The Pyramids of London

by Andrea K Höst

  During the light debate that followed, ranging from whether Rome was deliberately creating a fulgite scarcity, to the vexed question of where the Republic was mining it in the first place, Rian could discover no glance or intonation or vampirically-sensed emotion that suggested that fulgite held particular significance to any of her guests. She tried a different tack, mentioning how Griff's disappointment at not seeing Sheerside had been suitably mitigated by Forest House, and then asking Lynsey if she'd been to Sheerside.

  "Oh yes. It's Evelyn's great joy to haul unsuspecting newcomers about the place, and point out where people were murdered or fought duels, move on to ghost stories, and then lose his victim in one of the oldest sections."

  "Only you, Lynsey," Evelyn said. "And it wasn't deliberate. Well, not completely."

  "We first visited when I was sixteen and Lynsey twelve," Lyle explained. "We took her into the Underhouse." He grimaced. "She found her way to Lord Msrah's private rooms, of course. Fortunately her blood is not right for him."

  "Lynsey is a great favourite of Lord Msrah," Evelyn said, ignoring the note of genuine relief in Lyle's voice. "He taught her to fence."

  "My first lessons, at any rate, and I continued learning back home. I still haven't defeated him, but he no longer holds back quite so much."

  "Fencing." Rian liked the idea on multiple levels. "Do you have a recommendation for a tutor, Lynsey? I've found myself thinking of self-defence lately."

  "I can introduce you to my London class," Lynsey said. "I've taken a position out of the city, but the new instructor is excellent."

  Rian asked where Lynsey would be working, only to have Evelyn interrupt.

  "You've never agreed to involve yourself in Folly's latest extravagance?" he asked. "I thought you were joking."

  "The principle of the idea seems sound to me. Besides, the pay will be very good."

  "Folly? Lord Fennington?" Rian suppressed any hint of heightened interest. Dyfed Fennington was perhaps the richest person in Prytennia, infamously eccentric, but with many connections to industry. Just the sort of person who might fund an investigation into haunted fulgite—or perhaps be behind the initial invention. "You're teaching him fencing?"

  "He's starting a school," Evelyn said, shaking his head in amused contempt. "Not content with his other toys, he wants some children to play with."

  "Lord Fennington is converting the Tangleways Estate," Lynsey explained. "He believes that Prytennia's current system of schooling is limited and arbitrary, and he wishes to chart a better path."

  "Fencing and horse riding as part of a national curriculum."

  "Physical education." Lynsey was unperturbed by Evelyn's mockery. "Sport, art, music, the sciences, literature, domestic and mechanical crafts. A framework of minimum standards and paths to excellence to be rolled out to all the village schools."

  The mention of village schools roused unhappy memories for Rian, but she simply asked: "Would you recommend it, this school-to-be? Or will it be all excess and a waste of time?"

  "You're thinking about it for your three? The teachers I've met so far are very good. The workload will be demanding, and I would expect some very annoyed parents when it becomes clear that mere attendance is not a guarantee of success. But if Lord Fennington manages to attract sufficient students for the first few years, they will gain a great deal."

  "Charged an exorbitant price to be test subjects in Folly's latest passion."

  "I thought you liked Lord Fennington," Lyle said.

  "I do," Evelyn replied. "Who doesn't? But he flits from interest to interest like a butterfly. What happens in a year or two when he discovers a new passion?"

  "He'll find a suitable Head to take over," Lynsey said. "And depending on that person, and the number of students remaining, the school will founder or prosper." She smiled at Rian. "There's an open day on the twenty-fifth. I'll send you the information and you can make up your mind away from Evelyn's naysaying."

  "The way you look now, you'll be mistaken for a student," Lyle added to Rian, with a mix of discomfort and fascination.

  "Going to school with them would be an excellent way to appal my nieces. I'll have to give it some thought."

  A crash followed by a solid thump brought all three of her visitors to their feet. Rian rose less hastily, focusing her senses to catch the departure of a half-dozen tiny rivers, and noticed Evelyn also looking toward the grove.

