Engine of Lies ebook

by Barbara Howe

  “You go on,” René said. “I’m going to watch, too.”

  I stopped with my hand on the latch. “You said you believed me.”

  “I do, mostly, but it’s like learning theory without doing any actual magic. It’s not quite real until you see it in practice, or do it yourself.”

  “You’re too young for this filth. You won’t like it.”

  “You can’t stop me, now that I’ve read your list.”

  “Lucinda,” Sven said, “Go away. I’ll deal with them—the list, and René.”

  “I’d wish you a good day,” I said, before I stomped out, “but you won’t have one.”

  The Lady of the Manor

  Claire’s house was in an uproar, with servants running hither and yon, packing crates and trunks. Two servants collided in the kitchen, smashing china. Their mistress dithered about, fussing over boxes, issuing contradictory orders, and getting in the servants’ way. I watched from a distance, waiting for an opportunity to step into an empty room. Sorceress Lorraine’s magic must have had an effect, as I rivalled Hazel in outward serenity. Tapping my foot on the hearthstone seemed so gauche.

  The nursemaid put Lawrence down for a nap, and left the nursery. I walked through the fire and bent to kiss his cute head. The nursemaid stepped back in, and screamed. My nephew cried. I picked him up and attempted to soothe him. The nursemaid retreated to a corner and watched with her hands over her mouth.

  Claire came running. Her eyes grew enormous when she saw me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle anyone. I waited until the nursemaid left before I walked through the fire—”

  “You can walk through the fire?” Claire breathed.

  The nursemaid gave another little shriek and blanched. With the air of one bearding a lion in his den, she crept closer, snatched the crying baby from me, and fled.

  Claire would never do anything as unbecoming as the open-mouthed laugh I indulged in. She bent over with a hand on her mouth, wheezing and chortling. When I regained my composure I said, “You should commend her for having enough gumption to put Lawrence first even though she was frightened.”

  Claire wiped streaming eyes. “Yes, I’ll do that. Oh, dear, it’s such a shock. But of course, you can walk through the fire. I should have realised. You can do anything.”

  “That’s not so. There’s plenty I can’t do.”

  She waved a hand. “Unimportant stuff. You’ve always done anything you really wanted. Lucinda, I am so glad you’re here. We’re moving to the earl’s mansion.”

  “I thought you must be. Lord Richard told his father about you?”

  She shook her head. “You wouldn’t know. You were right about Richard’s brother being in danger. Before you sent your message, he had gotten into a fight up north, and the other man killed him. When the earl heard the news, he had a fit, and died a day later. Richard’s the earl now.”

  “Oh,” I breathed, and dropped into a chair. “Thank God,” I added under my breath.

  Claire stared down at her hands, her cheeks flushed. All traces of gaiety had disappeared. “Richard’s upset, and from more than just his father dying, which he expected soon anyway. I think he believes it’s his fault, and it probably is, that both his brother and father are dead, since he didn’t tell Lord Edmund about Lawrence. Oh, Lucinda, I’m trying to be a supportive wife, but it’s hard. I’m so ashamed of him. I’m dying to move out of this house, but I’m not sure moving into the mansion with him will be better. Maybe I would have made a better choice marrying the silversmith, or the silk merchant.”

  Earlier, when we had realised Lord Edmund was unaware his nephew had supplanted him, I had assumed his brother’s lapse to be an egregious example of the self-absorption afflicting our ruling class. Now, I could not believe Lord Richard was oblivious. Had the absence of a warning been a ploy, a desperate gamble that someone, somewhere, would be angry enough with Lord Edmund to take a swing at him, and put a permanent end to his villainy?

  An icy finger traced a line down my spine. I would not, could not, ever voice that question. I was not powerful enough to hide Lord Richard’s answer from the Water Office. And damned if I wanted Claire’s husband to suffer any more for his brother’s wickedness, depravity the Water Office should have stopped years ago.

