by Peter Oxley
I nodded. “It is the least we could do, seeing as how you are being so accommodating to our last minute request.”
“Unlike our overbearing friends down there, it is not too hard to get the Prime Minister to agree to a meeting with you. I believe that what you have to say is a lot more… stimulating than his usual fare.”
N’yotsu grunted and we shared a glance. I suspected that our enthusiastic patron might consider our latest news to be a case of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ “I do love this staircase,” I said, already regretting the words as they came out of my mouth. N’yotsu grinned at me: small talk in formal settings had never been a strength of mine.
“Indeed,” said the official. “It is currently the one part of this building that is in a half-decent state of repair. Would that we could hold all our meetings here.”
After a short wait we were ushered into a long and meanly furnished room, at the other end of which, sat behind a huge mahogany desk, was Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, a scrawny man with a long face topped off with a shock of curly black hair. He set down his quill and grinned at us. “The conquering heroes return,” he said, coming round to offer us an ink-stained hand in greeting. “Please, be seated. Williams, some refreshments if you would be so kind.”
“Augustus was just admiring your staircase, Mr Disraeli,” said N’yotsu in an amused tone.
“Hmm. Yes, the one section that does at least look the part, and the one section which I sometimes wish would collapse, if only to make it harder for tiresome politicians to pester me. So, when did you return?”
“This morning,” I said. “We have come straight from my brother’s laboratory. Apologies for not coming direct but we had some people with us who we needed to ensure were deposited safely there.”
Disraeli waved a hand dismissively. “I am pleased to have something worthwhile to engage with at last. My time seems to be comprised solely with political machinations and that damned Irish question. Honestly, do none of them realise there is a war going on?”
“Speaking of which, sir,” said N’yotsu, “we bring disturbing news.”
We were interrupted by the Prime Minister’s orderly bringing in a tray of tea and waited until he had left before continuing.
“Our train was attacked by a horde of demons and Soul-less just north of Nottingham and we were forced to make an unscheduled stop there, where we encountered some trouble. The local populace were somewhat… restive.”
Disraeli frowned and then bellowed: “Williams!” The orderly opened the door after a second’s pause. “Yes, sir?” he asked.
“Are Cranbrook and Hampton around? They should hear this.”
“I have seen Earl Cranbrook downstairs, sir,” the orderly said. “But I believe Baron Hampton is in the House. Shall I send for him?”
“No, no,” Disraeli waved a hand. “Send up Cranbrook. He will suffice; we can brief Hampton later if need be.”
A few moments later a round-faced balding man with an impressive set of white side-whiskers entered the room. We stood as Disraeli made the introductions. “Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to introduce Gathorne Hardy, the first Earl of Cranbrook and my Home Secretary. Now please, do continue.”
“We had cause to make a stop in Nottingham and were met with what can only be described as a lynch mob,” I said, “led by a gentleman who now purports to be the supreme authority in that city. An individual who goes by the name of William Morley, supposedly styled Witchfinder General.”
I had expected guffaws of laughter or at least outright disbelief, but instead was met with a frantic exchange between the two statesmen.
“I told you that we should have stamped on these characters as soon as they started coming out of the woodwork,” said Cranbrook.
Disraeli ran his fingers through his hair. “It is not that simple. You know that, Gathorne.” He turned back to us. “How many were in this lynch mob?”
I shrugged. “It felt like half the city. We had to run the gauntlet from the garrison to the train station, and I believe it was only thanks to the bravery of the soldiers that we managed to get away.”
“Their ire seemed mainly directed towards me,” said N’yotsu. “There was a strong anti-demon sentiment there. Which is understandable, if a little unfair in the circumstances.”
“And what did the police do?” asked Disraeli.
“I think you will find that Nottingham’s chief constable is the same individual who now calls himself Witchfinder General,” said Cranbrook. When Disraeli turned to him he held up his hands in mock surrender. “I have raised this concern a number of times. The rule of law is being supplanted by petty superstitions, and the common constabulary are by no means immune. Especially when idiots like this Morley fellow fan the flames. Every street preacher and half of those behind pulpits are declaring that we are in the midst of the End of Days. Given everything that has happened over the past few years, it is in a sense understandable.”
Disraeli glared at his Home Secretary.
“Why not replace Morley and his like with more sensible, loyal types?” I asked. “You are the Home Secretary; you have that power, surely?”
“Ordinarily I would agree. But these are not ordinary times and to do so would be an affront, possibly a treasonous one.”
N’yotsu nodded slowly. “Morley said that he answers to a ‘higher power.’ I take it from what you have said that he means the Crown?”
Disraeli stood and started pacing the room. “I am afraid so. Ever since the events of a few years ago, Her Majesty has been very… proactive.”
“Can she do that?” I asked. “Create new posts willy-nilly?”
They all looked at me. “She is the Queen,” said Disraeli slowly. “And my predecessor was unfortunately not really in a fit state to challenge her. Not only due to his ill-health, but we have a minority in Parliament and have been somewhat distracted by the Reform Act as well as the whole demon issue. Demon incursions, the Soul-less raiding towns and villages the length and breadth of the country; the army has enough on its hands. For a while we were merely happy to have one less thing to worry about, and at least Morley and his kind keep the streets in order.”
