The Jackal's House

by Anna Butler

  Convocation House Gallowglass is the biggest lion of them all. The Gallowglass holds the Imperium’s purse strings at the Treasury, and nothing roars louder than the chink of gold coin.

  “I don’t think I’ve brought anything, sir. Ned Winter will not allow himself to be taken anywhere he doesn’t want to go. He has a very strong sense of House duty and loyalty.”

  To my astonishment, he didn’t slap me down for insolence. That he wasn’t used to outright resistance was obvious. His mouth was back in a straight line, lips thinning and pressed together. Eyes, cold as a Fimbulwinter blizzard stripping a man to the bone, met mine. Then he smoothed it all out.

  “Perfectly understandable.” He put down his cup and pursed his lips. There was a modicum of coffee foam caught on his mustache, and he licked it clean with the tip of a pink tongue. He took another long, slow look around, and his smile was a stinging ice storm. “This is a pleasant business you have here. I am assured by my finance officer that you have been very diligent in repaying your House loan. Most gratifying.”

  I may have been a military man, but I’ve seldom indulged in fisticuffs. Boxing always seemed so… well, unrefined. But I had been punched in the gut once, when I inadvertently got between two warring factions in a public house in Cape Town. I knew what it felt like, a fist slamming into your midriff, breath whooshing out of you until you gasped like a drowning man. That sensation was back. I couldn’t breathe for an instant, the weight of something on my chest blocking every effort to pull air into my lungs.

  The devil! The wily, manipulative misbegotten old devil!

  One word from him and the mortgage would be recalled. I didn’t have the capital to pay him, and he knew it. I’d be ruined.

  His smile moderated from ice storm to mere frost. “I think we understand each other, Rafe.”

  While John was more bluster than danger, his father was altogether different. What I wanted to do was tell the old devil to go and fry in Hades. It nettled me that I could only settle for a firm “I will not risk my friendship with Ned.”

  “My dear Rafe, I don’t want you to do anything of the kind. Far from it! You quite misunderstand my meaning.” The Stravaigor leaned forward, tapped me familiarly on the knee. “My whole object is to strengthen our new ties with Gallowglass as insurance if our relations with the Cartomancer continue to be strained. Emily’s marriage to a Gallowglass ally is a strong start, of course, but your friendship with their First Heir is an even more powerful weapon in our arsenal. I don’t want you to do anything but keep that friendship green.” He sat back. “The chances of a reconciliation with the Cartomancer seem remote at the moment. We cannot afford to be a rootless, unallied House. They don’t last. With links through the Plumassier and you, what I’m looking for is the opportunity to draw closer to Gallowglass. If it comes to it, I’ll be considering switching our allegiance. The more voices to speak for us, the better.”

  What the pointy-tailed, two-horned devil? He’d break an allegiance that was generations old?

  “I… I….” I couldn’t find the words. It was… it was just unthinkable. It just wasn’t bloody well done. The level of duplicity involved boggled the mind. “But—”

  “I know. A novel concept, but one I must plan for. You have Ned Winter’s ear. You can make our case to him. If the need arises, I expect you to do so. When I ask for your assistance and tell you what I need Gallowglass to hear, I expect your cooperation. For the sake of the House and everything you owe it—because everything you are comes from Stravaigor. Don’t forget that. It’s a debt I’ve never asked you to repay, but I do expect you to be mindful of it.” He rose to his feet in one easy movement, brushing one or two cake crumbs from his impeccably cut trousers. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ve enjoyed our little chat, and I do like your coffeehouse. A very snug little business.”

  I took a step or two after him as he went toward the door. “That’s all?”

  The Stravaigor paused and turned a smiling, inquiring face to me. I’d as soon trust a rabid dog than that smile.

  “That’s all you want of me?”

  “Were you expecting more?”

  I held my tongue. It would not be politic to admit I’d thought he’d be demanding my participation in some conniving, Machiavellian scheme where he’d expect me to betray Ned somehow, to deceive him, to break trust, to… to be a crooked, devious, dishonorable Stravaigor like the rest of the Lancaster family. I’d anticipated something far more stab-in-the-back than “Stay friends, Rafe, until we need you.” What in heaven’s name was the point of his coming all this way just to say that? It made no sense.

