Gwen nodded, sourly. “Why?” She asked. “Why would anyone do anything like this?”
“To humiliate us,” Master Thomas said. He looked stronger now, although he was still lying on the grass looking up into the dark sky. London’s ever-present clouds of smog were blocking out the night skies. “To show the great and the good that there is no defence against them. To terrorise them into surrendering and making concessions...”
He shook his head, firmly. “Not on my watch,” he added. “We’ll hunt them down tomorrow and exterminate them.”
“I’m coming with you,” Gwen said, firmly. She’d spoken before she’d quite realised what she was about to say. “If that...rogue Master shows up again, you’ll need help.”
“It’s no place for a young woman,” Master Thomas said, weakly. He didn’t seem to be able to sit upright without help, let alone start hunting down the rogue. “You have a great deal more to learn before...”
“You cannot go on your own,” Gwen said, feeling hot anger flaring through her. Once again, someone was treating her as a weak female who needed to be guided and guarded from the big bad world outside by a strong male. She was one of the most powerful magicians in the world – and she wasn’t entirely untrained. An emotional argument, however, wouldn’t impress Master Thomas. Only cold logic and reason would sway his mind. “You’re weak, sir; one brief battle drained you almost completely. What will happen when you find him on his own ground?”
Master Thomas smiled, thinly. “I won’t be alone, Lady Gwen,” he said. “I’ll have others with me; men from Scotland Yard and a handful of sorcerers to back me up...”
“But none of them will be Masters,” Gwen pointed out, resolutely. “You need another Master – and the only one you have is me.”
There was a long pause. “Very well,” Master Thomas said, as he pulled himself to his feet. “You can accompany me tomorrow morning.”
The police and fire brigade had arrived and were starting to clear the gardens and put out the fires. It would be months, perhaps years, before the mansion was fit for human occupancy. The great and the good of London had just had their noses rubbed in their own vulnerability. Gwen realised that the reaction was going to be profound, and unpleasant. The people who had been killed, or injured, or even risked in the fighting were actually important.
Master Thomas looked over at Lombardi, and then nodded to himself. “Take Lady Gwen back to Cavendish Hall and make sure that she goes to bed,” he said, firmly. Gwen opened her mouth to argue and then realised that it would be futile. Master Thomas had made up his mind. “Once you have done that, go to Doctor Norwell and inform him that Captain Swing has definitely returned to London.”
“Yes, sir,” Lombardi said. He looked as puzzled as Gwen felt, but neither of them dared ask Master Thomas who Captain Swing was – or who he had been. “Come on, Gwen. We have to get you home to bed.”
Gwen nodded, without speaking: one thing she had learned from her mother was that when one was arguing with a man – and when one had actually won the argument – it was a very good time to shut up. Patiently, she allowed him to escort her to the carriages that were lining up outside the gates and into the one that had brought them to the mansion. She caught sight of a line of injured guests being treated by doctors and shuddered. Doctors knew far less than they claimed to know; most people, quite reasonably, were morbidly afraid of medical treatment.
Master Thomas had been right, she realised. The aim had been to terrorise...
...And there was no doubt that it had worked perfectly.
Chapter Sixteen
I want you to take this,” Master Thomas said, the following morning. “If you feel that your life is in danger, use it without hesitation.”
He passed her a small pistol, perfectly designed to fit her hand. Gwen studied it with some surprise. She had taken part in shoots at her family’s country estates, but she’d never actually fired a pistol. Women weren’t actually expected to fire the guns. Besides, she had her magic. What did she need with a pistol?
“You may find yourself running low on magic,” Master Thomas explained. He looked down at her, sternly. “I’m taking you with me against my better judgement, so listen carefully. Do exactly as I tell you to do, without hesitation. If I tell you to head back to the Hall, do so at once, whatever the situation. Do you understand me?”
