Still, it was frustrating.
Eventually, I heard footsteps, and Caurus came to join me. He was covered with even more soot, yet the merry twinkle had returned to his blue eyes.
“Milady? Lord Theo has sealed away the King of Djinn, and I have locked the Wounding Wand back up in the Weapons Chamber.”
“Thank you, Caurus! You did a difficult job here.”
“Oh ja, Milady,” he laughed shakily. “Winds aren’t meant to be cooped up underground.”
I nodded, struck suddenly by the hopelessness of the Aerie Ones’ quest for freedom. As employees of Prospero, Inc., they saw firsthand how we dealt with spirits who mistreated human beings. Could they be so foolish as not to realize their longed-for liberty could never come unless they could demonstrate self-control?
“Caurus,” I said slowly, “there is something you should know. I have promised the other Winds that if all eight of you should swear upon the Styx that you can keep your followers from harming mankind, I would let you go.”
The lines of fatigue vanished from Caurus’s face, and his blue eyes danced with a merry light. “A frail hope, Milady, but a little hope is better than none!” He bowed his head respectfully. “I thank you.”
“You are welcome. I realize it’s not much. Boreas explained how the lesser winds are hard to control, as there is nothing that you can offer them.”
Caurus cocked his head. “Ah, but there is something all winds desire, Milady, and not just winds, but every spirit . . . all the supernatural beings and horrors we at Prospero, Inc. seek to tame. Something we want so much, we might do your bidding willingly could you provide it.”
“And that is?”
“Water of Life.”
“Really?”
“Oh ja. It is like nectar to us and like gold, too. It makes us strong and healthy, powerful and wise. Not only do we desire it for ourselves, but there are always lesser spirits we could cajole to do our bidding, were we able to offer them some.” Caurus’s blue eyes twinkled merrily. “If you could offer even a small store, say an ounce a decade? I would swear.”
“Interesting . . .” I murmured thoughtfully.
An ounce a decade? That did not seem like much. Hope rose in my heart. Could freedom for the Aerie Ones become a reality?
Then I did the math, calculating how much Water would be needed to placate the Great Winds, some of whom I suspected would not be as reasonable as Caurus. Unless I could free up my schedule to make the year-and-a-day trip to the Well at the World’s End three or four times a century, this plan would not work. Considering how busy I had been of late, it was not a very likely option.
Of course, if I were a Sibyl, I would be able to make Water of Life. This left me in a bind; if my recent conjectures were correct, so long as I kept the Aerie Ones bound, I would not be a Sibyl, but if I did not let them go, I would never have what I needed to free them.
Were I certain I would be made a Sibyl instantly upon releasing them, I would have been willing to try. However, it was not a sure thing.
As I considered all this, Caurus brought up another stumbling block. Frowning at the broken amphora on the floor, he pointed at the black stains. “But you have no more Styx water, Milady. How could we swear?”
“We can acquire more,” I replied with false confidence. “Or we can hunt down the Three Shadowed Ones and take back the Staff of Darkness from Seir of the Shadows. You could swear on that.”
“Oh ja! That would do it!”
As I spoke Seir’s name, there came a soft hum. I turned.
A gleaming spear point rushed toward my head. Shouting, I dodged sideways into Caurus, and the two of us crashed down into the ash. Above, the spear hovered in midair, vibrating and trembling, like a massive vehicle on idle. Its battered ash shaft was carved with arcane runes. Not finding the incubus, its quarry, it began slowly circling the chamber. I breathed a sigh of relief and started to rise, but could not. My hair was caught on something.
“Milady! Don’t move!”
I froze. To my left was the golden donkey. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see golden wires creeping through the air toward my head. A spasm of terror seized me. Escaped strands of my silvery hair, shaken free during my encounter with Osae, had fallen across the ward around Midas’s donkey and were turning to gold. If the effect reached my head, I, too, would turn to gold.
I yanked my head away, only to be brought up short by pain. The golden hairs had apparently fused to the donkey. I could not move my head. To my left, I could see the gold growing closer.