“I am curious,” said N’yotsu, “as to what has motivated Her Majesty to behave in this manner. Does she not trust your abilities to maintain law and order? What is the role of these Witchfinders?”
“Her Majesty sees the current crisis as an existential one, a religious threat as well as a physical one. Demons feature quite prominently in the Bible, after all. As the Head of the Church, she believes it is her duty to ensure that her people are protected from all angles. The Church, for their part, are enjoying their new-found hold over her conscience. Whenever I try to insist that the government and army be allowed to take charge, I am reminded of our failures last time.”
“Although,” said Cranbrook, “on the plus side, the Witchfinders have been effective at keeping order and the populace in line. Until now, in any case.”
“The concept of Witchfinders has always been inextricably linked to religion,” I mused. “Especially on the Continent: it was often a handy tool for the local church to rid itself of bothersome heretics.”
“Fascinating though all of this is,” said N’yotsu, “it is worth pointing out that the Captain of the Nottingham garrison was a powerless prisoner for some time. I would wager that other cities have similar issues.”
“If you could persuade Her Majesty to at least make her Witchfinders report to the Home Office, that would go some way to containing matters before it is too late,” Cranbrook said.
Disraeli sighed and nodded. “Very well. She is very protective of her Witchfinders, but with this new evidence I may be able to persuade her to rein them in for a time at least. Leave it with me. Was there anything else to report, gentlemen?”
“I am afraid so,” said N’yotsu. “We encountered a new demon, a rather unpleasant fiend named Gaap. We engaged him in battle but he unfortunately managed to escape
, thanks to the intervention of a creature known as a Mage.”
“Is that a type of demon as well?” Disraeli asked.
“Yes. Rather a powerful one too; Gus can testify to that.”
“Indeed,” I said. “It compelled me to attack N’yotsu. For a while I was hell-bent on killing him, thanks to its influence. It seems that the creature can make people do things against their will. Worse, it can make them believe that they want to do the very thing they’re being forced to do.”
“From what I remember, you have a similar ability?” said Disraeli, watching N’yotsu closely.
“Not quite,” replied my friend. “I—as Andras—could only influence people by playing on their desires or fears. So a number of your colleagues were tempted to act in the ways they did because I played on their lust for power, money or other trappings. Such an ability does have its limitations though. The Mage’s abilities are much purer: they are able to mould a person’s will and bend it as they wish, regardless of the victim’s desires or powers of resistance.”
“How is it that we have not heard of such creatures before?” asked Cranbrook with a hint of scepticism in his tone.
“I did not think any had come through. It appears I was wrong.”
“But you were only planning to tell us after they had come through and corrupted our minds? I am beginning to wonder what other pieces of information you are withholding from us, sir!”
“I can assure you that I have been completely open with you all. But there are myriad creatures out there, many of which will never break through to this world. Would you wish to be jumping at shadows and bogged down in unnecessary details, just so you can say you know everything?”
A thought struck me. “Why did it not affect you?” I asked N’yotsu.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“The Mage. Would it not have been more efficient if it had compelled both of us to fight each other, rather than just me attack you? Or even to just make us stab ourselves and be done with it?”
He frowned. “The ways of demons can sometimes be very inscrutable.”
“The demon works in mysterious ways,” quipped Disraeli, earning himself a glare from Cranbrook.
“Indeed,” said N’yotsu. “It may have acted as it did because it was interpreting the orders it had been given in a very literal sense. The Mages have very little ability to think for themselves, you see. Or perhaps it was operating at the extent of its powers by manipulating you, and could not spare the energy to control me as well.”
Disraeli walked round to stand behind his desk. “Mr N’yotsu, Mr Potts, assuming there is nothing more I would speak with my Minister in private.”
“Of course,” I said, standing up. “We have matters to discuss with my brother.”
“Home Secretary,” said N’yotsu, “the matter of this demon Gaap. We suspect he was heading down here to London. Captain Pearce of the Royal Welch Fusiliers is conducting searches, and I am also putting out my own feelers. I would appreciate any assistance that the Constabulary could provide.”
Cranbrook frowned. “I am not going to order my men to engage this demon if that is what you expect.”
“Not at all. If Gaap is spotted, then I just ask that we be informed so we can deal with him. But the more eyes we have looking for the fiend, the better.”
Cranbrook grunted. “Very well. My aide is outside. He can take the details from you and make the necessary arrangements.”
We arrived back at 24 Whitehall to find Maxwell still in excitable conversation with Joshua and Lexie. We allowed this to continue for a while before deciding to intervene.
“I am sure our new guests are tired from their journey,” I said. “Kate, would you be able to take them to the guest quarters?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” said Lexie.
“Yes, we can manage a while longer,” added Maxwell. “They are young and no doubt have plenty of stamina, eh?” His two new protégés grinned at him.