Gwen nodded, without speaking. She’d been woken early in the morning, allowing her to eat some bread and jam for breakfast before dressing in her new outfit. Master Thomas had had it made for her, clearly anticipating the moment when Gwen would start taking over his official duties. It was a pair of loose-fitting trousers and a shirt, both black as the night. Gwen’s mother would be horrified – respectable women didn’t wear trousers, it just wasn’t done – but Gwen found it hard to care. If she was going onto the streets to serve the Crown, she was going to look the part. And trousers meant that she didn’t have to worry about someone looking up her skirt while she was levitating through the air.
“Good,” Master Thomas said. “If you’ll follow me…?”
A gust of cold wind struck her in the face as they walked outside, carrying with it the scent of smoke and fire. In the distance, she could see smoke rising from the direction of last night’s fire. The fire brigade would have done their best, but the fire had been started by magic and would be fiendishly difficult to quench without draining half the Thames. Master Thomas would probably have detailed a handful of sorcerers to assist the fire brigade in putting out the blaze, or at least in confining it to the mansion. All of London would know what had happened by now. The rogue magician had humiliated them and the great and the good intended to make him pay for his crimes.
Outside, she saw three carriages, drawn up in front of the gates. The first one carried five men wearing sorcerer’s black, looking grim as they checked the weapons they carried on their belts. Their badges proclaimed them to be a mixture of Blazers and Movers. A man standing beside their carriage was clearly a Charmer. Behind them, the other two carriages carried men wearing dark blue coats and grim expressions. They carried firearms and truncheons. She was startled to realise that she recognised one of the shorter men – and he recognised her. Inspector Lestrade tipped his hat to Master Thomas as they came up to greet him. Gwen felt a flicker of tension as Master Thomas exchanged a few brief words with the policeman. This was serious. They were going out to wage war on a rogue sorcerer.
“Into the carriage,” Master Thomas ordered, shortly. Gwen obeyed, climbing up without assistance from any of the sorcerers who were already in the carriage. It was important not to pose as a helpless female, not in front of men she might find herself commanding one day. Their expressionless faces betrayed no surprise at seeing her, although tension hung thickly in the air. Gwen realised that they were nervous and trying not to show it. A Master Magician was a formidable opponent – and one who was clearly half-insane would be even worse. They might be going to their deaths.
Her stomach churned as Master Thomas climbed into the carriage behind her, nodding briefly to his subordinates. He was holding his cane in one hand, as if it were a sword, as he leaned forward to shout to the driver. The horseman cracked his whip and the horses snorted as they started forward, heading away from the hall. There was already plenty of traffic on London’s streets, even though it was alarmingly early in the morning, but they cleared a path for the carriages. It took Gwen several moments to realise that the onlookers were scared, unwilling to be noticed by Scotland Yard – or the formidable men in black. The common folk, Doctor Norwell had told her time and time again, believed all kinds of nonsense about magic. They believed that magicians could turn a person into a frog with a snap of their fingers. A Changer could turn a person into a frog, or so Gwen had been told, but it would be incredibly difficult and a waste of magic. It would be far easier to kill the victim outright.
The carriage picked up speed as it headed into the poorer areas of town. Gwen was struck by the sudden change in the
citizens of London. They moved from wearing rich clothing to clothes that looked as if they had been repaired, several times, or passed down from elder siblings to younger siblings. She caught sight of a girl so thin that Gwen could see her bones through her clothing and shivered. There, but for the grace of God, went Gwen. The dirty and smelly inhabitants of the poorer parts of the city were fundamentally little different from herself. Lord Blackburn, she knew, wouldn’t agree with her. He believed that magicians were inherently superior to everyone else.
She wrinkled her nostrils as the wind changed, blowing the stench into the carriage. It smelt of horses and unwashed human bodies and something she preferred not to speculate about, at least not in front of anyone else. How could humans live in such filth? She saw a group of elderly women following a small pack of dogs through the street, scooping up their wastes into bags they carried over their shoulders. The dogs themselves looked thin and mangy, very unlike the dogs her father owned and kept at his country estate. They’d been well fed and trained to assist the fox-hunting local squires. Gwen felt pity, even as she looked away from the elderly women. It struck her suddenly that the women weren’t that old. They’d merely lived in conditions that aged them quickly.
