by Shamus Young
“It’s not unnatural. Father was tall as well.”
“Your father was tall, but you are a titan. Look at your shoulders. What a shame. Such a fine suit.” She dropped the suit into the pile of unwanted items.
“You’re getting rid of father’s suit?” This was absurd. Did Mother really want some stranger parading around in Father’s favorite suit? This almost felt like grave-robbing.
“I doubt very much he should need it again. The one we buried him in was quite lovely and he won't need another.”
Gilbert frowned. “This whole business is very sudden.”
“Not as sudden as it seems,” she said. “I don’t plan on leaving until near the end of the year. I should like to spend Christmas with my new granddaughter. Or grandson, if it comes to that.”
“Then why are we packing now?”
“Because you’re leaving for your new job soon, and I want your help in moving heavy things about the house. You’re like a horse that can work indoors.” She smiled and patted him on the head like a beloved animal.
“Won’t you miss it here?” Gilbert asked, not rising to the bait.
“Miss? Well, I’ll miss you of course, but if you’re set on breaking my heart then there’s little I can do to stop you. But if you must know the only thing I’ll miss is Victoria herself.”
Gilbert sighed. “You know, you might have an easier time making friends here if you didn’t insist on referring to Her Majesty the Queen by her first name as if she came over for tea. It really does offend people.”
“Well, I see it as a sign of affection. It’s their business if other people want to keep her at such arm’s length. I must admit I feel a certain sisterhood with her.”
“Is that because you share the same first name?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s because she’s the finest monarch in a thousand years, and has been good for the national character. Maybe people will get it into their heads that more women should be in places of importance. We certainly couldn’t do far worse than the men, no matter how hard we tried.” Mother held up another of his father’s suits, then disassembled it and held each piece up in turn. She dropped it all onto the unwanted pile with a sigh.
“I can see you’re trying to scandalize me for your own amusement,” Gilbert grumbled, “but I’m just not interested. Politics bore me.” He’d heard this sermon from her before, and he wanted to avoid the long version.
“For example, that fool husband of hers,” Mother continued, ignoring Gilbert. “He’s a lovely man, but is impoverished of common sense.”
“What’s wrong with Prince Albert?” He regretted asking the question before she answered it. Gilbert realized too late that he was bringing this on himself.
“This idea of his that we should have leniency towards ‘benign sorcery’. It’s quite dangerous and barbaric, and I wish Victoria would set him right.”
“He’s only suggesting that we shouldn’t go around killing people who use magic for medicinal purposes. I hardly see that as a call to barbarism.”
“Oh? Did you hear what happened last month? The assassination attempt?”
“No?”
“You really should pay more attention. Some fool hedge wizard tried to kill Victoria and Prince Albert. Some mad Irishman named McLean. He tried to roast them alive. Ended up setting their coach on fire.”
“If he was named McLean, wouldn’t that make him a Scotsman?”
“Oh, whichever,” she said impatiently. “The point is that lenience only encourages more people to dabble in it.”
“I don’t see the harm in healing people,” Gilbert said.
She gathered up the unwanted clothes and put them back in his arms, then gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the stairs. Gilbert obediently took his burden up while she followed after him with a few of the nicer items that she probably didn’t trust to his brutish embrace. “You’re too young to remember the forties,” she said as she followed him up the steps. “The Potato Famine brought in waves of tricksters and magicians of all kinds. Men that commanded animals. Women that could move unseen. It was chaos and crime for years after.”
Gilbert allowed himself an eye-roll while she was behind him. “You were still a young girl and living in America when that happened. So you don’t remember it any better than I do.”
“But I’m old enough to remember the gossip about it. And I remember well enough the trouble that comes from those who dabble in magic.”
“Are you sure the cause wasn’t poverty, homelessness, and starvation that came from hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the famine?”
“Which itself was the work of witchcraft!”
Gilbert sighed. “You don’t know that. Nobody knows that.”
“I can’t imagine any natural blight that could cause destruction on such a terrible scale. Use your head, Gilbert. The potato blight had to be the work of magic.”
“Perhaps. But if I was sick and a wizard offered me a cure, I might take it.”
“That would be most unwise. You could end up ejected from the church.”
“We’ve got to get out of this church,” Gilbert said as he paced in the aisle.
“I wonder why they haven’t attacked us,” Simon said. He was looking out through the stained glass windows, trying to catch some glimpse of their adversaries despite the distortion and pervasive darkness.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. They know we’re in here and they know where the exits are. They have us cornered. Perhaps they’re waiting for reinforcements. Perhaps they’re reluctant to engage in violence in a holy place. If it’s the latter, we might be able to use it to our advantage.”
The sun had faded, and their only light came from the torches and lanterns gathered outside of the church. There was just enough light that they could move about without crashing into things. This was not a large church. It would take less than fifty people to fill it to capacity.
Simon threw himself down in one of the pews. The impact was very loud in the empty space. “This is terrible. We can’t stay in here forever. I’m already so hungry. I was given a meal before I entered the tomb last night, but I haven’t had a bite since then.”
