All Good Things

by Emma Newman

  “There are protections in place to ensure it cannot be done to the Aquae Sulis property deeds,” Richard replied.

  “Protections can be broken,” Lucy said.

  “If George Iris has the gall to declare himself Duke illegally, he certainly has the gall to ask his patron to give him the power necessary to break those protections,” Claudia said to Richard. “I know you think they are indestructible, but if Lord Iris wanted it to be done, he could do it. Everyone knows that he was behind William taking the throne. He would have lost that duel without his patron’s support.” Claudia looked at Lucy. “I can see you have an idea. What is it?”

  “We all want to see George Iris go down, and to be honest, I’d like to kick him into next week, but we have to be smart about this.” She noted the way that Richard’s mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. “He’s declared himself Duke. He’s expecting you both to kick up a fuss. He’s expecting us to refuse to pay that rent. I suggest we do the opposite.”

  “By which you mean welcoming his pathetic coup with open arms?” Claudia said.

  “By which I mean you throw him a ball.”

  “Ha!” The Censor stood up. “This is just the sort of nonsense one from the Colonies would believe to be a—”

  “Claudia!” Richard said her name so sharply she jolted with surprise. “I know you are upset, but there is no excuse for such appalling manners.” He looked at Lucy. “My most sincere apologies. Please, do carry on.” Claudia stood there for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and then sat down again.

  “I know it sounds absurd,” Lucy said after giving Claudia a brief smile to let her know that all was well. She was used to such treatment, after all. It would take far more than that to upset her. “But my thinking is this: he clearly has the support of Lord Iris, as without it, declaring himself Duke would be a dumb—I mean, stupid—thing to do. And while George Iris lacks many things, intelligence isn’t one of them.”

  “Go on,” Richard said.

  “So imagine this: you say to him that he’s entirely right; the Council of Aquae Sulis simply doesn’t work without a third party who holds power, and in light of the fact that Charles signed the properties to him, it makes sense that he be declared Duke. So much sense, you’d be delighted to hold a ball in his honour, to demonstrate your support.”

  Claudia looked like a woman who’d taken a sip of a drink expecting it to be tea only to find it was coffee. “He would never believe us! And besides, the season is over. We cannot hold another ball for at least six months. It simply isn’t the done thing!”

  “Forgive me, Lady Censor, but declaring oneself Duke by signing demands for unreasonable rent increases is hardly the done thing either. We find ourselves in dire circumstances and the need to survive surely outweighs any traditions regarding when one can hold a ball?”

  “Quite so,” Richard said, giving Claudia a look that spoke of her need to agree in no uncertain terms. “Besides, Aquae Sulis has never had a Duke before. It will hardly be the most scandalous breach of tradition, will it, now?”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” Claudia said. “Though I still don’t see any need to give this toad any public credibility.”

  “Ah, well, I haven’t got to the heart of the plan yet,” Lucy said, putting her empty teacup and saucer back on the table. “You see, if we can convince the Irises that they have seized the city, then they will think we have accepted George’s story about the deeds. The family will go to the ball en masse, as they always do, meaning we will know when they are definitely out of the house. Giving someone the perfect opportunity to get the deeds and have them tested for forgery. The local Arbiter will be all too happy to do that. I heard through the grapevine that George Iris was arrested by him not that long ago. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in anything involving Mr Iris.”

  “Are you seriously telling us that the purpose of the ball is to distract the Irises whilst we break into their house like common criminals?”

  “She is and it is brilliant,” Richard said with a broad grin. “Darling, it’s the last thing they’d expect!”

  “Yes, and when we have the proof,” Lucy said, “the entire family and the residents of Aquae Sulis will be conveniently gathered in one location. We’ll be able to publicly shame George Iris, leaving him no opportunity to cover up his crime.” She didn’t mention the fact that William would be there too, and that she had every intention of publicly shaming him as well. She needed to keep the Lavandulas focused on their enemy. “Imagine the satisfaction of destroying him so publicly, while making it very clear that you were both still in control the whole time.”