  "I'd better check what that was," she said. "Would you care for a tour?"

  As they climbed she explained folies and watching ravens, and was entirely unsurprised to find black feathers in the attic next to a fallen trunk. The Order of the Oak was certainly taking an interest.

  But no raven had opened the chests crowded into one half of the attic, or disturbed the piles of clothing she'd been sorting through that morning. Something had managed to creep in here and start searching, before the folies noticed. And there'd been no river.

  Twelve

  "We walk on the faces of the dead."

  The South London Orientation and Expeditionary Force blinked up at their navigator, Melly.

  "We're walking on grass," Griff corrected. "And there's only skeletons below. No faces."

  "Skulls have faces enough," Melly said. She raised her bag-laden arms, a stretching, expansive gesture. "I love this place, but no matter what anyone says, we're walking over people. Rooms of bone and teeth."

  Climbing the last few feet to the top of the rise, Eluned turned to gaze back at the city. London was such a flat place that this must be one of the best views of it, unless they could gain permission to scale one of the three major pyramids that rose higher than any other building. One of those was not too terribly far south, but most of the view was a grand sweep of tile and shingle, the spinning blades of roof-mounted dynamos, and the occasional tips of lesser pyramids.

  Turning inward, Eluned could remove the city completely from her view, replacing it with rounded green slopes marked by a tinge of brown thanks to the summer of windstorms. London's Great Barrows were shaped like three overlapping almonds—a perfect triquetra to symbolise the coming together of the Suleviae as Sulis. The south-west barrow was almost deserted, only a handful of kite flyers ahead.

  But Melly's words made it impossible to see simply a hilly park. Beneath them were halls and pits lined with stone and people: the bones of those who had died, separated by type and neatly stacked. Freed by Arawn's Tears of all the weight of flesh, bones could not anchor spirits in the living world, or hold them from the Grey Shores of Annwn.

  A tight bubble had expanded in Eluned's chest, and she gripped the handle of the carpet bag she carried. They had said their goodbyes at Caerlleon's Black Pool, and she no longer felt like she was suffocating every moment of the day, but there were times when the thought that her parents no longer had hands to touch made her want to scream.

  "Ar-rrooo!" Griff cried, pretending to be one of Arawn's hounds and chasing Dama Chelwith's two grandchildren, Redick and Falwen, toward the intersection of the three barrows.

  "How does he have so much energy after all today's walking?" Melly asked, then added in a lower voice. "Stupid thing for me to say. Sorry."

  "Doesn't matter," Eleri said, putting her bags down and wriggling her fingers. "Definitely will come back with kites," she added, critically surveying two girls as they launched a multi-jointed extravagance.

  "Not during one of the windstorms." Even in an ordinary breeze Nabah needed a firm grip on the trailing section of her sari as they followed the younger three toward the centre of the barrows. "Or you will be donating your kites to Danuin. Do they always offer to employ you, these workshops?"

  "Caerlleon ones never did," Eleri replied. "But they knew Mother and Father were teaching me."

  "You did not seem very much interested."

  "Neither of those are worth my time," Eleri said. "Maintenance shops. School first, university, then a workshop of my own."

  "Why not a workshop now? Or work to put t
ogether the money for one?"

  "Mother thought a wide view important. And I like lessons."

  Nabah gave Melly an oddly significant glance, but the taller girl simply looked over her head.

  "We've all of summer break now, before we have to think of school," Eluned put in, thoughts on a gate and a ruin and a forest. "Plus the last bit of term," she added, unrepentant about expulsion.

  "There are waiting lists for the better ones," Nabah warned. "Tollesey only has vacancies in the upper forms if someone leaves."

  "Is that nearby? Do you both go there?"

  "I've already finished," Melly said. "And Nabah—" She hesitated. "Nabah might be leaving a vacancy there soon."

  "You're finishing up? Have you decided not to be a doctor?" Eluned knew that children born in the families of the Daughters of Lakshmi didn't have to go into medicine, but she was willing to bet that it would feel like deciding not to belong.

  "A doctor, yes, of course." Nabah's voice held no shadow of doubt. "But the Raya…the Raya of Karnata has rescinded the ban on the Daughters."

