Something in me tightened, about to split.
Calm, Mira. Be calm. You’re not normally frustrated by Carson. He’s harmless.
“I found out about a cut-through that takes us more or less to Pharo, right here from London. Isn’t that crazy? How lucky is that?”
Oh, but he was so insistent.
“Getting a drink,” said Heidi.
“Me too,” I said, and rose.
Carson, perfectly oblivious, pushed to his feet too. The manbag swung at his side, and suddenly I felt like maybe the ghost of Heidi in the timeline where she had been killed by the marachti had breathed itself inside of me, because he annoyed me.
No, Carson was not annoying me. I had slept poorly.
“It’s not far from where we came back through last night, actually,” Carson was saying. “Toward the London Eye. It might be a bit busy that way, but I figure it’s going to make cutting through a bit easier, because we can blend in, you know?”
Okay, maybe that was Carson ticking me off.
Heidi must’ve seen the rising irritation on my face, because she gave a sage nod. She whispered, “I’ve resisted going nuclear on him the last hour. Mostly because I’m tired.”
“Let me grab the journal and I’ll show you,” Carson said from behind, ducking into the library shelves. “I’ll be with you guys in just a moment!”
“I’m not sure I can hold out much longer,” Heidi confessed when he’d gone.
“Hang on!” Carson called.
Heidi groaned. “I know I told him to be an optimist, but this? Really?”
“You brought this upon us,” I said. “For shame, Heidi Luo.”
“You’d think he’d have given up by now—two records to confirm what we already told him. And yet he’s just as jolly as ever, utterly convinced he’s going to prove every Seeker in history wrong.” She shook her head. “Maybe we should shoot him.”
“And get a gun where, exactly?”
“Benson probably has something.”
Benson probably had a whole lot of things that could hurt, maim, or destroy Carson in more ways than I would care to ever imagine. I didn’t plan on taking Heidi up on her offer though. The coup it would cost, for a start …
In the kitchen, I turned on the hot tap, and waited for it to start steaming.
“You’re making tea like that?” Heidi asked.
“Coffee.” I emptied a sachet of instant grounds into a mug I fished out from one of the largely bare cupboards. Hadn’t bought it; we’d taken a trip into a café a couple of weeks ago, a grotty little place that was far too cramped, and I’d pilfered as many of these as I could feasibly get away with. Didn’t think I’d been successful; the café owner had given me a dark look as he came to settle our meager bill, and we made a point of scarpering before he’d even left the table.
“And in case you haven’t noticed,” I pointed out, “we don’t have a kettle. So hot tap it is.”
“There’s a gas oven right there,” said Heidi. “A … weird-looking one from whatever world Lady Hauk’s butlers fell out of. But it’s an oven. Heat up water in a pan.”
“Too lazy for that.”
“Too gross.”
“Eh.” I shrugged, and filled the mug almost to the brim. I stirred, sipped. “It’s fine. Try some.”
“I’ll pass.”
Another shrug, another sip, longer this time. Bitter, and cheap. But it had been so long that I had little to compare to, so the taste was perfectly acceptable. If my luck held, I’d never be spoiled by the taste of a proper coffee … which didn’t really seem much like luck at all.
“Order of Apdau, then,” I said. “What’s the deal there, do you think?”
“Seems pretty straightforward to me. They want the Chalice Gloria.”
“And for me to stop seeking,” I muttered.
“Yeah …” Heidi stretched the word, glancing at me sidelong. “Bit of a strange request, don’t you think?”
“We’re talking about a group of men—”
“Sexist.”
“—or women—”
“Better.”
“—who are quite content to run around the capital brandishing knives and trying to kill the three of us in broad daylight. They’re not exactly the most grounded people, you know?”
“They’d disagree with that,” Heidi responded.
“And I’d tell them where to stick it.” I swallowed the last of the mug in two great gulps, savoring the burn as it went down my throat. Then I dropped the mug in the sink, and ran water into it. It filled, brown and murky but growing fainter as the water overflowed.