  Claudia’s face was transformed by the most delighted smile whilst Richard laughed. “My dear girl, I have underestimated you,” she said. “George Iris will be incapable of predicting such a turn of events. Yes, we’ll make this happen, will we not, Richard?”

  “Indeed we will, dear sister. And Lucy, dear, do feel free to call me Uncle. We are related by marriage, after all.”

  Lucy smiled. “Why, thank you, Uncle.” She looked at Claudia, who held up her hand.

  “I will not accept anyone calling me Aunt,” she declared, standing up. “No matter how much they have impressed me,” she added. “Now, of course, we won’t mention anything about a ball until the funeral is over. Do you have a date in mind?”

  “It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but as soon as it is, I will make sure you know.”

  Richard stood and kissed her hand once more. “We shall turn our minds to the more…subtle aspects of this plan, whilst we wait, so we can move quickly. Who knows what else George Iris will do with his power? We need to hold the ball as quickly as possible.”

  Lucy escorted them out to the front door. “I look forward to finalising the arrangements with you,” she said to them both, and after accepting a kiss on the cheek from the Censor, she waved them off as the carriage pulled away.

  She maintained the smile until the door was shut, and then leaned against it with a heavy sigh. The first part of the plan was in place. She just hoped that she could pull off the rest of it. As satisfying as destroying the Irises would be, considering all they’d done to hurt Tom and Cathy, it wasn’t the ultimate goal. And she knew that impressing Lord Poppy would be much harder than winning over the Censor of Aquae Sulis.

  “Interesting times ahead,” she whispered, and then went off in search of her cousin.

  16

  With Cathy away in Bath, Sam felt able to leave the house and go to the office without guilt. Beatrice had left with the locations of the seven forges without mentioning a word about Cathy. Perhaps protecting Max didn’t constitute betrayal. Either way, he was relieved Beatrice had gone, even though she’d promised to return for him “when the time was right.”

  He’d only been there a minute when there was a knock on the door and Des came in. “What’s happened?” Sam asked. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “The ‘something really big and bad has happened but I’m going to look calm and professional’ look.”

  Des put a large sheaf of papers and several full document wallets onto Sam’s desk, obviously trying not to confirm or deny the appraisal. He opened the topmost wallet and took a moment to check the first page. “We had a letter from Lord Copper’s lawyers,” he said, and handed the wallet over.

  “Wait, all of this is one letter?” When Des nodded, Sam handed it back. “Sum it up for me.”

  Des flipped through the sheaf of loose papers and pulled out a smaller clump of pages stapled together. “This is the summary from our lawyer. It’s ten pages long.”

  “Okay. Summarise that one.”

  “Basically, we’re screwed if we try to do anything else along the lines of what you’ve done so far. And Martin Barclay is already screwed. He’s being prosecuted for libel. The lawyer that’s been set on him is a real Rottweiler, apparently. He’s asked for some help from you. Your l
awyer thinks that’s unwise. It’s all a bit complicated. The long and the short of it is this: we need to back down. We need to make the right noises to Copper and we need to distance ourselves from Barclay and his environmental group. And we can’t do anything like the same leak for anyone else in the Elemental Court. They’ve made it clear that this will be a group prosecution if it comes to it.”

  “Okay,” Sam said.

  “So we’re backing down?”

  “No. I meant, ‘okay’ as in I understand what they’re doing. Fuck them. Fuck their bully boy tactics.”

  Des took a deep breath before replying. “Mr Ferran, I’m not a lawyer, so maybe I haven’t summarised well enough here, but Francesca, the lawyer who wrote this summary for you, said that this isn’t a shot across the bow. This is the real deal. We’re one step away from a brutal prosecution. We can’t afford to fight this.”

  There was a time when any sort of threat of legal action—even just a fine for a parking ticket—would have sent Sam to the pub to drown his worries. Now? He knew he had to stand firm. “They can go fuck themselves. Make sure Martin has all the help he needs. The very best lawyer, with as much experience as possible. Make it clear to that lawyer that I am one hundred per cent behind Martin.”