The carriage turned the corner, passing a group of street children who made rude signs at the rear of the vehicle. Gwen sensed anger among her fellow magicians, even though none of the rude signs were dangerous. The carriage drew to a stop outside a surprisingly clean building; Master Thomas led the magicians out onto the streets, cane raised as if he expected to be greeted by a blast of magic at any moment. Gwen followed them, bringing up the rear, just before there was a set of growls from the direction of the police carriages. A trio of oversized wolves were jumping out of the carriages and landing neatly on the pavement. Gwen shrank back, despite herself. The wolves were the size of lions, far larger than any dog she’d ever seen. Their handlers didn’t seem to have them under very good control. One of the wolves eyed her with disturbingly human eyes and licked its teeth. Gwen gathered her magic, only to dispel it a moment later. There was no real threat.
She turned and looked up at the building as Master Thomas issued orders to his men. It was a small business, she decided finally, a small business right on the edge of the poorer part of town. Her brother had often bored her into a mindless stupor by talking about how location was important for businesses; the owners of this business would be able to combine lower rents with an address that wasn’t too downmarket for the customers. Or so she thought. The smell hadn’t gone away, not really; she’d just grown used to its presence. She made a mental note to have more outfits made up by the seamstresses; the one she was wearing would probably have to be washed several times before the stench was finally removed for good.
“Follow me,” Master Thomas said. He lifted his hand and fired a bolt of magic at the door. “Stay behind me.”
The door smashed open, allowing the lead policemen to charge into the building, followed by two of the wolves. “Police,” the leader shouted. “Put your hands in the air, now!”
Gwen followed Master Thomas into the building. The door opened right into a warehouse, with piles of newspapers stacked up against the wall. A handful of shocked-looking men were ruthlessly grabbed by the policemen before they could react. They were pushed to the floor, their hands firmly cuffed behind their backs, and then left there to wait for the policemen to return. Gwen followed the policemen through the second door and saw a large printing press, one of the machines that had revolutionised the world. In the past, producing manuscripts had been the work of years, but now anyone could produce a book. Gwen, like so many others, had learned to read using books that had been mass-produced for young children. The policemen didn’t show any signs of caring about the machine as they stormed forwards, using their clubs to knock down any sign of resistance. Once they’d rounded up the staff, they marched them back out to the first room.
A door slammed open and a red-cheeked man looked out. “This is an outrage,” he thundered, his voice loud enough to be heard over the crashing as the policemen searched the building for more staff or visitors. “Do you have a warrant for this raid?”
“I have my warrant,” Master Thomas informed him, grimly. “You have been printing seditious materials, in defiance of the Dangerous Publications Act, and advocating armed rebellion, in defiance of the…”
“And what do you call your act here, today?” The man – Gwen guessed he was the editor and perhaps the owner – showed no sign of fear. She was impressed. “Why, one might as well be in Russia, facing the might of the Tsar’s secret police…”
Master Thomas did not look impressed. “We are taking you and your staff into custody,” he informed him. “I have only one question. Where is Captain Swing?”
Gwen looked up, sharply. The editor’s eyes rested on her for a long moment and then turned back to Master Thomas. “I have no idea where he has chosen to make his habitations,” he said, in a mocking upper-class voice. “But he sure embarrassed you yesterday, didn’t he?”
Master Thomas motioned to two of the policemen. They took the editor by the arms and dragged him out. The editor didn’t struggle, but as he passed Gwen he hissed, loudly enough for the entire room to hear, three simple words. “Wilkes and Liberty!”
