by Mark Hayden
These badges were identical in all but colour, but they had very different implications for the three of us. Mina, having no magick, would have to wear hers all the time. She picked the blue one and started fastening it to her kurti.
Saffron chose white and gave it a good rub. For her, it was a simple exercise in using her Sight. ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed, staring over the water. Mina got her badge fixed and joined in Saffron’s admiring gaze.
Saff dropped the depleted Artefact back into Lena’s hand without looking, and Lena offered me the remaining, red, badge. ‘Shall we go?’ she said. ‘The luggage is loaded.’
I took out my handkerchief and Lena dropped the badge into it. ‘I’ll wait until we’re moving,’ I explained.
Michael cast us off and the Ferrymistress backed away from the jetty. I left the passenger lounge and walked across the open deck to the bow. She swung the boat around and I closed my eyes. I took the badge in my left hand and opened my Sight.
Later this afternoon, I had to fly that H155 over the river and land it on the lawns of Pellacombe. Leah uses her Mowbray ring to do it, but that’s not an option for me. Her ring is a symbol of her status, pledged to the Mowbrays. I have drunk from Nimue’s hand and that relationship is monogamous, I’m afraid. And before you point out that I’m the Swordbearer to Clan Flint and that I wear Odin’s ring, those relationships are different. The appointment to Clan Flint is just that – an appointment, not a pledge, and my association with the Allfather is just that – an association.
I was keeping my eyes closed because that’s how I perceive magick best: by feeling it. The badge’s flat surface became alive with swirling lines of Lux. They flowed out of the one inch disk and hovered in the air; I couldn’t see them, of course, so I held out my hand, like holding it over an electric hob to feel the heat.
The badge was in my left hand, and it was drawing Lux from me to project the pattern. My head was already starting to throb. I lowered my fingers, resisting the reflex to pull away. The heat burned but didn’t destroy. Not yet. I ran my fingers over the lines, seeking order in the chaotic swirl of energy. It was like putting your hand into a bag full of angry snakes and trying to count them as they slipped under and over each other.
But what if there were only one snake? There. I found an end and pinched it. I passed it to my left hand and held on, following the length of the line with my right. It crossed itself, retraced itself and tried to tie my fingers in knots, burning and searing them as it moved. I was gritting my teeth and suppressing a scream when I finally found the other end, and when I did, not only did the pattern make sense, it wrapped itself round my arm and dissolved into my skin. A tiny part of me was now in tune with the essence of Pellacombe.
If that sounds scary, it isn’t. It’s no different to knowing how to lift that awkward kitchen drawer that sticks – instinctive. All the badge had done is lay that instinct bare in symbolic magick. I opened my eyes and drank in the true glory of Pellacombe.
The farmhouse was still there, facing the river, but now it was only one storey high and formed a bank, with the Mowbray mansion above and behind it. The real Pellacombe was also built from grey granite and grey slate, but that seemed a technical detail of construction compared to the shape, the angles and the acres of glass that made it a thoroughly modern architect’s dream house. The thinner windows had pointed tops that hinted at gothic, and a couple of the larger balconies resembled the verandas of a cruise ship. Even the many chimneys had been gathered together like those of a steamship. Surely they couldn’t need them all? No new house is that reliant on fossil fuels.
And it was definitely new. Lord Mowbray had inherited only the original farmhouse and lands, his mother being the younger sibling and Kellysporth being the main family seat. When he became successful, Mowbray had sliced the top off the farmhouse and built himself a Mage’s palace fit for the twenty-first century, complete with solar panels covering the steeply pitched roof slates.
Most of the forest had disappeared with the illusion, replaced by glimpses of gardens on the upper terraces. The boathouse had doubled or trebled in size and gained a concrete dock with twin piers. A selection of powered and sailing craft were moored low in the water, too low to use at this tide, hence the flat bottom of the ferry.
A warm presence approached me. Two. Scout tried unsuccessfully to jump on to the bow platform, and Mina stooped to lift him up. ‘Don’t fall in, OK?’ she admonished.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘It’s perfect,’ she replied. ‘Like your manners. Lena keeps looking out at you from the lounge. You’ve got another admirer.’