  “Lucinda, are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, I heard you.” I took her hands in mine. “Claire, listen. I used magic to follow Edmund’s life, and he was every bit as bad as Richard thinks. Don’t agonise over his death; Frankland is better off without him. And your husband is a better man than you give him credit for.”

  She gave me a polite, superficial smile. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up, but I know what you think of the nobles. Never mind. I’m glad you’re here. Richard’s coming soon to take Lawrence and me to the palace. I’m nervous. Would you come with us? I want the servants to know I’m related to a fire witch.”

  “Sure, but I should look the part. I’d better go home and fetch my hat. Back in a few.”

  I called a fire to life in the fireplace and walked through. In my last glimpse of Claire, her eyes were as big as saucers.

  The dark red silk gown with gold stitching was one of the first I’d had made to order, when the Fire Guild gave me money to dress befitting my new station. I’d had some difficulty getting what I wanted, until Mrs Cole tracked down a costumer for a troupe of actors. The dress was not fashionable in the slightest. It was, in fact, a conservative cut in a style fashionable more than a century ago, when Jean was in his twenties. I indulged myself for a few minutes, remembering the gleam in his eyes when he first saw me wear it.

  Ah, well, daydreaming wasn’t doing either of us any good. I pulled off my linen frock and donned the red silk, then grabbed the hat with the flickering flames and returned to Claire’s. She was in her bedroom with two maids helping her dress, all three chattering away. I walked in, and was met with dead silence.

  I asked, “Will this do?”

  Claire closed her hanging jaw. “Merciful heavens, no. This will be my grand entrance to my new home. I can’t have you showing me up.”

  I snorted. “As if you’re worried.”

  She dimpled. “Well, no, but I’d never thought that before. I beg your pardon for each and every mean thing I ever said about you not caring about clothes.”

  “They were mostly true.” I eyed the impractical blue silk and white lace confection she wore. “I can’t imagine wanting to wear that. You look like a doll.”

  “It’s the current fashion.”

  “So?”

  The arrival of Lord Richard’s coach saved us from repeating that well-worn argument. We met him in the entry hall; he blanched and backed into the door. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as Claire introduced me.

  I held out my hand. “I’m glad to finally meet you, and I apologise for the letter I sent last week. After thinking about it further, it’s just as well you didn’t take Claire to live in the earl’s mansion while your father was alive. It wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience, living with someone who despised her.”

  The filaments of the conspiracy hanging from Lord Richard didn’t stir. Claire gave me a reproachful stare, but he looked like a man given a reprieve from a prison sentence. The scenes in the fire had given the impression of a man suffering chronic melancholy, but within a few minutes he was as cheery as a man with a beautiful wife and a healthy income should be. His manners were faultless, and I warmed to him without reserve.

  He inquired about our travels, and we carried on a pleasant conversation in the coach. Claire was pleased, but bemused. She watched me from the corner of her eye.

  The earl’s servants waited in neat rows at the mansion’s front door. Eyes swivelled from Claire to me and back again as we alit from the coach. Claire gave me the faintest glimmer of a wink. If I had outshon
e her, we both would have been shocked.

  The earl addressed his staff with, “It is my pleasure to present your new mistress, my wife of two years, Lady Eddensford.”

  I winced. Thank heaven it was a courtesy title.

  “I also present her stepsister, the Greater Warlock Locksmith, wife of the Fire Warlock Emeritus.”

  Enormous eyes swivelled back to me. I pulled my hat brim a fraction of an inch lower, and they cringed in unison.

  Lord Richard motioned towards the nursemaid and baby. “And finally, Lawrence, my son and heir.” While we climbed the stairs, he directed the butler and housekeeper to give Claire a tour, but at the top she stopped him and turned back to the ranks of staring servants.

  “Please, I want to say something first.” Her only sign of nerves was fingering her gold and lapis lazuli bracelet. “The earl called me Lady Eddensford, but I’m a commoner, like you. You must know, or could guess, that’s why he hid our marriage from his father, so there’s no point in pretending otherwise. I want to be a good wife and a good hostess, but I won’t learn my way around overnight, and I will make mistakes. You know how to do your jobs—please help me learn to do mine. In return I promise to treat you as well as I know how. That’s all. Thank you.”

