Henry had taken two mouthfuls of food when Meyer appeared at the door to the dining hall. There was a bruise to his face and his expression drooped as he caught Ruth’s eye. She ran across to him and the pair left the room temporarily, before returning five minutes later. The bruise was gone.
“Boy,” Meyer hollered.
He should really be used to it now, but to Henry, being called ‘Boy’ still felt very odd. It wasn’t worth the energy to ask if he could finish lunch first, so Henry followed Meyer outside.
“What happened to your face?” Henry said.
“How did your studies go this morning?” Meyer said, ignoring him.
“Not well.”
“It will come boy, it will come. Unfortunately you are, this instant, to be presented to the council. Do you remember my advice?”
“Now? Don't we have chance to train some more, I'm not ready.”
“My advice?”
“Don’t break?”
“Exactly. Don't break and you will be fine, trust me.”
Meyer led Henry down the marble staircase to the ground floor, and then around the back of them. As they moved across, another set of stairs became visible. He stopped for a second and, taking a step back, watched the stairs disappear. It was like a 3D effect picture that only reveals certain parts from the right angle, God this magic thing was awesome.
They moved round a corridor on the basement level and into a large sitting area with a solemn pair of black doors to one side. Meyer went in first and Henry followed him.
“In the centre boy, good luck,” Meyer said.
The room was filled by a doughnut shaped table, a small gap in it allowed Henry to walk into the centre. Around him, he could make out the rough outlines of men and women seated around the table, their features lost in the shadow, the light from the skylight making it difficult for him to see anything.
“Good afternoon Henry,” said a voice from straight ahead, it was Wade.
“Good afternoon,” Henry said.
Meyer had taken a seat around the table, his rotund silhouette not difficult to discern even in the poor light.
“Do you know why you are here?” Wade said.
“To be sworn in.”
“Indeed, but first there are some basic questions you must answer, it is part of tradition. Master Ione.”
He indicated to a woman to his left. Henry could just make her out, although her exact features were lost to him. She was Chinese, her bone structure delicate, and she sat with an element of grace Henry had never seen before, poised in her seat as if hovering slightly above it.
“I am Ione, Doyen of Viva. My question for you Henry is, what are the three abilities of an alternate?” she said, her voice calm and as graceful as her form.
“Alternates are gifted with genetic memory, a power and a charm,” Henry said.
“Good and what makes an Ink different?” Ione said.
“We can switch between the charms and induce the glimmer in others.”
“And what can you tell me about the power I am master of?”
“Those with the Viva power, of the Vitalists as they are known, can manipulate life energy itself. For example, increasing it via their healing ability or taking it away, as a Vampiris does.”
“What are the two hybrid types that utilise Viva?”
“The Dragos, which combine Life and Physical abilities. They have an extra mutation which allows them to reduce the pain they feel, but they can be ruthless and are not always very empathetical. The other type is Vampiris, they drain life from others to revive themselves and, as their extra mutation, they are incredibly quick. The Vampiris are a mixture of Life and Mentalism powers.”
“That is correct Henry. One last question from me. What does it mean to live?”
It seemed a bit of an odd question, Henry was unsure of exactly how to answer it.
“Biologically?”
Ione didn't answer, in fact, she didn't move at all.
“To live from a biological sense, is to exist as a living organism, but I don't think that is what you are asking. To live is to do more than exist, to take charge of the world around you, to be the master of your own destiny,” Henry said.
He wasn't sure where that answer came from but, as Ione smiled, he thought it was probably a fair reply to the question.
“Master Niamh,” Wade said.
“Henry, I am Master Niamh, Doyen of Navitas. What can you tell me about my power?”
Her voice was posh and if Henry was honest, quite sexy. Henry found himself focusing on her lips which naturally parted slightly. Her eyes were huge and, even in the dark, Henry could see the slight shimmer of gold in them from her power.
“Master Niamh, Navitas or Potentials are those with the power to manipulate energy fields. Before you ask, the two hybrids that share this power are the Alesh, who also have access to Vis, or the power of force. Besides being what humans would naturally call a witch, as their power allows massive manipulation over the physical world, the Alesh can almost instantly mirror any action they see. Unfortunately, they are impulsive and unpredictable, which combined with their power makes them feared even in the alternate community. The other hybrid is the Grol, who use the Energy power for mechanical means and have access to the Mentalism trait which they use for trade.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. Why did you presume?” Niamh said.
“I…”
“You should not presume Henry Fellows, especially not with me.”
“I apologise.”
“I was to ask you a question of magus, but it feels unnecessary now. There is one further thing I wish to ask you however. How do you have fun, Henry Fellows?”
The question took him aback, it was a bit more personal than the abstract question before. Was there even a right way to answer this?
“I don’t.”
She smiled and Henry was sure he heard her laugh softly, “Well that will never do. How do others have fun then?”
“By reinforcing the fact they are alive.”
“And you do not need such reinforcement?”
“No and I certainly don't need reminding, brushes with death make one appreciate life in ways difficult to explain.”
