The Odin Inheritance (The Pessarine Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria L. Scott

  Mother indicated the seat beside her when Lady Sato broke our embrace. “I’m so glad you could join us,” she said, smiling. She indicated me. “Perhaps your presence will help reassure Arianna that her studies will not go neglected on this trip?”

  Lady Sato beamed and took her place beside Mother. “The Tripos exam is very important, Elaine,” she said, her voice melodious and devoid of any recognizable accent. “She’s become a resourceful woman. Despite this interruption, I am sure she’ll do well on her final examinations.”

  “I must say,” Mother responded, eyeing me speculatively, “I did worry that letting her live in that insane asylum you call a ‘women’s university residence’ would damage her manners and deportment.”

  It’s good to know Mother thinks I have manners and deportment, I thought with some relief. There had been many times Mother had despaired that I’d ever gain any such social skills.

  Lady Sato’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Towson ladies are never rude, Elaine. I select the young women myself, as you very well know. While it’s true some aspects of life at the house are out of the ordinary—“

  I thought of Gertrude with her colony of spiders in her bedroom and smiled.

  “—for the most part it is as appropriate and proper a residence as Girton. Towson ladies are more resourseful and clever than their Girton counterparts, is all. Such traits sometimes lend themselves to extraordinary pursuits. Those pursuits cannot be allowed to float through the air on a random breeze. They need to be steered to a proper and appropriate mooring.” Lady Sato turned a shrewd gaze on me. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  My mouth dried up. Her comments and the look on her face indicated quite clearly she knew about me and the Bosch. Who had told her, I wondered? Cora? Several very unladylike phrases flitted across my thoughts though I at least had the presence of mind not to utter them, no doubt due to my manners and deportment.

  Mother’s face indicated puzzled agreement with Lady Sato, but it was very clear she didn’t make any connection to airships from the extended metaphor Sato had used. That was good.

  Then I remembered what Hypatia had said: the Facti knew I was on the Bosch’s crew. Lady Sato and Hugo seemed to know each other. Does that mean Lady Sato is a Facti? Is that even a possibility? How can I find out? I certainly couldn’t ask her about it in front of Mother. Come to that, I thought quickly, how would I ask? ‘Pardon me, Lady Sato, but are you connected to some ancient pagan god that gives you magic powers?’

  If I was wrong, that question would make Lady Sato think me a ‘right nutter’, as Griff would say. Hopeful I was right but frustrated that I had no way of knowing for sure, I cleared my throat and managed to say “Yes, ma’am,” with the appropriate tone and conviction.

  “Your mother and I have a great deal to catch up on,” Lady Sato said, smiling warmly at me. “Can you study effectively while we chat? Or perhaps you have some other work to do? It would be a shame to waste this time we’re en-route, don’t you think?”

  I nodded, grateful I didn’t have to participate in a discussion of London society. “Yes, I think I can, Lady Sato,” I said, reaching for my bookbag.

  Mother beamed. “Excellent, my dear.” She waved her hand at me in a shooing sort of gesture. “Get on with it, Ariana.”

  I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise which caused a twinge where my cut was, but tamped down the emotion along with my expression. I pulled out my books, taking care not to reveal my toolkit or the newspaper, and got to work, looking up from time to time to keep an eye on the people who walked past our cabin. It was a great relief to find the letters and numbers stayed on the page in their proper order and didn’t move about like a drunken barn dance as they had a couple days before. I settled in to my work. Mother and Lady Sato spoke about society gossip and the London season in a low murmur I barely noticed, and the first leg of the train trip passed by in a blur of equations and cautious paranoia.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  We stopped in York, the train pulling into the station in darkness, the platforms and train station lit by phosphorite lamps.

  It was a city on edge. The police who stood in force in the station were tense and hyper-alert, scanning everyone who passed them to see if they were Enhanced. I saw three policemen holding oddly configured guns on an Enhanced man with a mechanical foot in a dark corner, his empty shoe on the pavement beside him. A fourth policeman inspected the man’s travel documentation and I noticed with some relief that the man’s eyes looked completely normal.