  The Stravaigor chuckled that charmless, glacial laugh of his. He beckoned me close, leaned in so his breath ghosted against my ear. “I know you, far better than you think. You’ll twist and turn to try and get away, but we are your House. Your family. Your final allegiance rests with us. I have watched you these last few years and indulged you with a great deal of liberty, more than any other member of the House, because I see a value in you that others have missed… indeed, I have always seen a value in you. And soon we may have to prove it, you and I.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, heavy as sin. “I have a greater regard for you than you realize, but I will not tolerate insolence or defiance. Do not do it again.”

  He gripped hard, pressing on nerves and sinew, using the pain to underscore his point while I struggled to find my bearings, to feel the earth solid beneath my feet.

  What in damnation?

  He turned away. I stumbled after him, back into the coffeehouse. He signaled Tatlock, who jerked his head toward the silent guard beside him. In seconds, the door was unlocked and the second guard had darted out into the street. An armed autocar slid to a halt.

  The Stravaigor gave Hugh and Alan a lordly nod of recognition. “Yes, a very snug business. Good day to you, Rafe, and thank you for your hospitality. It was excellent coffee.”

  I don’t know what I said in answer. I stood at the door while he and Tatlock climbed into the autocar. Behind me came a faint splat as coffee dripped from one of the cold-fusion alembics behind the counter. In the street, the autocar’s aether engine vented steam from its emissarium and surged away.

  “What in hell was that all about?” Alan’s voice was raw, strained.

  The autocar turned into Great Russell Street, heading west.

  “Captain?” Hugh was at my elbow. Anxious. Concerned.

  I turned the door sign to Open and hoped Hugh didn’t see how much my hand trembled. A little trip-hammer headache started in my temples. I suspected I’d need an apothecary’s tincture of something noxious to restore the balance of my humors. I’d have to settle for one of my own coffees. “The lunchtime crowd will be here soon. We’d better get ready for them.”

  Chapter 3

  I RETIRED to my office to bang my head against the desk and wish to every god known to mankind that my House would disown me. Dear Lord, how badly had I sinned to be inundated with Stravaigors?

  John had come to intimidate and bully; I could dismiss him. But the Stravaigor? All the way from Kensington just to say, “Carry on, Rafe!” And he thought I’d plead the House’s case for him if he decided to turn renegade, or that the Gallowglass would listen? The Gallowglass was no fool, and unlikely to look kindly on a House that deserted its main ally. No one trusted Judas.

  The Stravaigor had not intended to ask anything substantive of me, I was certain of that. Not at this juncture, at least. He’d come to remind me of my obligations. The real crisis point, the moment he’d be using those obligations to put me under duress, was yet to come. Essentially, he had counted House assets, done his accounts—and there I was on his balance sheet. I might be as shy and fugitive as my own errant guinea, but he was a better accountant than I was, and he considered he’d nailed me. And apparently in the credit column, since he saw a value in me.

  A value.

  Great Caesar’s clog-dancing ghost! What I wouldn’t give for a revolution. I’d sup
port the dirtiest sans-culotte on the planet if he promised to abolish the Houses.

  I couldn’t see that happening. All that remained was to deal with the Houses and make my own way as best I could.

  I AM not charmed by children. I have never had much to do with them, and they’re as unknown a creature as the kraken or unicorns. I’d almost prefer John’s guard or Mr. Tatlock. Or even my head of House, and that is indeed saying something. At least I have courage and experience enough to deal with them. Children, however, needed a higher order of courage altogether, and one I wasn’t certain I possessed.

  I’d at least have liked some warning. Ned Winter, however, didn’t give me any.