  "I hadn't heard that," Eluned said, sharing a look of surprise with Eleri. When the Karnata Empire's Raya had forbidden women from practicing medicine and ordered arrests, the Daughters of Lakshmi had fled their homeland, eventually asking for asylum from the Queen of Prytennia. That had been nearly two hundred years ago, and the Daughters had become part of everyday life in Prytennia, particularly in surgical matters where Thoth-den vampires could not always help, or with those who objected to vampire 'taint'.

  "Are you—are all the Daughters going to leave, then?" Eluned asked.

  "It's an individual choice." Nabah shrugged, though there was a tiny crease between her brows. "I at least can speak the home tongue, although I am told my accent is terrible. This is no easy choice, but...Lakshmi is not here. Our practice might not depend on godly assistance, but Lakshmi is still more than a namesake for the Daughters. In Her name do we offer the riches of health, but our prayers have not brought Her here, so we cannot achieve individual allegiance, and our souls go to Arawn."

  Gods were very territorial. Most of them were not so completely bound by borders as Sulis—else Rome could not have conquered half the world with Jupiter's lightning—but often travel led to one-sided devotion. Cernunnos was one of the gods who transcended borders. He protected forests all across Europe, and had even been known to answer petitioners in far-flung points around the world.

  The two neat punctures by the base of Eluned's thumb itched, and she tried to think soberly of the consequences of allegiance, but images of Hurlstone took her instead. Yesterday, after sleeping most of the day, she'd had no chance before sunset to do more than check on the mannequin. And she'd looked in again this morning, but only a glance because Eleri was keen to start their tour of workshops, and collect what she needed to create a new arm. It fascinated her how inconsistent the time of day appeared to be in the Otherworld.

  Impatient to get back, Eluned stepped up her pace. They had nearly reached the central intersection of the three massive barrows. It made a fourth hill, higher and outlined by a narrow ditch that Griff, Redick and Falwen were currently jumping over in unison, chanting the titles of the Suleviae with every leap.

  "The Shadow!"

  "The Light!"

  "The Song!"

  Eluned herded everyone onward, helped along by the arrival of a girl walking a half-dozen dogs of all sizes, sending Griff zooming ahead once again.

  "You never stay and listen to the Solstice Singing from your home?" Eluned asked as they passed Melly's store. "You're even closer than we are—it must be so loud."

  "It is! But you have to go. There's nothing like it, and they're so happy when you sing back. I can't hardly believe you've never seen one of the triskelion."

  "We were too young the last time the Solstice Singing was in Caerlleon. And we never travelled to one." Always bad timing, too busy, or the crowds would be too big—but perhaps really because their father shared Griff's travel sickness. Eluned had never known that.

  "What if Aunt sends us away for school?" Griff said, dropping back to join the conversation.

  "Then we can come home for the Singing," Eluned said firmly, then paused as a quiver ran up through her feet. "Is the ground...?"

  "It's the tunnel digger," Nabah explained, clearly used to the odd vibration.

  "For the underground rail?" Griff asked, then shifted from eager interest to suspicion. "I thought they weren't scheduled to go south of the river until next year."

  "That's so," Melly said, with a wide grin. "The lines that they're admitting to. But they're digging south of the river all the same. Here, and in Skepsey, and in Twitting. People have felt it all over."

  "There are not yet the big cut and cover excavations, like at Paddington," Nabah added. "And if you go where they're using the digging automatons to tunnel under the Tamesas, the vibration is much stronger. These are smaller tunnels."

  "For the vampires to get about in the day," Melly added.

  "For the Parliament's private escape route," Nabah countered. "Or their secret postal engine. Routes to lay electricity lines. Or a tunnel to the centre of the Earth. Or it's mole people robbing banks, or even the Dragon of the East, restless in her bounds. Officially, there's no digging yet, south of the river."