  She smiled her most conspiratorial smile, the one that makes everyone believe she is speaking directly to them. Heads nodded, and a chorus of “Yes, ma’am’s” answered.

  The butler and housekeeper were eating out of her hand before we’d covered one floor. She responded to every story, and took the time to examine everything they saw fit to point out. She was acting, but no one short of a level five talent would have known. Lord Richard didn’t know—he looked about to burst with pride at her delight in his home.

  The house was lovely, more old-fashioned and comfortable than I had expected, less ostentatious than I had feared. Watching and listening with half a mind, I followed along behind. Did I dare tell Claire what her husband had done for her? At length, I decided against it, and turned my attention to Claire’s bracelet. A probe confirmed Granny Helene had lifted the glamour spell. The earth witch had been right about Claire; she would be fine. She didn’t need a spell to charm, or my help in handling her new household.

  The butler would have ended the tour after the state rooms, family quarters, and guest rooms, but Claire insisted on seeing everything. I added my voice to hers—no house tour is complete without a glimpse of the kitchen. Besides, it was time I established my credentials.

  Dinner preparations ground to a halt as the kitchen staff bobbed and curtsied and dusted themselves off. Had the lord and his lady never been there before? Mrs Cole would have taken it in stride and worked while talking. Claire and I exchanged looks, and after a cursory glance around, I expressed my thanks for the tour and announced I must be going. I walked into the fireplace and turned back, one foot in the flames.

  “I’ll come back after you’ve had a chance to settle in. When would be good? A week? A fortnight, or…?”

  A dozen people stood frozen like statues. The fright on the earl’s face mirrored the scullery maid’s. Claire, bless her, looked as if she’d watched me step into the fire for years.

  “A fortnight,” she said. “Perfect. Come for tea.”

  “Lovely. See you then,” I said, and walked through the fire.

  Wishful Thinking

  I arrived at Sven’s study the next morning before René. Sven acknowledged my presence, then returned to staring grimly out the window. I checked that the spells I had cast the day before were still intact while we waited in silence for René.

  When he arrived, he greeted me with, “You were right.” He scrambled into the window embrasure, without the previous day’s grin. “Is there any magic to unsee something you’re sorry you saw?”

  Sven shook his head. “If I knew of any I’d use it myself.”

  I said, “Forget that. The important question is, how do we expose this filthy conspiracy?”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Are you—”

  “I know,” I interrupted, “you haven’t agreed yet to help, but you will. You’re a righteous man, and now that you know about it, you can’t let it go on, either. You’d agree to help even if René hadn’t already persuaded you.”

  Sven closed his eyes and looked pained. “Thank you for that ringing endorsement of my character, but that wasn’t what I meant. Do you understand how it works? Are you sure this problem won’t disappear when the Water Office is rebuilt?”

  “Er, no. I hadn’t considered… If it will, then why did Sorceress Lorraine get so excited over my learning about it?”

  “I don’t know. You may be right, but the point is, we don’t know enough. We need to understand the conspiracy’s limits and vulnerabilities. If we attack it now we might get lucky but more likely it will swallow us.”

  “We,” René said. “You are going to help, then?”

  “Of course I am,” Sven snapped. “But don’t tell the other mages I’ve lost an argument to two neophytes who’ve never even been to university.”

  René’s grin reappeared. “We won’t tell. Besides, if you bring this secret out into the open, won’t it seal your reputation as a mage?”

  “It will. I’ll be the go-to man for conspiracies, secrets, and anything of that ilk. Don’t think I’m not aware of that.”

  I said, “Thanks, Sven. Let’s stay on track, please. How do we find out more about it?”

  “We can probe a bit from the outside, but we’ll make progress faster if we probe from the inside. Talk, that is, to someone who knows something about it.”