  Some days I wonder what I am doing, conducting a liaison amoureuse with a man who thinks nothing of foisting House guards and children on me. But his personal beauty and a rather charming innocence, despite being the Gallowglass First Heir, would warm the chilliest of hearts, and mine blazes like the sun when he’s around. Once I would have cheerfully admitted that if emotional depth were measured in terms of the oceans, then in my case it would be more of a slight splash of water drying rapidly in the summer sun. At least that had been the case with every man in my life until Ned. He somehow found depths in me I didn’t know existed, and claimed them for his own.

  It is the best excuse I can offer for my inability to set my face against Edward Fairfax Winter: I am very fond of him.

  That did not, in my view, excuse the scene that greeted me in the early afternoon. If I were ever to be free of Stravaigor, I needed every penny I could lay my hands on, and I had returned to the account books to find that missing guinea. Before I could resort to banging my head again, Hugh called me to the front of the coffeehouse, but this time he was smiling and unstressed.

  “It’s Professor Winter, sir. He’s asking for you.”

  Well, that was a pleasant surprise. It would be a canard, however, to insinuate that I ran to the front of the shop to meet him. My natural gait was rather swift, that was all.

  Ned stood by the counter. “Rafe.” He held out his hand, his palm warm against mine. “I’m fitting in some extra museum work today and thought we’d drop in for sustenance first.”

  By “we” I assumed he meant himself and Sam Hawkins, his fearsomely armed shadow, who had put himself between Ned and harm for years. I glanced past Ned’s enticing visage to nod a greeting, only to find that for once Hawkins wasn’t standing there brandishing a weapon of sufficient caliber to remove the Britannic Museum’s central dome with one shot. Instead, Hawkins held a child’s hand in one of his own and a leash in the other. The leash terminated in a curly-haired brown dog with an enormous flag of a bushy tail.

  My acquaintance with Sam Hawkins had started badly when he’d pushed his harquebus into my face, and had continued on a strained note throughout my courtship of his lord and master. I sometimes thought Sam didn’t quite approve of me. However, we’d made common cause some five weeks earlier when dealing with a conspiracy against Ned, and together we had led the rescue against House Gallowglass’s enemies. Since then, I rather thought I’d been reclassified as one of the… well, no, not one of the angels. That would be stretching credulity too far. An ally, at least. Sam had thawed toward me to the point where I could call him by his first name and not get shot for my pains.

  Not that day, however. That day, he was most definitely Hawkins. He returned my gaze with one that spoke clearly of death and dismemberment if I so much as grinned. I looked back at Ned, since the view was prettier, and raised an eyebrow.

  He grinned with impunity, but then Sam was exceedingly unlikely to dismember him. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind my bringing Harry with me.”

  “The child or the dog?”

  “My elder son. Harry.” Ned gave me a half smile. “As you well know.”

  As indeed I did. I looked at the child, who gave me a hard stare back. Probably Hawkins taught him that. “I don’t know much about children. Or dogs.”

  “That’s Molly. She and Harry are inseparable.”

  “House-trained, I hope?” I would not smile back. I wouldn’t. “The place was just decorated six months ago.”

  “She’s a well-behaved little animal, despite a slight tendency to get overexcited in social situations and pee all over the floor.” Ned’s mouth did that upward curving at the corners that wasn’t quite a full smile and which always made me press my lips together hard in an effort not to kiss him in public and get us both into trouble. “I’ll make Sam clean it up.”

  “I meant Harry.”

  Ned stared, then threw back his head and laughed. “Harry usually refrains from public urination. Let me present him.” He turned and beckoned Sam and young Harry forward. “Rafe, my elder son, Henry Winter—”

  “It’s my grandpapa’s name.” The child’s stare was really quite unnerving. Unflinching. I had always thought brown eyes to be soft and doe-like, indicative of warmth, kindness, and bonhomie. More fool me.

  “Harry.” Ned’s tone was nicely judged to quell interruptions. He repeated, “My elder son, Henry Winter. Harry, this is Captain Lancaster. He is a very good friend of mine. Make your bow.”

  Harry obeyed. It was a very neat little bow, although he looked up at me all the while, the stare unabated.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Winter.” I would have said more, but I couldn’t offhand remember the words of the ritual of exorcism, and a simple “Avaunt, ye daemonic spawn of Satan!” was likely to hurt Ned’s feelings.

