Reginald was nowhere to be seen. He would have made the invitation a little more compulsory.
Damn him , I thought. I needed to get back into his quarters, but I wasn’t that desperate. Not yet. What am I going to do ?
It didn’t get any better the following morning. Lucinda snared Jill and I before we even had a chance to order breakfast and sent us to clean and tidy a number of rooms. My stomach growled as I swept up the dust, cleaned the toilets and everything else that had to be done to keep the rooms liveable. I wondered, darkly, just who was living in the rooms - and why they showed so little consideration. But then, I supposed it was easy to be inconsiderate if someone else was cleaning up afterwards. My mother would have been furious if I’d expected her to tidy up after me.
“Cook will have kept some food back for us,” Jill assured me, as we made our tired way back down the stairs. I hadn’t slept well at all. My dreams had been full of dark shadows. “And we can have a short break.”
“As long as Lucinda doesn’t catch us,” I said. It would almost be worth getting in trouble just to be able to pour some coffee down my throat. “Why is she so ... irritated ?”
Jill winked. “The mistress was not happy about the ball,” she said. “And Lucinda got in trouble for it.”
I felt a flicker of unwilling sympathy as we hurried into the kitchen. Cook looked up as we entered and nodded curtly, then pointed to a charmed cabinet. We took our plates and hurried over to the table, eating as quickly as we could. Neither of us expected to be allowed to finish our breakfast in peace. Lucinda would find us something else to do, even if she had to loan us to one of the other departments. The house was definitely filling up with guests. I considered the problem as I poured myself a second mug of coffee. Something was clearly going on.
“Jill,” I started. “What’s happening ...”
I stopped as Lucinda strode into the kitchen and marched over to us. “I trust that you two have finished your breakfasts,” she said, eying our plates as if they had personally offended her. We hadn’t quite finished. “I have specific duties for you.”
Jill and I exchanged glances. “Yes, Miss.”
Lucinda’s eyes bored into mine. “Rebecca. I was given to understand that you waited on Lady Younghusband from time to time. Correct?”
“Yes, Miss,” I lied. “But only once or twice.”
“She did have some trouble keeping servants, didn’t she?” Lucinda seemed amused, even though everyone knew that she had trouble keeping servants. I found it hard to believe that anyone who had any alternative would willingly put up with Lucinda indefinitely. Ginny had told me that House Bolingbroke’s servants tended to go elsewhere fairly quickly. “You must have been quite young. And exotic.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said.
“You will report to Lord Anton’s chambers and wait on him, as per instructions,” Lucinda said. “You will do whatever he tells you to do.”
I swallowed. I really didn’t like the sound of that. “Yes, Miss.”
Jill touched my hand once Lucinda had swept away. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It isn’t as if you’re waiting on him .”
Reginald , I thought. It wasn’t a particularly reassuring thought. I suppose that would be worse .
I finished my breakfast and hurried up the stairs to Lord Anton’s chambers. The Patriarch of Bolingbroke Hall had an entire floor to himself, although much of it appeared to be devoted to offices and workrooms rather than his personal use. I dropped a curtsey as I passed a pair of worried-looking secretaries talking in hushed voices, too busy with their own concerns to pay much notice to me. The guards outside Lord Anton’s door eyed me suspiciously as I approached, then relaxed when they saw my eyes. They looked me up and down - I could feel the wards poking and prodding at me - and then opened the door. I nodded my thanks and stepped inside.
The room was magnificent. I stared, unable to comprehend the sheer leave of wealth that had been poured into the chamber. The walls were lined with gold-edged paintings, the furniture was handcrafted by experts ... even a handful of Objects of Power had been placed against the walls. A giant family tree hung from one wall, showing every known member of the family from the Thousand-Year Empire to the present day. Reginald’s name was nowhere to be seen. I had no trouble spotting Lord Anton’s legitimate children, but not the bastard. I guessed Reginald hated the chamber. The family tree was a constant reminder that he wasn’t truly part of the family.
I braced myself, then walked into the bedchamber. Lord Anton was sitting up in bed, a wooden table resting in front of him. It looked as if someone had neatly combined a bed with a workplace, allowing a bedridden man to still accomplish something . Dozens of papers lay on the table written in a spidery hand. There was no sign of Lady Antonia. I wondered, morbidly, if Lord Anton and his wife didn’t share a bed. I knew she had chambers of her own ...
Lord Anton looked up at me. “You must be the exotic ,” he said. He studied me for a long moment. “I hope that you are more than just a curiosity.”
I felt myself flush and hoped my skin would hide it. “No, My Lord,” I said. “I have been sent to wait on you.”
“Hah.” Lord Anton jabbed a finger at the wall. “Stand there and look pretty. If I want something, I’ll tell you.”
I kept my surprise off my face as I hurried over to the wall and waited. What was I doing here? Lord Anton couldn’t just want me to stand still, could he? What was the point? I turned to face him, half-expecting to be given another command, but he’d already turned his attention back to the paperwork. It took longer than it should have done for me to realise that merely having me - or someone - in the room was the point. Lord Anton was rich and powerful enough to have someone standing idle, even though he could have summoned a servant at any moment. He probably had a small army of footmen and secretaries waiting on him hand and foot.
Lord Anton paid me no heed as he scanned the paperwork, sometimes muttering to himself in anger as he wrote sharp little notes of his own and dropped the papers back in the box. I studied him thoughtfully, trying to decide what was wrong with him. He looked weak, sweat clearly visible on his forehead; he moved with short jerky motions, as if he had to think about what he was doing before he actually did it. It was hard to believe that he was the same man I’d seen at the ball. I wondered, as the minutes slowly ticked by, if someone had posed as Lord Anton during the ball. It wouldn’t have been that hard to maintain the illusion in Bolingbroke Hall. Lord Anton commanded the wards.
I felt my attention start to wander, despite my best efforts; I look
ed around the room, realising that it was as much an office as a bedroom. Giant cabinets lined the walls, stuffed to bursting with books, manuscripts and paperwork; smaller piles of ledgers lay everywhere, as if they’d been piled up randomly by the servants. It looked as if I was standing in the nerve centre of House Bolingbroke itself. Here was where the real decisions were made, decisions that would affect the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Zadornov would probably give up his magic for a chance to poke around the room. The slightest hint of just what was going to happen, in the next few weeks, might make the difference between earning a fortune and spending the rest of his days in penury. And yet, it was boring.
The Alchemist's Apprentice Page 25