  Passengers scurried back and forth, eager to make their trains or move on out into the city, but they did so without smiling or making eye contact. Over the din of the trains and the crowd, the newsboys waved papers with garish headlines, shouting about Enhanced uprisings in Manchester, Liverpool, and Bristol. I was desperate to read the newspaper I’d bought to find out more about what was happening. I clutched my bookbag in frustration in my right hand while I carried Hugo in his cage with my left. The porter loaded our belongings onto a cart and followed as Mother, Lady Sato and I quickly made our way to a carriage that would take us and our luggage to our accommodations. Lady Sato found one, paid the porter and the carriage driver, and in just a few minutes we were on our way to our lodgings for the night.

  The Royal York Hotel was less crowded than the train station had been, but the staff was clearly vigilant and security-minded. That eased my mind somewhat, but I still scanned the guests for any possible threat. Three police officers patrolled the well-appointed lobby, and one stood at the top of the wide staircase looking down at the comings and goings of the guests. I took in the tall corinthian columns and the black ironwork of the stairwell balustrade illuminated by countless lamps, impressed by the size of the place. Hugo, safely in his cage, looked around and trilled in approval. Mother ignored Hugo’s commentary and asked the porter where we checked-in. He pointed us past the staircase to the left, where there was a long marble counter with red uniformed clerks behind it, helping other guests.

  Lady Sato turned to us. “Allow me take care of this,” she said to Mother. “I’ll get the room keys and have the porter take our trunks up. Do you feel like having dinner in the dining room, or shall I ask about room service?”

  Mother turned to me. “Ariana?”

  “Is it all right if I just go to the room?” I asked. I wanted to give Hugo time out of the cage, and I knew that wouldn’t be allowed in the common dining area. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I need a little something,” Mother said. “Let’s have them send up something simple, shall we?”

  Lady Sato inclined her head. “That would be most agreeable,” she said. She walked toward the counter and motioned the porter forward with the luggage cart that held our trunks.

  Mother turned to me, weariness making her face drawn and pale. “This has been a very long day,” she said. “It’ll be pleasant to have something to eat and retire for the night.”

  More than you know, I thought, remembering my adventure at Dr. Sanburne’s office.

  “You never told me how you came by the raven,” Mother said, looking down at Hugo. “He’s a very well-mannered bird though I can’t imagine how you convinced Mrs. Gildersleeve to allow him in the house.”

  “His name is Hugo,” I told her. “He was a gift. As to how he became mine and what I did to convince Mrs. Gildersleeve to let me keep him in the house... well... it’s a long story.”

  Mother looked at me for a long moment. “The last time you said that, we spent three days washing molasses off the carriage horses and staff.”

  I grimaced, remembering. When I was seven, I’d read about how knights defended medieval castles with my tutor Mr. Browdle. After the lesson, not having boiling oil to hand, I had climbed into the rafters of the stable and poured the entire household supply of molasses on the horses, coachman and stable boy in defense of my ‘castle’. Father had laughed for days and praised my sneak attack. Mother forbade my climbing rafters and engaged Mr. Browdle in a str
enuous conversation concerning my course of study. Shortly after that I’d bent the knives in my Arthurian ‘sword in the stone experiments’, and Mother insisted we stay away from the more ‘romantic subjects’ in lessons.

  “No molasses this time,” I told her. “Just superior debating skills.”

  “That’s a relief,” Mother said. “Less washing that way.” She looked me up and down. “I hope the other dresses in your trunk are more fashionable than what you have on now. Your Great Aunt will think your father and I neglect you if she sees you in those sorts of clothes.”

  Aunt Miranda had divined the true reason for my out-of-date dresses, of course, but I kept that to myself. I looked down at my plain, but perfectly serviceable garments. “Dresses fit for garden parties are not fit for riding a bicycle or participating in laboratory classes. There is no social scene in Cambridge as there is in London, and even if there were, I’m so busy with my studies I’ve no time to attend such soirees.” Not to mention my prefering to avoid such kinds of gatherings, I thought.