  “But, sir…” Des was actually starting to look flustered. “Have you read the report that your CFO sent you? We’re going to make a loss this year for the first time. Ever. All of this environmental work you’re doing, all the changes, they’re laudable and I really admire you for doing all the things you are, but…it’s expensive. It might even be worth staggering things a bit.”

  Sam shook his head. “No. It’s all long overdue. We stick to the planned changes. And there’s another project I’ll need money for soon. Can you get someone to sell that island Amir owned? I own that now, right? How much would that get?”

  “I think it cost your predecessor somewhere in the region of thirty million dollars, but the resort wasn’t built then.”

  “Right. Okay. What other stuff can I sell? Property-wise, I mean, stuff that’s just for my private use.”

  “I haven’t looked at the portfolio recently. There are several properties, all worth several million each. And a few other assets that could be liquidated.”

  “Can you put a list together for me? With estimates of how much I can get for each one?”

  “Sir, you’re not going to force them to take you to court, are you?”

  “Eh?” He couldn’t fathom why Des would think that. “Oh, this is to raise funds for another project. Not to pay a bunch of bloody lawyers! And I want you to get a report together on steel manufacturing in the UK.”

  “It’s been in decline for decades, sir. Amir couldn’t see the point of shoring it up here when he could make more profit elsewhere.”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, but Amir was an arsehole. I want you to give me a report of what it is now, what it used to be, and what the capacity for UK production could be if there was sufficient investment. I’m not bothered about profits. Just tell me how much it would cost to get it working to full capacity again.”

  Des fidgeted, picked up a couple of the wallets, and tidied them before setting them back down again. “Sir, I know I’m just your PA, but I really think you need to speak to your CFO about all this first. The global demand for steel is falling, now China is slowing down. The numbers just aren’t adding up and you could go bankrupt if you’re not careful and—”

  “Des,” Sam held up his hand. “It’s going to be okay.” He knew that once the worlds were restored, the demand for iron would go through the roof. He needed to get the industry in the best shape he could before then, and bringing as much of that production home felt good. “There’s more to all this than just making money. And anyway, I’m just talking about selling stuff I don’t even use. I don’t need it. I’m not interested in swanking about, playing at being rich. Not when there’s more important stuff to be done. Leave the reports with me, I’ll read it all.”

  Des lingered, as if he had more on his mind. He made it to the door before saying, “Mr Ferran, I’m really proud to work for someone like you. Someone who genuinely cares. But I can’t help feeling that you’re not taking Copper and the others seriously enough.”

  “It’s all going to be okay, Des. Really. Go find that stuff out for me. Okay?”

  A text from Cathy came through as Des left and Sam opened it.

  Sam, I want to go and shut down the Agency. Do you have a couple of buses and drivers that could help Max and me?

  He grinned at the message and typed a reply back.

  I’m on it.

  17

  Max could hear the bus driver’s snore from where he stood, at least five metres away from the vehicle, even with the wind whipping around him. The driver of the second bus looked asleep too, headphones in his ears, utterly disinterested in why they’d been sent to a remote rural location near Stirling at zero notice. The men had been told they were going to rescue some people being illegally trafficked. It was the same cover story used for those rescued from the asylum, so they accepted it without question.

  It was almost midnight. The gargoyle was still curled up in the van Sam’s PA had hired for them and Max had got out to walk around in an effort to keep his leg from getting too stiff. Cathy was due any minute. He’d brought all of the tools at his disposal with him, including a crate full of hastily made sandwiches and drinks that Mrs M had insisted they take as soon as she heard there might be people brought back with them.