She made it a statement, not an accusation. The reason she doesn’t get jealous – I think – is that she makes sure that any women I’m close to (Vicky, Hannah, Myfanwy etc.) are also close to her.
‘What’s Saff doing?’ I asked.
‘Ignoring Lena and sending messages on her phone. You’re right – Saffron needs to learn a little humility before she comes a cropper.’
I turned to face the lounge and gave Lena a big smile and a thumbs-up. She smiled back and crossed to the wheelhouse. The Ferrymistress had been taking the longest, slowest route across the river to give me every chance to crack the pattern. She opened the throttle and headed for the empty south pier. Another reception committee emerged from the boathouse and came to wait. It looked like Mina would have her wish to meet Leah granted after all.
9 — By Land
Leah Kershaw perched on a bollard and a woman who could only be her mother put a protective arm around her shoulders.
‘You made it!’ said Leah. ‘Thank goodness for that.’
I made the introductions (it was her mother), and Mina tried to hide her disappointment when Leah said that she wasn’t going to be around much, and not at all once I’d managed to land the chopper at Pellacombe.
‘Do you want me with you for preflight?’ asked Leah.
‘Thanks, but if I can’t do it on my own, I’m in trouble,’ I replied.
She nodded. ‘Then I’ll be waiting at the LZ for you coming in. Good luck, sir. Not that you’ll need it.’
‘You taught him well, did you?’ said Saffron, giving me that I’m a better Mage than you look.
Leah blinked at her. ‘Conrad is the best pilot I’ve ever flown with. Bar none. You’ll see.’
Saffron had the grace to look embarrassed and said nothing.
A minibus was being loaded with our luggage, and Lena offered us a lift. I looked at the girls. ‘I’d rather walk,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind. I’ve been sitting down too long already today.’
‘A walk, please,’ said Mina. ‘Only slowly. Scout has very short legs.’
Lena took a moment to process that, and nodded dubiously. ‘I shall escort you and practise the talk I must give tomorrow.’
The afternoon sun was on our right as we ambled up the path. Its rays picked out the tightly bonded granite blocks in the mansion and brought the gardens to life. The more Saffron saw of the house, the grounds and the Wards (Lena was giving a magickal talk, too, but that went over my head), the more that Saffron was impressed by how much Lord Mowbray had achieved and by how many staff wore his ring. We saw several men tending the gardens, and Lena said that they’d been drafted in from the farms and woods to make sure that everything was just so for the Daughters’ arrival tomorrow.
‘And the pub will close,’ said Lena. We looked at each other. ‘The Mowbray Arms,’ she explained. ‘In the village. All the staff will be here. Tourists will pass by and not notice. It often happens.’
‘That’s so smart!’ said Saffron. There was definitely jealousy now, and Lady Hawkins will be on the receiving end of some suggestions about running Cherwell Roost fairly soon, I’m sure.
We got to the level of the mansion and could see that its most impressive side faced a manicured lawn. At the end of the lawn was an elegant summerhouse with views over the river.
Lena pointed to the grass. ‘
Do not land the helicopter on this. I will never forgive you if you do. We shall see your …’ she waved her hand. ‘Your Hubschrauberlandeplatz. Ach. What is the word?’
I knew that one. ‘Helipad.’
‘Helipad. Good. This way. I am glad that no one has heels.’
Below the knee-length dirndl, Lena wore a sturdy pair of fell shoes that matched her sturdy calf muscles. She led us across the lawn, up yet another path and on to the plateau above the house. A separate set of steps and an accessible path led down from the plateau to a formal entrance on the eastern side of the house. The minibus was there at the moment, for a few seconds, until a young surfer drove it away.
The grass on the top plateau hadn’t been cared for nearly as much as the south lawn, and it was browning from lack of water, which made the bands of artificial turf stand out even more. They formed a huge circle and bullseye that would make landing a lot easier. The centre even had a radio transmitter buried underneath it.