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said and reached out a hand to feel the fabric on my skirt, “but it makes you look so dowdy, Ariana,” she complained, dropping the fabric and rubbing her fingers together as if considering something. “You’re a pretty girl. I’ve no idea why you don’t want to dress the part. No gentleman of quality will give you a second glance in that ensemble.”

  “Did Father base his decision to marry you on the clothes you wore at the time?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  Mother pondered the question with far more care than I would have. “I don’t think he based the decision on it, but my attire and bearing caught his eye and his interest from the first. After that,” she sniffed, “my other qualities became known to him, and I should like to think those are what decided him in favor of marrying me.”

  “Ah,” I said.

  “That is why one’s wardrobe is so important, particularly at your age and in your station in life, my dear. You neglect it at your peril.”

  “What time does the train leave tomorrow?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  Mother shrugged her shoulders, aware that I’d diverted the conversation, but not bothered by it. “I’ve made arrangements for a carriage to take us to the station at a quarter past nine. The train leaves at a quarter past ten for Aberdeen.”

  Lady Sato returned. She held up two bronze key fobs with bronze keys attached. “They’ll send up some food in a bit,” she explained, “and we’re sharing a two room suite. It has two doors to the hallway, with two connected rooms and four beds. Your Mother and I will be in one room, and you’re in the other, Ariana.” She indicated the stairway. “We’re on the second floor. Shall we head up?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  We climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and turned into a sedate hallway. White wood paneling ran halfway up the walls, topped by a chair-rail. Above the rail, light blue striped wallpaper reached to the ivory plaster ceiling, with an occasional picture or painting on the walls breaking up the spaces between the white room doors, their numbers on plaques to the right of each door. The hotel staff had turned down the lamps in the hallway so the hall had the feel of late afternoon light rather than full-on daylight. It was a simple matter to find my room, which was on the left and three doors down from the stairway. Mother and Lady Sato walked past me to enter the next room over with their own key.

  I entered the hotel room, locked the door behind me and relaxed somewhat. The room had tan walls, a vanity, dresser, two armchairs and two nightstands in a light tan wood and two ponderous looking beds with white bedclothes and coverlets. The carpet was brown, while framed lithographs hung on the walls. My trunk sat on the luggage rack near the dresser, and the porter had lighted the lamps above the nightstands in anticipation of my arrival. A candlestick telephone sat on the right-hand nightstand. One wall had two windows that looked out over York, framed with heavy brocaded curtains that matched the carpet. I thought I could see the spire of York Minster out one window, grey in the moonlight. The bathroom, small and tiled, was to the right of the door. The door that led to the room Mother and Lady Sato were in was to the left, and Mother immediately opened it to inspect my accommodations.

  “Not bad,” she pronounced, nodding in approval, “and the hotel has no problem with our feathered friend,” she said.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “The food should be up shortly. Lady Sato gave them our room number for room service. I’ll let you know when it arrives, shall I?”

  I put Hugo’s cage on the floor and opened its door so he could hop out. He flew to one of the windows and took up a perch on the sill. Moonlight spilled through the window and illuminated Hugo so he looked more charcoal grey than raven black.

  Mother watched in astonishment as Hugo settled, seeming as comfortable on the sill as he would be in a tree. I cleared my throat. “I don’t really feel hungry, but I’ll see what’s on offer when it comes. Thank you, Mother.”

  “Good heavens,” she exclaimed, pointing at Hugo. “Won’t he make a mess if he’s out of the cage?” Hugo shot her an affronted look, which even my mother understood. She bristled slightly.

  “I do beg your pardon,” she said to Hugo and headed back into her own room. “I’ll just shut this door. You may be comfortable with such a creature milling about, but I would rather he stay out of our room.”

  With that, she stepped through the door that linked our two suites and shut it behind her, the latch sliding into place with a soft clicking sound.