  I glanced at René. He looked baffled, too.

  “How do we do that without giving away that we’re not part of it?”

  Sven’s grim expression relaxed into an echo of René’s grin. “Simple, and maybe even fun. We start a counter-conspiracy.”

  The Earth Mother’s amber chamber was stifling. I’d arrived minutes before, and already wanted out. I leaned my head against the chair back and closed my eyes, too enervated to glare at Beorn for calling this meeting on the hottest day in July. If I had known how many more meetings I’d have to go to as the Fire Warlock’s apprentice, I’d have told him to go jump in a lake.

  “Believe it or not, and I’m not sure I believe it,” Beorn said, “the king and I agreed on something.”

  I pried an eye open. He had warned me to keep an eye on his dealings with the king, and I’d missed the first one. Must have been while I was with Sven and René. If he asked where I’d been, we were in trouble.

  “It is what one would expect,” Sorceress Lorraine said, “given your close friendship.”

  Mother Celeste snorted. “I don’t believe. Tell us.”

  Beorn said, “That jackass Lord Edmund is causing trouble just by getting himself killed. Every aristocrat who hears about him panics, and somebody has to go calm him down and explain what happened. Paul’s been getting the worst of it.”

  “They have been trying my patience sorely,” Enchanter Paul said. “None of the guilds has spare staff to spend handholding these nervous ninnies.”

  Beorn said, “The king already sent out the summons calling the nobles to Paris in September for the demonstration of the rebuilt Water Office. I said make it more urgent, and tell them to get there like I was prodding their fat little butts with a fiery wand. When they’re all there, which can’t be until the end of August anyway, we gather them together and show them what happened to Lord Edmund. Stephen agreed it was a good idea.”

  A good idea? Making the new Earl of Eddensford look like a first-class self-centred ass in front of the whole country? Claire would be devastated. I straightened up, but strangled a protest. The four Officeholders weren’t concerned about my discomfort, why would they care about hers?

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Paul said, “but rumours will continue to
spread, and we’ll still have to deal with panicked nobles until then. Perhaps we should use conspiracy magic to curtail the rumours?”

  Beorn bristled. “Hell, no. We’ve got too many of them now, and we shouldn’t encourage people to keep secrets.”

  “Peace, friends,” Jean said, “The news is already too widespread to easily contain, even with magical backing. Dealing with upset nobles is, I agree, frustrating and time-consuming, but letting the news spread may have benefits that outweigh the costs.”

  “Benefits?” Enchanter Paul’s voice rose. “What benefits?”

  “The nobility is too complacent, believing nothing will ever change in Frankland. Fear may spur them to come to terms with the changes forced on them. If they go to Paris expecting Frankland to fall apart, and there find how little has changed, they will be relieved and more willing to accept it.”

  Beorn pulled at his moustache. “Soften them up, eh? You’ve got a point.”

  Mother Celeste said, “Every one we can persuade to go along with the reforging is one we won’t have to strong-arm, but unless we can convince the king, do we have any chance of that?”

  “Queen Marguerite,” Sorceress Lorraine said, “is the key. She is the one we must convince, because she accepts the myths that the administration of justice is even-handed, and the nobility are privileged because they are more virtuous than the commoners. King Stephen knows how human his kinsmen are, and privilege matters more to him than justice, but he values her good opinion. If we demonstrate to her virtuous commoners being wronged by the courts, and reprehensible nobles going unpunished, she will give Stephen no peace until he accepts our reforms.”

  Beorn and Paul eyed each other. “Sounds like wishful thinking to me,” Beorn said. “She’s never stood up to him before, why would she start now?”

  “She has never disagreed with him before on anything that mattered so much to her own psyche,” Jean said. “If we convince her of the need for reform, and she fails to act on it, she will have no peace, as in her own mind she will be no better than a commoner. I, too, may be guilty of wishful thinking, but I agree with Her Wisdom. There is more steel in Queen Marguerite than is apparent on first glance.”