‘Alles ist gut?’ said Lena. I nodded. ‘Then come.’ We descended the steps to the main entrance and our third welcome.
Despite the publicity, the sun does not always shine in Cornwall. A lot of the time it rains, and visitors to Pellacombe can shelter under a canopy that straddles the road, as can the hosts while they wait. The more I saw of Pellacombe, the less I could work out whether it reminded more of Downton Abbey or of a really top class, five star country house hotel.
Cador and Eseld Mowbray flanked their cousin Ethan in the doorway. All were dressed casually, and all had at least one item of Mowbray blue clothing. For the men it was a polo shirt with boar’s head crest and jeans; for Eseld it was a long-sleeved blue athletic top (also with crest) over black jodhpurs and long socks. Her face was flushed from exercise – Leah had told me that Eseld loves to ride and has several horses. The spikes in her hair had collapsed from sweat and wearing a helmet.
As we descended the steps, Saffron whispered, ‘It’s like a bloody cult round here. Who wears a shirt with their own crest on it?’
Mina nodded her Indian nod, and I let her reply. ‘Some of the world’s most successful businesses do it. Even the chief executive.’
Saffron’s face said what she thought of that idea. She quickly switched to a smile when we got to the bottom of the steps.
Lena presented us, and I got a good look at her fiancé. Ethan Mowbray was much shorter than Cador, and squarer in shape. He had the Mowbray colouring of black hair and blue eyes, but none of the others’ poise or expensive skin-care routines. He was in his late thirties, and wrinkles had already spread around eyes that never wavered from mine during the introductions.
Lena stepped aside and Ethan spoke. ‘On behalf of Lord Mowbray, welcome to Pellacombe. Please accept our hospitality and enter in peace and fellowship.’
I accepted on behalf of the group and everyone shook hands or made namaste. We were now guests, under Ethan’s protection, but he looked to Cador to continue the conversation. The smooth young lawyer stepped forward and said, ‘I’m sure you’re tired after your journey, and Conrad has a job to do later, so we’ll leave you alone until supper. Lena will show you to the King’s Watch suite.’ He grinned. ‘We’ve named it in your honour, as you’ll be the first to stay there. We only finished re-modelling it yesterday.’
‘This way, please,’ said Lena.
I’ll save my account of Pellacombe for later. Cador was right: we needed some down time. The King’s Watch suite was on the top floor at the north end of the house and had, a lounge with views over the river, three bedrooms and one big bathroom. The luggage was waiting for us, as was a selection of cakes and sandwiches. Behind the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the lingering scent of fresh paint haunted the air. All the windows were open.
‘This, I like,’ said Mina. She slipped off her sandals and curled up on the couch. ‘You can serve, Conrad.’
‘In a minute. I’ll get changed first.’
When I emerged, Saffron was standing by the picture window, admiring the view. When she turned round and saw me, her mouth opened in shock. ‘Do I have to wear combat uniform, too?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
She looked at the back of Mina’s head and wisely clamped her mouth shut. I hadn’t heard the last of this.
‘There’s something up with Lena and Eseld,’ said Mina from the couch.
Saffron and I joined her and Saff made an effort to get back to the present. ‘Not half.’
‘In what way?’ I asked, totally nonplussed.
‘You were too busy having a staring match with Ethan to notice,’ said Mina. ‘When Lena had introduced us, she was on your right, the same side as Eseld. The natural thing would have been to go and stand next to Eseld, but she didn’t. She went all round the back and stood next to Cador.’
‘And none too close to him,’ added Saffron.
‘Where’s Scout?’ said Mina. ‘I am about to open the sandwiches and he’s not here. That must be a first.’
‘He’s in our room,’ I said, ‘which is beautiful, by the way. Housekeeping have provided a dog basket and a bone for him. He’s getting acquainted with it.’
‘Ugh. Does he have to sleep with us?’
‘I’ll move it out here later. I think I’ll pass on the cakes, thanks. That tour of the grounds took longer than I thought, and I want to get the landing over with. I’ll see you at the Hubschrauberlandeplatz in about an hour, Saff.’