Screaming, I reached up to tear out the offending hairs. Caurus knocked my hand away. Grabbing the hairs close to my head, he yanked them out and threw them back across the ward to lie at the donkey’s feet. The pain caused my eyes to water.
Theo and Mab had come running when they heard my cry. Now they stood in the door, both singed and soot-covered, gazing at the hovering spear.
“Why is the spear Gungnir hanging in midair?” Theo stepped gingerly around Odin’s spear and extended his hand, which I accepted.
“It’s seeking its prey, Milord,” Caurus rose lightly to his feet. “Lady Miranda set it after the incubus from the Three Shadowed Ones, and being a divine spear, it will continue to seek this prey until such a time as it shall strike it.”
“Why don’t we open the door and let it out?” I suggested. “Won’t Gungnir then seek the incubus across the entire Earth?”
Mab shook his head. “Nah. Never wise to let Gungnir outside of the range of your voice.”
“Otherwise,” explained Theo, “after it stabs your enemy, it will remain in his corpse for his allies to pull out and send back at you.”
“Ah . . . good point.” I looked him over. His hair was singed, and his face smeared with soot. Otherwise, he looked all right. “How did it go?”
“Well enough.” Theo shrugged. “Without either the Staff of Darkness or Styx water, we were not able to make him swear any new oaths. I just hope the old ones are still being enforced.”
“I’ll have my men keep a watch for instances of gas mains exploding, cars bursting into flame, or people spontaneously combusting.” Mab stepped farther into the chamber and glanced around at the fire damage, scowling. “A rise in any activity of this sort would be an indicator that our binding isn’t holding.”
A glitter on my index finger caught my eye. My stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. The outer skin of my finger was dusted with fine gold.
“Is this going to keep . . .”—I swallowed—“spreading?”
Visions of fingerless hands or stiff golden arms crowded my thoughts. My head felt light, and Mab’s voice seemed to be coming from far away.
“Nah, not if it’s no longer in contact with the donkey.” Mab frowned and put his hands in his pocket. “Might have been wiser if you hadn’t touched it, Ma’am.”
“Right. Thanks, Mab. I’ll remember that,” I replied mildly.
“Milady, before you go,” Caurus said suddenly, squinting at Gungnir. “The God’s spear has reminded me—there is something you should see.”
Caurus led us back into the Elemental Chamber. Some seven feet above us, on the left-hand wall near the front of the hall, a small pale object about the size of a playing card had been set into the plaster. Examining it from where I stood, I saw a piece of ivory carved to resemble a small door, complete with fancy moldings and a doorknob. Mab and Theo joined us, and the four of us peered up at the miniature doorway set into the wall of the chamber.
“The spear kept circling, but it spent most of the time hovering beside that ivory rectangle.” Caurus pointed up. “I could see it from where I was standing, but I dared not move away from the sword and the King of Fire’s jar to investigate.”
“That’s strange,” I murmured softly. “That was not here originally. Is this something Father added recently?”
“I wouldn’t know, Ma’am. Mr. Prospero seldom let my kind in here,” Mab replied. “Though I do know he put in some additional s
ecurity measures after Mr. Ulysses’s visit.”
“Get the carpet,” I said. “Let’s take a closer look.”
Getting all four of us onto the carpet was a tight squeeze, but we managed. Rising, we bobbed in front of the little rectangle of ivory. Carefully, I reached out to touch it.
“Better let me do that. You’ve touched enough things today, Ma’am.” Mab moved the carpet forward so that the miniature door was beyond my reach. “Good employer, Miss Miranda, but with the self-preservational sense of a carrot,” I heard him whisper to Theo, who failed to smother his chuckle. I would have shot my brother a reproachful glance, chiding him for encouraging insubordination among my ranks, but he was looking the other way.
As the carpet swayed gently, Mab reached out and touched the ivory door, tapping on it twice.
“Seems solid enough. Even has a doorknob. Wonder if . . .” Mab pulled on the tiny knob.
The little door swung open.