Gwen looked over at Master Thomas, who was contemplating the printing press. There was a sudden sense of magic and then the entire press seemed to come apart. Gwen barely saw what had happened before it collapsed into a pile of junk. Master Thomas had far better control over his powers than she had of hers, even though he’d forced her to practice every day. It made her determined that she would always continue to practice. One day, she would have to take his place.
The sound of growling from outside convinced Master Thomas to head back out of the building, with Gwen following in his path. Outside, the wolves were growling at the prisoners, who were sitting on the pavement watching helplessly as a small army of policemen swarmed into the building. Beyond them, a crowd was starting to gather, watching silently as the Master Thomas moved from prisoner to prisoner, checking their faces against his memory. Gwen doubted that the rogue Master would be caught so easily, but perhaps he felt differently. Or maybe he was just trying to intimidate them. Perhaps they believed that Master Thomas could read their minds.
Gwen looked up sharply as she heard a feminine scream. A moment later, two of the policemen dragged out a young woman, wearing nothing more than a tattered dressing gown. Behind her, two young children – a boy and a girl – followed, held firmly by two additional policemen. The editor started to call out to the woman, only to be silenced by a blow from one of the police officers. He flinched back as one of the wolves advanced, growling nastily.
The woman hit the ground, hard, as one of the policemen shoved her to her knees. Gwen was moving forward before she’d even realised what she was about to do. It only took a little magic to hurl both of the policemen away from their victim, sending them crashing back into the brick wall. Master Thomas said nothing as Gwen checked the helpless woman. Blood was streaming down her cheek from a cut where she’d been backhanded by one of the policemen.
“That is enough,” Gwen said. A little Charm slid into her voice, even though she knew it would be useless. Policemen were trained to resist Charm – and Master Thomas’s men would be immune to it, unless it was far subtler than Gwen could manage. “Let the children go.”
The policemen looked up at Master Thomas, who shrugged and nodded. As soon as they were released, the children ran to the editor – their father. Gwen helped their mother to her feet and escorted her over to her husband, looking around for something to shield her from the crowd’s stares. Eventually, she pulled her cape off her back and passed it to the young woman. She was ready to lash out at anyone who dared comment, but no one said anything.
“Search the building and remove all of the paperwork,” Master Thomas said. Gwen had expected an angry lecture on how to behave in front of the poli
ce, or the public, but he hadn’t even scowled at her. She couldn’t decide if he approved of what she’d done or planned to yell at her later, once they were back at Cavendish Hall. “I want it all presented in front of the judges this afternoon.”
“You’ll see what the judges say,” the editor said. With his wife and children clinging onto him, he seemed more confident in himself. “You’re trampling on the rights of Englishmen…”
“Your rights came to an end when you printed your seditious drivel,” Master Thomas informed him, flatly. The wolves came closer, their sharp teeth glinting nastily in their dark mouths. Gwen had to force herself not to shudder. They really did have disturbingly human eyes, eyes that eyed her knowingly. “The judges will take a full account of your printing when they decide your case. I have no doubt that you will find yourself heading to a far less hospitable country. You may not even be able to take your wife and children with you.”
Gwen winced inwardly, feeling an odd spark of sympathy, as the editor crumbled. What would happen to his family if he were transported to Australia or South Africa? They’d become nothing better than beggars, particularly if the editor’s funds were confiscated by the state. What would happen to them? She looked down at the woman’s pleading eyes and shivered. There were many things that could happen to poor people in London, few of them good. But her husband had encouraged plots against the peace of England. He’d printed broadsheets that had attacked the King and his Government.
A fourth carriage arrived and the policemen herded the prisoners up into its confining bars. It was a mobile jail, Gwen realised, one capable of holding all of the prisoners in some discomfort. The woman and her children were pushed in at the end, sharing what little time they had left with their husband and father. Gwen wondered what would happen to them, again. Perhaps Master Thomas would know…but his forbidding look forced her to hold her tongue. She didn’t want to be sent back to Cavendish Hall.
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