‘And me,’ said Mina simply. ‘I will be there also. And don’t ever call it by that word again. You’re just showing off.’
That put me in my place. I gave her a kiss and left them to their afternoon tea.
10 — By Air
We’d been shown to the King’s Watch suite via the main staircase. As Lena had taken us down the short landing, she’d pointed to a fire door and said, ‘This goes to the family wing and also to the place of staff.’ Guessing that this was the shortest route to the dock, I wound down two flights of stairs and bumped into Jane Kershaw (aka Leah’s mum).
She took one look at my uniform and said, ‘Looking for the short cut?’
‘Please. I know the dock’s that way, but…’
‘This place is pretty counter-intuitive, I’m afraid. Follow me.’
She led me in the opposite direction, to a windowless corridor dimly lit from above and sporting several ancient portraits. I stopped to look at both the light source and the unblinking eyes of the watchers. This was a seriously creepy place, a fact written all over Jane’s face when she asked, ‘If you want to know about them, I’m not an expert.’
She was already waiting at the first door, her hand on the knob.
‘Perhaps later.’
She pushed open the door and led me down below the level of the mansion’s basement.
‘Isn’t there a less … gloomy route?’ I asked.
She made a wry smile. ‘Was it that obvious? No one likes using this staircase except the Mowbrays, but it saves a ten minute walk. That top corridor leads to the Lab.’ She opened another door at the bottom of the stairwell. ‘Welcome to my domain.’
Jane’s domain was a busy, open-plan office with views down to the dock. I’d descended a long way from the King’s Watch suite and we were standing in the gutted shell of the original farmhouse. ‘Leah never said what you did here, Jane.’
‘I’m the Assistant Steward in charge of HR and recruitment. It’s all hands to the deck right now, so I’ve even been making beds.’
‘Thanks for the shortcut. I’ll no doubt see you around.’
She smiled and turned away. Two of her colleagues were already making a beeline to intercept her. I left through the open door and took the short path to the dock.
The tide was on the turn, slowly filling the river and floating the boats. The dock was deserted, except for the busy head of Michael bobbing around in a sharp looking sailboat. Not that I’m an expert, but this looked like something rigged for racing, not messing around on the water. I gave him a shout.
‘Just you to cross, sir?’ he said.
‘Just me, and I’ll be coming back in the chopper.’
He hopped on to the dock with ease and looked at me properly. ‘Are you really in the Army, sir?’
‘RAF, like Leah. That’s how I know her. I did nearly twenty years before I joined the King’s Watch.’
He jumped down some concrete steps to a rigid skiff and then watched me descend with a limp. At the last moment, he held out a hand to help me on to the boat. A wise head on young shoulders.
While he fiddled with the engine, he said, ‘I’d love to join the Navy.’
‘Why don’t you? Pellacombe will still be here if you want to come back to it.’
‘It’s Mum. She says she wants to retire at fifty. That’s only eight years away – and if I don’t take over from her, someone else gets the job. And the house.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Fourteen.’ He powered up the engine and we shot across the river. When he’d pulled in and fastened the boat, he said, ‘Shall I run you up in the buggy?’
‘Please.’ He helped me out and we wandered along to the waiting buggy. On the other side of the jetty, the big ferry rocked gently, probably sleeping for the night. ‘Has your mother been happy here?’ I asked.
Stupid question, really. Michael is a teenage boy: he had no idea of his mother’s happiness. To be fair, I’d have shrugged helplessly if someone had asked me the same question at his age. I know better now.
I rephrased myself. ‘You know what I’d do, Michael? I’d tell her you’re too young to make that decision at eighteen. Ask her to give you five years in the Navy. If that’s really what you want. If you approach her in the right way, you know, focus on your little sister’s welfare, and how much you’ll learn by going away, I reckon she’ll come round.’
He nodded thoughtfully and drove the buggy up the hill, dropping me right next to the helicopter. ‘I saw Dad out earlier, checking it over. Do you want me to call him?’