  They enjoyed themselves making up more outlandish reasons, and Eluned could see that Griff thought he now knew how Dem Makepeace had reached their house before sunset, and was eager to confirm that theory. But it had been a long day of walking, and the bags full of parts and equipment felt three times as heavy during the final trudge past warehouse after concealing warehouse. And then there were all those stairs to Eleri's new workroom, though surely they could put that off in favour of a visit to the kitchen, and some quality sitting-about.

  Thinking only of putting her bag down, Eluned was not pleased to discover two people in Forest House's vestibule, one tugging the entry bell. The stranger turned as they crowded the outer door, and Eluned saw with faint dismay that it was a member of the Order of the Oak, her distinctive creamy brown surcoat featuring a triple row of dark brown oak leaves woven into the hem.

  The woman at least wasn't frowning, and the very large man with her didn't even seem to notice them, staring vaguely at an umbrella hanging from the coat hooks. He and the woman made something of a matched set in their Oak-mark garb, both with glossy brown curling hair and skin tanned almost dark enough to match. On the chest of the man's surcoat a single large oak leaf was woven, showing he was a Wise of the Order of the Oak—a dryw. He would have a grove of his own to look after, and people would come to him for foreseeing.

  "There seems naught home, children," the woman said, a border accent softening her words. "The price paid for rudely arriving without writing ahead."

  "Aunt's probably upstairs," Griff said, as Eluned put her bag on the nearest bench. "It takes an age to get down, unless you run."

  Before the woman could respond, the towering man made a pleased noise—the same sound Griff would make spotting a thick wedge of cake—and caught up Eluned's left hand in both of his.

  "What—?" Eluned started to flinch away, but the Wise's hold was careful and she realised that it was the bite mark that had caught his attention.

  "The Horned King's blessing," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "To see His mark fills the day with light."

  Eluned supposed it was new to have people stare at her left hand rather than her right, but the man, although a little strange, radiated such genuine delight that it was impossible not to smile back at him.

  "What does he mean?" Nabah asked, clearly fascinated.

  Difficult. They were not supposed to talk about their visit to the Great Forest. "There was a little amasen in the grove," Eluned began, and was saved from more when the main door of the house opened. Aunt Arianne looked out, along with the man from Sheerside, Dem Carstairs, and a blond man and woman behind them.

  "Lost the key?"


  The smile dropped from the Wise's face, and he let go of Eluned's hand, turning and straightening as he did so to a rigid uprightness that looked painful.

  "The unfinished ones," he said, breathless yet the words ringing out. "The near hounds. The knife of echoes. The path of cobweb. The shattered dragon. The trials of Albion are set." He was shaking, and made a horrid gulping sound, as if he had swallowed his tongue, and then one of his arms jerked upward to point at Aunt Arianne. "Land's throat. The quartered glance. Heart's blood falls."

  Then, like a lamp switched off, all the light went from his eyes and he slumped. The woman with him caught him adeptly by the arms, and despite his considerable size slowed his fall and eased him into a sitting position.

  Aunt Arianne's face had gone completely blank, and everyone was staring from the Wise to her, but then she gave a little shrug and produced the faintly amused smile that made it seem like nothing ever touched her.

  "Indeed the one thing the day lacked was a doom-laden prophecy. Perhaps you'd care to come in?"

  ooOoo

  Aunt Arianne sailed through drama as if it was a light headwind, asking Dem Carstairs and the tall blond woman to carry the barely-conscious Wise into the nearest sitting room, and sending the South London Orientation and Expeditionary Force to the kitchen to get themselves something to drink. Melly, perhaps catching signs of strain on Griff's face, helpfully brought the Expedition to an end, and tidied everyone off, leaving only the adult visitors to deal with.

  "Tea tray," Eleri said, and kept Griff occupied hunting down the teapot so a fresh brew could be made.

  Aunt Arianne must have tidied her own visitors away as well, since by the time Eluned led the way into the long, thin receiving room it held only their aunt, the Wise lying on one of the divans, and his companion sitting beside him, expression rueful.

  "...first time it's sent us will-ye nill-ye to London," she was saying. "But once he's taken the oakfire, there's no other path until he's spoken. And if it's a foreseeing for a particular person, he must seek them out."