“Like make you wish you made the most of your opportunities in life? In love?”
“Yes.”
“And what is love Henry?”
“I wish I knew.”
“I think you may know already, but that isn't for me to decide. Master Robin, your turn.”
Master Robin was the shortest of the figures around the table, with a pot belly that rested on the lip of the table. His most obvious feature was a full orange beard which he stroked slowly, as if petting a cat.
“The hybrids that share my power Henry are the R’hard and the Dragos. What am I the master of?” Robin said.
“Corpus or the Physicalists,” Henry said, not letting a breath pass. “The power enables you to be stronger, faster, more resilient, or adept in some physical way when compared to ordinary humans. Your power manipulates body composition, which you can trigger as and when needed. R’hard also have access to the force power, which they use only in terms of manipulating their physical abilities and they are renowned for their temper. They do not feel fear. The Dragos, we have already covered.”
“Quick and not too bad for a human upbringing. What is a charm?”
“A charm is an ability of the magus, that sits beyond the powers. There are five, naturally. These are, Changer, the ability to change your power; Diviner, the ability to manipulate your powers to reveal snippets of the past and future; Second Sight, the ability to detect other alternates; then there is the ability to instil magus in objects and lastly, the ability to transfer it into living creatures.”
“Can you demonstrate any for me?”
Demonstrate? Henry might be good at reading up on theory, but as this morning had proved, practical skills were not his forte.
Henry scanned across the room making e
ye contact with each member of the table. “Out of the thirteen members of the council, I detect two mentalists, two forcefuls, one vitalist and one potential. There is also one R’hard and, if I am not mistaken, a Vampiris. The others must be Inquisitors as I cannot detect anything in them.”
Robin smiled, “That will do nicely.”
“Lastly, Master Oberon,” Wade said.
“Why the hell are you so useless Henry Fellows?” Oberon said. He was a broad man whose gown seemed to billow around him as he leant forward intently, his voice deep and booming.
“I beg your pardon.”
“I have been watching you and you should be ashamed at your lack of ability.”
“I-”
“There is no excuse, you are wasting our time.”
“I didn’t choose-”
“And believe me, neither did we. Why can you not grasp the most simple of concepts, why are you here?”
“Because Master Oberon, Doyen of Vis, I am an Inquisitor by blood. Do you have any questions for me, or are you just going to shout?”
“You know you are most likely to die, don’t you?”
“Guess we will see, although that really isn’t a very good question. I do have one for all of you though,” Henry said.
“A question for us? This is not an open discussion,” Oberon said.
“Do I look as if I care? What I want to know is who murdered my father and why you all trying to keep it a secret?”
- Chapter 31 -
If only I were scary
“Be careful what accusations you make, boy,” Oberon said.
His voice echoed in Henry’s chest, the weight of it making him feel as if he were back in school.
“Mark was killed by Grendal, who you all claim to be just some crazed serial killer, but if there is one thing I know since being introduced to this world, is that everything you lot say is a lie. Did my father find out something about one of you that made him too dangerous to live?”
“Maybe you should look at the evidence first Henry, before you make accusations you cannot support. I can appreciate your anger, but this is not the place to vent it,” Ione said.
“I agree,” Robin said. “Let us strike this outburst from record and carry on. I believe you have passed all of our tests, unless you have something to add Oberon?”
Oberon did not speak, continuing to stare at Henry, unblinking.
“Henry Fellows, I fear you are likely to cause this council more trouble that you are worth,” Wade said. “That said, you have passed these tests, tonight is the last gateway before your admittance to this order. You will accompany Tristan on his patrol and he will deliver your assessment, do you understand?”
“I... understand,” Henry said reluctantly.
The rest of the proceedings went fairly quickly, Henry had to repeat an oath of allegiance to the Inquisition and then they were done. Meyer and Wade stood talking after the other Doyens had left, although no sound passed through the entrance to the council chamber, as Henry waited outside.
A hand grasped Henry’s shoulder and spinning around, he was met by a tall man in his early twenties, with a rugby players build.
“You must be Henry. My name is Jonathan, I am apprentice to Master Oberon. You have put him in quite a mood,” Jonathan said with a thick Welsh accent, the inflection of his voice rising on the last word.
“Is he always so-”
“Calm? Yes, but he’s incredibly skilled and if you are looking for someone you can trust is doing the right thing, he's your man. You can’t trust everyone here you know.”
“It’s dawning on me.”
“Be careful. From what I’ve heard, you don't need any more enemies than you already have. I'm investigating Mark's death by the way, I'm sorry to say, we've found out very little.”
“Little you can share you mean? Wade wants me kept in the dark.”
“I mean we've found nothing. Look, I share your distrust of Wade, but you need to keep him on side, he’s... powerful. Anyway, I have to go. Good luck tonight Henry, just remember, don’t let Tristan push you into anything. He’s a good’n, but appears to have picked up Oberon’s temper. Swear the guy would have been R’hard if he wasn’t an Ink. And please, if you need anything, just give me a shout.”