  Harry straightened and offered an unusual greeting. “Do you like bones?”

  “Not particularly. Should I?”

  “I like bones. My papa likes bones.” Harry sidled across to his father and slipped his hand into Ned’s. “He has lots of them in the cellar.”

  “At the museum, I hasten to add. Just in case anyone is worried about my domestic habits.” Ned smiled down at his son.

  “My papa’s friends all like bones.” Harry’s eyes narrowed to such an extent I wouldn’t be surprised if seeing out of them was like looking through a letter box. “I’m my papa’s best friend. He said so.”

  “Ah.” I glanced at Ned for inspiration, but he was now looking fixedly at my ceiling as if he’d never seen such an architectural oddity before, and his mouth was pulling up very hard at the corners. The only recourse was flattery. “I’m sure you are, Master Winter. I haven’t yet been introduced to your father’s bone collection. Although I’m sure that I’ll be very impressed when I am. Perhaps you can give me some pointers when it comes to appreciating their finer qualities? I’m always willing to learn from an expert.”

  “Mmn.” Harry looked up at Ned. “He talks funny, Papa, and he doesn’t like bones. May I have a fairy cake?”

  A miserable failure on my part, then. Harry, it seemed, was a force to be reckoned with.

  Ned, smirking, agreed to both a cake and a hot chocolate drink. Sam took Harry over to one of the booths and seated the child so he was hidden from view of the windows. The dog scrambled to get under the seat, where presumably, it would have the best possible chance of collecting any food falling its way. All dogs are opportunists at heart. That they’re honest about it is one of their most endearing characteristics.

  I noticed, too, that my tenants, Matthews and Rosens, had lumbered downstairs and evidently left the building by the side passage door. They had each taken one of the small pavement tables I’d added to give the coffeehouse a more continental air. They hulked out there, eyeing up potential customers and having a dolorous impact on the sophisticated café culture I was trying to evoke.

  Ned frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong? Why should you think anything is wrong?”

  He gave me what my old nanny used to call The Look. The sort that said, “You don’t fool me, Master Rafe, and is that a frog in the pocket of your best knickerbockers?”

  “Well, perhaps it’s because I’ve asked you twice about your plans for this evening without getting a co
herent answer, and both Hugh and Alan are a little jumpy. It’s making Sam nervous.”

  He must have asked while I glared at my tenants, although I had no recollection of his inquiries. I glanced at Alan and Hugh. Hugh’s expression was all frown and set mouth. Alan had taken the tray of drinks across to Sam and was bent over, talking rapidly and quietly in his ear. Well, that was no surprise. Alan was an ex-Gallowglass guard, and his loyalties had always been clear as crystal. Sam listened to Alan, but his gaze was on the scene outside the doors, where Rosens and Matthews were interrogating a young man with a parcel. I did hope they didn’t intend to body search every one of my customers, but it seemed only suspicious-looking malcontents with parcels were being held to scrutiny. A gentleman and his lady, who turned out to be tourists from Württemberg, managed to slip past the Rosens-Matthews blockade with no trouble.

  Serving them offered me a moment of respite from Ned’s steady gaze, but he was right. Nerves were on edge all over the shop, and there didn’t seem much point in denying it. All I could do was sigh and bend my neck to the whims of Fate. I directed my customers to a seat with my most winning smile and held up both hands to Ned in defeat.

  “Well, yes, Nanny. That is indeed a frog in my knickerbockers.” And before Ned could do more than stare and choke out a laugh, I went on, “I had visitors earlier today. First the Stravaigor First Heir came calling with his lickspittle in attendance, followed closely by the Stravaigor himself.”

  Ned grimaced, wrinkling his nose in a way that might be considered in some quarters to be rather irresistible. “What did they want?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it now. Were you saying something earlier about meeting for dinner at Margrethe’s tonight?”

  “More of a late supper. I’ll be there by ten, after the boys are settled for the night.”