  Cathy had insisted on introducing them before she’d left for Bath, even the gargoyle, despite his reservations. Mrs M hadn’t reacted like most people would at the sight of an animated gargoyle. She’d just asked if it was housetrained and when she was certain it wouldn’t “pee on the carpets,” she’d been very welcoming to them both. After the van was loaded up, Mrs M had pressed a small box into his hand, given the gargoyle a flask to carry, and pecked Max on the cheek. “Something to keep you goin’, pet,” she’d said. “I’ll make sure all the guest bedrooms are made up and that the hotel is ready for people. What must they think, eh? All these strange people turning up, paid for by Mr Ferran. They must think he’s involved in something right dodgy.” The box had contained a cheese sandwich and two pork pies. Now only crumbs remained. The tea had kept him warm enough, but now the cold was starting to bite.

  There was a low rumble in the distance and the gargoyle’s head popped up inside the van, its ears swivelling to follow the noise. A car. Max checked that everything he might need was in place as the car Cathy had borrowed from Sam came up the hill and parked.

  “Hi,” she said. “Everything’s ready, then?”

  Max nodded. “We need to make a plan.”

  She came and sat in the van with him, reaching back to scratch the gargoyle behind the ears. “I’ve had a hell of a day. Max, do you have anything that would be able to detect whether something has been forged?”

  “I can detect if Fae magic has been used to commit a forgery,” Max replied. “But not if it was carried out by a person with the correct mundane skills.”

  “I reckon magic would have been used,” she said. “I know you’re not part of a Bath Chapter any more, but would you still be willing to help me and my brother?”

  “Arbiters aren’t permitted to help puppets unless it involves an innocent.”

  “Oh, come on, Max. You’ve left all that behind now. If George Iris gets away with this, I reckon a lot of innocents in Bath are going to be at risk.”

  “George Iris?” the gargoyle snarled. “What’s that pond scum done now?”

  “Stole my brother’s inheritance and used it to declare himself Duke of Aquae Sulis.”

  “That bloody—”

  “We will help you,” Max said, knowing the gargoyle would only get louder unless he agreed. He was prepared to take the risk in returning to Aquae Sulis. He doubted Rupert would be anywhere near Bath, or its reflection, after what he’d done to Kay.

 
“I’ll help nail George Iris to a wall. Any time,” the gargoyle added.

  Cathy grinned. “Good. When we’re done here, we’ll make plans.” She peered out into the darkness. “So where is this place, anyway?”

  “The Agency’s building only exists in the Nether,” Max said. “The foundations are present in Mundanus, about a yard beneath the grass over there. That’s all. I don’t know how the magic is worked to create the building without a mundane anchor, but I am sure it has something to do with the people I saw in the basement.”

  “There were models of the building and they were staring at them in a really creepy way,” the gargoyle said. “It was horrible.”

  “Sounds bizarre,” Cathy said. “I don’t see how that could be done with just sorcerous magic. But then, I’m not an expert. Yet.”

  “How much did that Sorceress teach you?” the gargoyle asked.

  “Not nearly enough,” Cathy said. “I can protect myself and I know some basics.” The gargoyle’s throat rumbled. “What is it?” Cathy asked.

  “The Sorceress is teaching you her special hybrid magic?” When she nodded, the gargoyle said, “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that a woman who went to all that trouble to kill all the other Sorcerers seems perfectly happy to make a new one?”

  Max could see the thought hadn’t even occurred to Cathy. “Can we deal with one really frightening thing at a time, please?”

  “After this is done,” Max said, “we need to think carefully about your involvement with the Sorceress. We don’t know what her agenda is.”

  “Rescue first,” Cathy said, pulling on the door handle. “Difficult conversation second. But I’ll tell you this now: you’re not going to stop me from educating myself. If we want to make sure that Beatrice isn’t pulling the wool over our eyes, we need to understand what she’s doing and the only way to know that is for me to learn more sorcery. Now, what’s in the rest of the building?”

  “A very large room which serves as an office with multiple desks is on the ground floor,” Max said. “Lots of filing cabinets in there, which we should keep. That’s why we brought this van. Even though I’m not part of a Chapter any more, that may change, and information on the puppets is critical.”