“Actually, there is one thing that I hoped you could tell me about. Why is Meyer no longer on the council?”
“Hasn’t he told you?”
“I didn’t want to ask him.”
“It’s common knowledge around here. Meyer’s son was an Inquisitor, the blood line from his mother. He went off the rails after Meyer’s wife died and, apparently, in his rage he killed a doyen called Margaret. Wade had him executed. Meyer tried to stop him and fought publicly with Wade, but Xander was hung. Now this bit is off the record, but is what everyone says happened, so I’ll tell you what I was told. That moment, when the floor dropped and the snapping noise filled the chamber, Wade laughed. Meyer then knocked out a few of Wade’s teeth and had to be dragged off him by Ruth.”
“By god, I-”
“Xander wasn't responsible. It turned out that a rogue Inquisitor was to blame and had framed Meyer’s son, but that couldn't reverse what had happened. His wife and son were dead, he was alone. For what he had done to Wade, he was struck from the council and then, as you cannot simply leave the Inquisition, he was sent to work for Helena as... penance. As you can imagine, Wade and him have not been on the best of terms since.”
“Why could he not leave?”
“Because if you leave the Inquisition, you are executed. We hold too many secrets to be allowed to roam free, the only escape is death.”
- Chapter 32 -
Trials
To say that dinner was tense would have been an understatement. Gabriel was muted, offering a half smile on the one occasion he caught Henry’s eye, all the while nobody discussed what had happened in the council chamber.
After a whiskey from Meyer for good luck, Tristan, Gabriel and Henry walked to Holborn station, taking the underground to Camden Town. As they left the station, Henry watched Tristan as he moved through the crowds. Every step he took was measured, scanning his surroundings, ready to react to whatever was thrown his way. He was like a panther amongst deer, generating a subliminal tension in everyone he passed.
“You should try go and talk to Tristan, not hang around with me just gorping at him.” Gabriel said. “I’m stuck with you until one of us dies, Tristan is only here for the training period. Who knows, maybe if you warm up to him, there’s a better chance he’ll give you a pass.”
“And how do I warm up to him?”
“Oh yeah, forgot who I was talking to. Don’t smile, it’s creepy when you do that. Ask questions, seem interested, and be nice.”
“I am nice.”
“Henry, nice isn’t exactly the word people would choose to describe you, is it?”
“Why?”
“You’re rude, push people away and snub advances from people who try to be friendly to you. Now I know-”
“-I’m a poor excuse for a human being.”
“Hey, I didn’t quite say that. Put on an act, just for tonight. Be nice.”
Henry begrudgingly caught up with Tristan.
“So, I thought I would-”
“Shut up,” Tristan said.
The instant chemistry between the two of them was unmistakable. Great idea Gabriel.
“I just-”
“Shut up,” Tristan repeated.
Well, damn him then. Henry continued in silence, wishing he had replied with some witty remark or, at the very least, grunted in some manly fashion. He hadn’t however and as Henry knew, conversation starters were not something that came naturally to him.
Camden market was enclosed mostly, housed within the converted stables, echoes of the past purpose of the place spilling out of new facades. The smell of a dozen cuisines filled the air, market sellers trying to grab your attention with every turn, the echoes of bargaining reverberatin
g along the cobbled streets. In a lot of ways, it reminded Henry of what he had seen in the under-city, Camden market desperately trying to emanate an aura of magic and mystique that the under-city tried so hard to disguise.
Tristan took them along a row of stalls that were hidden deep within the depths of the stables, stopping in front of a teenager with long greasy hair who was selling tea to a gullible tourist.
“Goo-good evening Tri-Tristan,” the teen stuttered.
“We just need passage Luke,” Tristan said.
“Of course, of course,” Luke said. “Would you like some tea?”
Tristan shot Luke a look and he flinched in reaction.
“Just the door it is then.”
Leaving his tourist examining some large glass pots of tea leaves at the side of the shop, Luke pulled back a tattered curtain, gesturing for them to go through. Tristan shoved him to the side, roughing the boy’s hair as he lead the way into a long damp alleyway, Gabriel and Henry struggling to keep up with him.
As Henry entered the alleyway, Henry was yanked back as someone grabbed his shoulder tightly. “Don’t trust anyone Henry, you hear me?” Luke said.
“How do you know who I am? If you know something, you’ve got to tell me,” Henry said.
Henry looked down the alleyway. Gabriel and Tristan were going through without him.
“Someone in the Inquisition is not who they say they are, I can’t say anymore. In fact, I’ve already said too much,” Luke said.
With that, Luke shoved Henry hard down the alleyway. Stumbling, but managing to keep his feet, Henry was momentarily distracted by the push against his thoughts from the distraction field protecting the under-city, before staggering out into the under-city.
“You took your time getting through. Everything okay?” Gabriel said, waiting for him as he exited the stall.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Henry said, his instinctive reaction to lie. “He was just trying to sell me some tea.”
“That scrawny kid makes a fortune from that God awful stuff. I hope you didn’t buy any.”
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