“I don’t suppose you know any spells that might aid us?”
“You’re suggesting we use magic in here?” Simon gestured at the holy symbols at the front of the room. “I’m not even sure His Lordship would have done such a thing. At any rate, no. I don’t know any spells that would be of use to us.”
“We don’t need much. A cloud of smoke, bright lights, some noise in the distance? Something along those lines?”
Simon drew in a deep breath and began ticking off possibilities on his fingers. “If we had a dead dog, I could bring it back to life mindless and feral.”
“I suppose that’s not terribly useful,” Gilbert admitted.
“I could make a goblet of blood boil. I can ward off certain kinds of animated dead.”
“Forget the matter. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“And as I learned last night, I can raise a dead viscount if supplied with a princess first.”
“Please stop telling me these unwholesome things.” Gilbert waved his arms to signal his surrender.
Gilbert went to the window and did his best to count their foes. He found it likely they were facing the same six men as the previous night. He knew the number of their enemy, but not where they were positioned. They would need to cover all possible exits, of which there were two. The Witch Watch believed they were going to face a powerful wizard, so they were bracing themselves for an attack that could fall at any moment. This would fill them with nervous energy and make the men prone to fidgeting. Gilbert hoped this would make it possible to see them. After ten minutes of silent observation, he perceived a few points of subtle movement in the shadows outside.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” he told Simon. “This is bad. It looks like they have three men out front. I’m betting the other three will be g
uarding the side door, with the mystery woman. They have good rifles and they know we’re in here. We have no weapons, we’re outnumbered, and they know we’re coming.”
Simon nodded. He seemed to be choking back tears.
Gilbert regarded him and thought about the long years of torment the boy had suffered. Gilbert had faced the threat of death, and his nerves had been tempered by it. His fellow soldiers had been mocking towards civilians and their assumed cowardice, and had thought it odd that folks with so little honor would value their lives so highly. Gilbert had always thought this was a backward way of thinking. Their purpose was to safeguard the lives of the innocent. Soldiers faced the terrors of the world so that commoners didn’t have to, and if commoners lacked courage then it was a sign that the fighting men were doing their job.
Gilbert thought they could simply surrender, but he wasn’t sure what the Witch Watch would do. Certainly he and Simon would hang. Or burn. Or whatever was in fashion for condemned sorcerers these days. But even if they told all they knew before they died, he doubted the Witch Watch would act on it. If restoring the life of the princess required additional sorcery, then they might prefer to leave her dead.
All Gilbert wanted was a course of action that would allow him to save someone. If he couldn’t save the princess, then perhaps he could save the boy.
“Look Simon,” Gilbert said. “I would rather you escaped from this unharmed. They were mostly concerned with me last night. It’s even possible - though not likely - that they overlooked you altogether. If they kill me, I’ll be no worse off than I was this time yesterday. I propose that I make a commotion and attempt to lead these bloodhounds away. You’ll be free to escape.”
Simon opened his mouth and closed it again, apparently stunned by the offer. “But surely they’ll run you down?”
“Probably. But I don’t imagine you’ll be of much help to me if it comes to that. Better that one of us should escape, and you’re the one with the knowledge to help poor Sophie.”
Simon seemed encouraged by this line of thought. He straightened himself up. “I don’t see how you can hope to lead them away. Surely you’ll be cut down the moment you set foot outside the church.”
“Yes. I’ll need to find some other way of leaving this place.” Gilbert explored the building once again, hoping to find some detail he’d overlooked before. The windows were another possible exit, but then he considered the time it would take to smash one open. (Which was something he was reluctant to do; quite aside from the sacrilege, he adored stained glass windows.) By the time he broke it open and hoisted himself out, the enemy would be onto him. Likely as not he’d just end up shot while hanging halfway out of the window.
It was a very small church, and his search did not take long. It ended in the belfry, with him looking up at the pinch of starry sky that was visible at the top. “I’m going to leave this way,” he said to Simon. He began climbing.
The belfry was narrow, and he was able to climb it by bracing himself against opposing walls. He was careful to avoid getting caught on the rope, as he didn’t want to give away his plan by simply ringing the bell. The bell itself was quite small, perhaps only half again the size of a family cooking pot. Simon stood beneath him and watched his progress until the rain of dust and splinters drove him off.
Gilbert reached the top. Since he was looking down to watch his footing, he cracked his head against the bell. The note rang clearly in the night air, rolling out far beyond the borders of the town. He cursed loudly. Now that he was at the top, he could see that the openings were not as large as he had assumed. They were quite narrow, only just barely large enough to allow him passage.
He hoisted himself up and looked out through the bell windows. Directly below was the church roof. It was a short enough drop, although if he tumbled off he would fall into the street where he would then be smashed against the stony ground and (probably) shot. However, if he could keep his footing he could cross the roof and perhaps leap to the adjacent building, which looked like it might be stables. Although, it was difficult to be sure in the dark. From there he might gain a horse (assuming this was the stables and also assuming horses were kept there at the moment and that there would be a saddle handy) and ride out of town. The Witch Watch would ride after him. Perhaps he could abandon his horse after a mile or so and double back, leaving his pursuers in confusion.