“Where does it lead?” I half rose off the carpet in my astonishment.
Mab opened the little door as wide as it could go. Through the open threshold, I caught a glimpse of a miniature corridor, much like the hallway outside the Vault, only the left wall was missing. Vaguely, in the distance beyond where this fourth wall should have been, I could make out a row of books. The books, unlike the tiny corridor, looked to be full size.
“What witchcraft is this?” growled Theo.
“Perhaps some well-appointed mouse wishes entrance to the Vault undetected?” Caurus offered jovially.
I did not reply but gazed at this enormous hole in our defenses. What use were all the spells and wards guarding this place, if there was an opening inside the defenses? Please, I prayed quietly to my Lady, let this be the last shock of this disorienting day. She gave no answer, which was not a good sign.
“Logistilla’s dollhouse,” Mab observed dryly.
“What!” several of us exclaimed.
“Remember Santa’s scrying pool, Ma’am? That dollhouse we saw in the library where your brother Titus’s children were playing? The one that had tiny ivory doors in it? Well, this looks to be one of those doors, and I recognize that globe over there. See, sitting next to the bookshelf to the left?”
“So, this room we are looking into is . . . ?” Theo began.
“Is inside a dollhouse that sits in the library of Logistilla’s mansion in the Okefenokee Swamp,” I replied frowning.
“But what does this mean?” asked Caurus.
“I don’t know,” I said, my eyes narrowing, “but below this spot, here in the Elemental Chambers is about where we first saw Sei—the incubus.” I glanced quickly over my shoulder, but the hovering spear was nowhere to be seen.
Theo was still frowning at the little door. “Do you think the incubus came into the Vault through Logistilla’s house?”
“That’s about the smell of it,” Mab replied grimly.
CHAPTER NINE
November 1, 1924
“It was sabotage all right!” Mab fumed the next morning. “Gads, but I hate having to admit I was wrong to a furball!”
He stood hunched over the teak table in the drawing room. A ray of early-morning sun glinted off a row of Ziploc baggies stretched out on the sheet of glass that covered the surface of the table. Beside the baggies sat a folded letter and a photocopy of a document written in a cramped script. Under the glass, the table held a large sheet of embossed metal formed and tinted to portray a three-dimensional topographical map of the world, circa 1692. A shelf set into the wall behind us held compasses, protractors, prisms, candles, plumb bobs, and other tools used for cartomancy.
To Mab’s right, Theo sat, blinking sleepily and nursing a cup of coffee. I sat to his left, sipping tea laced with mulberry morath. A silver tray in the middle of the table held scones and Danishes. The scent of cinnamon and warm sugar brought back memories of Father Christmas’s house. I smiled in reminiscence.
“Could we please draw the drapes?” Theo asked. “I am too old to be awake so early.”
He sat with his hand shading his eyes. A bandage on his temple was the only visible evidence of his struggle with the King of Fire, but Marigold, the Aerie Spirit who helped bandage his burns, reported additional injuries on his forearm and chest.
I whistled a bar of Brahms’s lullaby—with my personal house servants, I did not need to resort to the flute—and an Aerie One whisked the drapes shut. The drawing room was now illuminated by antique lamps set into the inner wall. If I closed my eyes and listened, I could hear the hiss of the gas.
“As I was saying . . .” Mab squinted in the comparative darkness. “I’ve got some news, and, well, you are not going to like it. It’s bad, Ma’am, very bad.”
“Go ahead, Mab,” I replied.
“First things first. I examined the warehouse in Michigan from roof to cellar. There’s no question that the damage was deliberate. I found shards of the explosive. There was also a body. The police had me go down to the morgue to see if I could identify it.”
“One of our workers?”
Mab shook his head. Picking up the first of the Ziploc bags, he let the contents clatter to the table: a gold, six-pointed star, a ring with the imprint of an eye within a triangle, and a pin etched with an image of Blind Justice holding her balance scales. All three objects were smudged with soot.
“Cornelius!” Theo exclaimed. “These are his symbols. It must have been one of his people!”