  I dropped my bookbag on the bed nearest the windows in relief, pulling out the Times and glancing at the headline. It read “Enhanced Troubles Continue” and a scan of the article titles below it detailed the difficulties the authorities dealt with around England.

  “Well, Hugo?” I asked, looking up at him. “Do the accommodations pass muster?” He scanned the room for a moment, then nodded slightly.

  I indicated the window. “Do I need to let you out to… erm… fly around a bit or anything?” Hugo opened his beak and croaked, and I had the distinct feeling he laughed at me.

  “Pardon me, I must say,” I responded with some asperity, mimicking Mother a little. “I’ve never travelled with a raven before.” Hugo croaked again, shook his head and resumed his vigil looking out the window.

  I sat down on the bed and read the articles fully. I felt cold horror run down my back as the details of the disturbances revealed themselves. The steel-eyed Enhanced rioters had started by attacking people at random. They’d set buildings on fire and watched as people burned alive within them. The list of the wounded and the tabulation of property damage was extensive and astonishing. The police had responded in force in all of the cities, but their Gauge guns hadn’t stopped the Enhanced ruffians. The police had resorted to revolvers, but even bullets had little effect. It was clear the authorities didn’t really know what to do. Bills had started in Parliament to banish all Enhanced people from the Empire. The Prime Minister had called for ‘national calm’ in his speech that afternoon though I wasn’t sure what that meant. How can Father leave London and go to Scotland with these disturbances taking place all over? I wondered.

  I shook my head in frustration as I folded the newspaper back up, but didn’t put it in my bookbag. If I’d had a chance to speak to Hypatia longer, or have the long talk Andrew had promised, I was sure I’d have more answers, or at least know what sort of questions to ask.

  My left wrist started to itch, and I scratched it absently until I realized the itch wasn’t on the surface but came from within. I had a flashback to when Laufeson had made his first attempt to take me, and how that part of my wrist had twitched deep inside.

  Revulsion, panic, and dread crept into me as realization dawned. Laufeson had said ‘the spell still holds after all this time.’ Is that spell part of something implanted in my body, I wondered. If so… when and how had it happened? If something was there – I felt it twitch again and s
wallowed hard.

  If something is there, I began again, getting a firm grip on my fear and forcing a logical train of thought over it, then it isn’t mechanical. If it were, the Gauges I’d used in countless pubs over the past year and a half would have picked it up. Before the past few days, I’d have scoffed at the idea of someone putting a spell on me, but now? Now I realized it was a distinct and very worrisome possibility, and I had no idea what to do about it.

  Mother opened up the door that divided our rooms and I quickly tucked the folded paper under my skirt. She stuck her head around the door and looked at me.

  “Room service just brought the food up, if you’d like any,” she said. I nodded to indicate I understood and Mother shut the door again.

  Clenching my fists, I worked to put the puzzle pieces together from the dribs and drabs of truth I’d gathered. I curled my legs up and pulled them close to my chest, grateful for once of the tight hold the corset had on my torso. Forced into measured breaths by steel-boned foundation garments, I began assembling facts in my mind with the same concentration I applied to differential equations. There were several variables to consider, and I was not dealing with a linear problem.

  Andrew had said that I was part of a world where stories mattered and magic was real. Some presence had the power to take over my body and perform magic, as the blue symbols on the cobblestones indicated, but it wasn’t an ability I could call up on my own, nor did I know its source. The Facti had magical abilities conferred by artifacts, Hypatia had said. Andrew’s must have been the pendant and the gold tracery on his chest, I mused. I didn’t see what Hypatia’s artifact was, unfortunately. I’d never received any sort of artifact, so far as I knew, so I wasn’t a Facti, but Hypatia implied that I would be.

  The ruffians at Dr. Sanburne’s office had the steel eyes that matched those who started the riots and disruptions that currently threatened England’s stability. The men who’d been with Oberlin on the road had seemed to have a silver sheen to their eyes, though the disagreeable professor hadn’t. What does that mean? I wondered.