It was a ridiculous plan, filled with holes, and most likely doomed to fail. The alternative was climbing back down and waiting for his foes to attack on their own terms.
He pulled himself up and out of the not-quite-Gilbert-sized opening, and became stuck. He flailed his feet, struck the bell again with his heel, and tumbled out headfirst. There was a great impact. He landed on his back, more or less. This was followed by a short drop and a rain of debris. Gilbert found himself suddenly back inside the church, looking up at the sky through a fresh hole in the roof.
“Are you all right, Gilbert?” Simon rushed to his side.
“At least I didn’t break any of the windows.”
Alice stood behind the church with Captain Turpin. She was looking up at the bell and trying to make sense of the events so far.
Last night they had tracked the abomination to this town. Her ethergram pointed unmistakably at the church, meaning it was hiding somewhere inside. When morning came the captain had advised the locals to stay away, and they were more than happy to hide indoors and leave the problem for the Witch Watch to handle.
The church had been silent until a quarter of an hour ago, when they heard some sort of scuffling inside. Then the bell was rung once, followed by profanity, a second ring, and a loud boom. They had hurried around the church, expecting some sort of ambush or wizardry, only to find it quiet again.
“If he’s trying to get away, he’s taking an odd way around,” Captain Turpin said.
Jack, the Captain’s second, joined them. He had been left to watch the side door but curiosity over the ringing bell had evidently drawn him here. “Is that something on the roof?” he asked, pointing to a spot beside the belfry.
Alice squinted, and made out a dark spot there. She drew close to the church and discovered a shingle. She held it up for the others to see in the lantern light. “It’s not something on the roof. It’s a hole.”
“What do you make of that?” asked Turpin. “Can’t fathom the use of blowing holes in the roof of the church. The walls, maybe. But not the roof.”
“We should go in,” Alice said firmly. “Unless we mean to stand out here while he tears the building down a beam at a time.”
“These folk are scared enough already,” said Turpin, meaning the townsfolk that were peering out the windows at them. “They don’t want any bloodshed in the church and I have to say I agree with them.”
“We’re destroying an abomination. There won’t be blood,” she said patiently.
The captain lowered his voice. “I know the men used to give you difficulty on account of you being a woman. But those days are long past. You’ve proven your worth and sundry, and nobody questions your dedication. You’re like a brother to them, if you take my meaning.”
“I don’t think I do,” she whispered back, slightly irritated.
Archer - the other member of their foursome - walked into view, leading their horses. He had been out front, where the captain had ordered him to stay with the horses. This was apparently his way of obediently abandoning his post so he could see what everyone else was doing.
The Captain gave a sidelong glance in Archer’s direction. “I’m saying you don’t need to demonstrate your courage by advising rashness. The men would lay down their lives for you, but there’s no reason to make them do so tonight. Mordaunt will come out sooner or later. Better we keep him bottled up and make him fight his way out than the other way around.”
“It’s not rashness,” she hissed back. “I just don’t see the sense in allowing him time to prepare some devilry for us.”
“Look!” Jack shoute
d.
Alice looked up and saw a black-cloaked figure fleeing from the church, where the side-door was left hanging open.
“Did nobody hold their post at the doors?” Turpin boomed. He shouted for everyone to rally, but there was little need. All of them were standing together, having come to see the business with the roof.
The abomination rushed through the pasture, heading for the trees on the far side. Archer took a shot - an act of absurd optimism given the distance and darkness. The captain and Jack mounted their horses, and the chase was on.
“That way,” Alice said to Archer. “The captain will try to drive him back here so we can close in around him. Let’s just hope we can fight him in the pasture and that he doesn’t make for the village.”
Even as she spoke, the abomination began doing exactly that. When it saw it was going to be overtaken, it turned sharply and made for the relative shelter of the nearby houses.
“Why doesn’t it use magic?” Alice wondered aloud as she ran.
“I think it is. Look at how fast it’s running!” answered Archer.
They were fortunate to have the moon on their side tonight. It shone on the fields and village with enough strength to cast shadows. The abomination could not hide easily, despite its dark cloak. It ran through an orchard, staying close to the trees to prevent the horses from drawing too near. Then it climbed over a fence that the captain did not dare on horseback, and so broke away just before they ran him down.
The Witch Watch scattered and combed through the town while the inhabitants cowered inside. Alice heard a woman scream. Thinking the abomination had been found, she hurried towards the sound only to discover that the woman had simply been startled by Archer moving past her window.
Alice consulted the ethergram. As before, the needle was still slightly inclined to point towards the abomination. It was not strong, and she had to hold very still to see the movement. This was difficult because she was winded. When the needle settled down, it seemed to be pointing away from the area where the men were hunting. Had the abomination doubled back? She turned and went around the nearby house. Now the needle was moving quickly. She thought this might be a malfunction, but this might also happen if it was extremely close.