I leaned forward, alarmed. Theo was right. Taken together, the two Orbis Suleimani symbols and the Blind Justice represented Cornelius. My stomach lurched painfully. So, I had been right! Cornelius was undermining the family. He had betrayed us all, just like Uncle Antonio before him!
“The same guy who used his magic staff to make you think you should grow old and die?” Mab asked.
“Who told you that?” Theo stood up. His coffee mug clanged against the tabletop.
“Is it true?” asked Mab.
Theo remained silent. Mab crossed his arms and waited patiently. I held very still, hoping; my tea cup forgotten at my lips. When Theo continued to glare at Mab, I repeated impatiently:
“Is it true?”
“Cornelius did use his staff on me—but only at my request.”
“You asked him to enchant you!” I shouted.
“I . . . er.”
“And you have the audacity to make accusations about me?”
“That’s different.” My brother crossed his arms. “If you had asked Father to enchant you, I wouldn’t trouble myself. Or rather, I’d be troubled, but for a different reason.”
“Well, I’m troubled for that different reason! Why, in the name of all that is holy, did you let him use his staff on you? You said you knew the staffs were actually demons! Wasn’t the whole point of what you were doing to rid yourself of magic?”
Theo looked away, frowning, “I was sick of making resolutions and breaking them. I thought if I only had some help stiffening my resolve . . .” Theo leaned over, coughing. Straightening again, he added stiffly, “In Cornelius’s defense, he was against the idea from the start. Years later, he told me he did not activate his staff, he just let me look at it and make my promise.”
“So he says,” growled Mab.
Theo shrugged. “The whole thing was Ulysses’s idea. He got tired of hearing me complain about the trouble I had keeping my vows, and suggested I ask Cornelius for help.” He sat down again, reclaiming his coffee mug.
“The perp again, eh?” Mab nodded grimly, as if confirming some suspicion.
Was Cornelius not the villain Logistilla had made him out to be? Perhaps I had been entirely mistaken about him!
I felt both relieved and oddly deflated. It had been comforting to pin my fears about Theo upon a brother I disliked, to hope that there was some common cause between Father’s disappearance and the death of Gregor.
I so wanted there to be an enemy. Someone who was responsible for our woes. Someone we could destroy, and then, maybe
everything would get better again: Father would return; Theo would embrace life; Gregor would pop up from the dead; Erasmus would stop mistreating me; horses would learn to sing; and pigs would fly.
I did not blame myself for longing for something to blame for all my sorrows, but I should not have been so eager to find such a target among my own kin. Ashamed by this flaw in my family loyalty, I examined the Star of David, the eye in the triangle, and the pin again.
“Where did you get these, Mab?” I asked sharply.
“Off the body I found in the warehouse.”
“The saboteur?” Suddenly, the ridiculousness of it struck me, and I burst into laughter. “We’re supposed to believe Cornelius blew up a Prospero, Inc. warehouse? What will they try next? Planting evidence that the sun has been secretly coming up in the West?” I paused to wipe my eyes and laughed some more. “This was the Three Shadowed Ones, wasn’t it? The idiots!”
Mab’s eyes narrowed. He regarded me carefully. “You don’t believe Cornelius was behind this?”
“Oh, I believed that Cornelius had enchanted Theo, and I was willing to accept that he might have been in league with the demons, but to believe my brother Cornelius would damage his own stock? Absolutely not! He’s the sole other stockholder in Prospero, Inc. He’d eat his blindfold before he would deliberately reduce his own profits. The very thought is laughable.”
“Then it was a good thing I went out to Michigan myself, Ma’am. Because those posers who work for me would have told you Cornelius’s man blew up the warehouse.” Mab snorted in disgust. “I, on the other hand, thought to ask some pointed questions of the guy at the morgue. Eventually, I got him to reexamine the body. It had been dead for days before it reached the warehouse. Killed in some kind of crash would be my guess, probably an automobile crash.”
Theo leaned forward. “Why would anyone wish Miranda to believe Cornelius was sabotaging the company? It makes no sense.”
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