“And you have not yet explained what this ‘Fulcrum’ is that we keep hearing about,” said Lexie.
“Ah, yes,” said Maxwell, settling back as though he were about to read a bedtime story to his children. The effect was completed by the enraptured looks on Joshua and Lexie’s faces. I sighed and shrugged at N’yotsu; clearly we would be forced to wait a little longer until we could get down to business.
“Many tales from the days before the Enlightenment give the impression of the world as being a place full of magic and sorcery, wizards and demons and such like. For a long time, I had assumed that these were mere folk tales or the fevered imaginings of our uneducated forebears, primitive people who did not possess the scientific methods and wherewithal to explain the apparently miraculous.
“However, our first meeting with N’yotsu made me reappraise my views, having witnessed phenomena such as demons and magical powers with my own eyes. The creation of portals to the Aether seemed to accelerate matters, as did our conversations with the demon Andras. In fact, Andras intimated that science and magic are effectively two mutually exclusive elements that cannot exist easily together. Not only that, but Andras stated that the dawning of our age of science had effectively ended the age of magic, making it difficult—if not impossible—for demons as well as human sorcerers to undertake such actions as passing through the Aether or summoning others from it. Effectively, it was science that trapped Andras and his fellows here in our realm.”
“But it was also science—your devices—that released them into this world?” asked Lexie.
“Indeed,” said Maxwell. “But my devices also inadvertently punched a hole in the fabric of reality, giving magic a foothold in our world once more. You see, it appears that the Aether is intimately connected to magic. As a result, the continued weakening of the barriers between our realm and the Aether has increased the strength and propensity of magic here also. And because magic and science are mutually exclusive…”
“…science is on the wane while magic is in the ascendancy,” concluded Joshua.
“That is correct,” said Maxwell. “Which partly explains how you have been so much more successful in your endeavours than many other magicians in the past.”
Joshua looked hurt at the insinuation and so I quickly added: “Although of course you are also a highly talented individual, which helped immensely.”
Maxwell glared at me, clearly not appreciating the reason for my interjection. He picked up a piece of paper and scrawled a pair of axes upon it. “The x-axis,” he said, pointing to the horizontal, “represents time, while the y-axis is, for want of a better term, the relative power or prevalence of elements within our world. I, and most others in my field, have always assumed that ‘science’—again, for want of a better term, but by which I mean all of the laws that we have existed by, as in not the supernatural or magical—is effectively stable within this equation, like so.” He laid his pencil horizontally, towards the top of the y-axis, illustrating a straight line unchanging over time.
“However,” he continued, picking up the pencil once more, “it appears that it is in actuality a declining force, like so.” He drew a diagonal line sloping downward from the top of the y-axis to the far right-hand point of the x-axis. “Whether that is a natural phenomenon or something that has been brought into being through our actions is of course open to debate.”
“Wait,” frowned Lexie. “You are assuming here a linear relationship. But surely, given our observations and what you have said about historical phenomena, it would be more of a polynomial?”
“Yes, yes,” said Maxwell. “That is likely to be the case, but I am here just taking a shortened period of time, so we are effectively seeing a very defined segment of the curve.”
Kate and I shared a glance. “In English please?” I asked.
Maxwell grunted. “Lexie has very accurately pointed out that it is more likely that the strength of science over time in this graph would look more like this.” He drew a wavy line on a separate piece of paper. “
That would accord with the fact that historical observations indicated a more magical world, until the dawn of the Renaissance brought about a shift towards a more scientific way of thinking.” He moved his finger along the line, moving upwards from the bottom of the curve as he spoke. “I would expect this trend to be accurate over a broad span of time—centuries or even millennia—but if we look at a shorter period then the curve effectively becomes straight: see?” He marked out a very small section of the line and we all nodded slowly.
Maxwell returned to his original graph. “Newton’s Third Law states: ‘To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction,’ from which we can deduce that there must be a force acting in opposition to that which I am terming for these purposes ‘science’.”
“Magic,” nodded Lexie, as Maxwell drew another line on the graph, this time running at a 45 degree angle from the bottom left-hand corner all the way up, forming an ‘X’ with the other line he had drawn.
“Indeed,” said Maxwell, pointing to the new line. “Represented by this line and acting in direct opposition to ‘science’.”
“This is extraordinary,” said Lexie, “and perfectly logical. If we have readings along various points then we could extrapolate the exact points of convergence, not to mention estimate when the balance will swing back again.”
“Which is what I have been attempting to do,” said Maxwell. “I have taken measurements and done extensive calculations, and I believe that the balance is continuing to tip over time, meaning that we are fast approaching a point at which the dominant element in our world will move from science and into magic. This point I have named the Fulcrum.” He tapped the centre of the ‘X’ and smiled at us all, still proud of the name he had given the phenomenon.
“But what would that mean?” asked Lexie.
“Until we reach that point, we can only hypothesise,” said Maxwell. “But I believe that science will become redundant in favour of magical methods that were once merely the stuff of fairy tales. Of course, if there is a relationship then there must be a way to influence it, and effectively reverse what has been happening.”