“Who’s paying this water bill?” I asked idly. “Cos I never set it up. And no one’s ever come around to read the meter.”
“Great question,” said Heidi. “I’ll add it to the list of incredibly important things we need to get to the bottom of. Next up: how is toothpaste made?”
I ignored her. “The Order shouldn’t have known we’d be there,” I said. “Out in the Felldawn. How would they? We didn’t even know we’d be there until the Mirrish turned up as Carson raided the hall of records for his little—”
“I found the book!” Carson cried, appearing in the doorway like a phantasm. He brandished a small tome bound in leather. It looked barely held together, and the way he waved it, it wouldn’t be long before the binding gave up completely. “The writer noted down the cut-through in here—”
“Where’s Bub?” I said suddenly. “Is he still not back?”
“Err, I dunno,” said Carson. “Anyway, let me just find …”
Heidi stuck her hand over Carson’s, preventing him from turning any more pages. “Dude. Take a breather for a second.”
“But the cut-through to Pharo is written down right here—”
“Can we finish the conversation we were having first?”
Carson blinked. “But we’ve been talking about Ostiagard all morning.”
“Right. But now Mira and I are talking about our run-in with the Order of Apdau yesterday.”
“But that’s done now. We got away. Didn’t we?”
“We got away,” I said, “but it doesn’t mean the Order aren’t still out there.”
“So we just evade them again.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is. You just cut an opening—or I can make one, and send them—”
“First of all, you’re not making any openings until we can figure out why yours freak out as much as they do,” said Heidi. “And secondly, when we do evade them, they can follow us. They followed us out of the Felldawn, remember? They can follow again.”
“They didn’t follow us into the jungle yesterday.”
“Well, obviously Mira’s escape strategy flummoxed them.”
“Evading them is all well and good,” I said, as gently as I could, “but we can’t do it forever. And we still need to come to answer the question of how exactly they knew we’d be on the Spurn Wyle.”
Carson’s mouth turned down. He shrugged. “Maybe one of the lizards told them?”
I held back the eye twitch that was determined to get a foothold.
“So anyway, Pharo—”
“Carson,” I cut across, and my voice was sharp enough to silence him. His mouth remained open, and a glimmer of hesitance flickered in his eyes. “What we’ve been trying to explain—what we were discussing yesterday in the jungle, in fact—is that it’s quite worrying that the Order of Apdau knew where we were without any obvious means of knowing.”
Before he could jump back in with a “Maybe the Mirrish,” I continued, taking great effort—great effort—to tone myself down a notch, and retain some of that gentleness I employed so well.
“The fact that the Order could be out there right now worries me. It worries me, Carson. We’ve run into them in London before. We know that they’re willing to make a scene to achieve their goals; they’ve done it numerous times. And there are more of them than ever now. Remember the struggle
dealing with just three, back in Russell Square? At last count we were facing off against sixteen. Sixteen. That’s assuming none of the guys we banished managed to make their way back through again.
“They could be anywhere in London,” I said. “Anywhere at all. And that really worries me.”
A pause. Heidi and I waited for Carson’s answer. Her eyebrows had drifted up.
“So … you’re saying we can’t go out anymore,” Carson finally said.
“I’m not saying that. Just that it worries me.”
“We have to go out sometime though,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “For, like, a trip to Benson’s. Or maybe a burrito.” He shrugged, looking away from me.
The little screw that had tightened in me got tighter. Whatever was containing it threatened to split.
Though I held my reaction back, Carson’s dig had stung. It wasn’t a low blow exactly—hardly much of anything, I knew rationally—but a jibe like that was something I expected of Heidi. For Carson to go out of his way to put me on the back foot, make me self-conscious … I didn’t like that. Didn’t like that at all.
He took a sideways glance at me. Surreptitious, innocent … but trying to work out if he’d got to me or not.
Underhanded arse.
Temptation beckoned: whip out Decidian’s Spear, and give him a good jab with it; see if that got under his skin.
I tamped it down.
“Fine,” I conceded, anxious to avoid a total blow-out. “Uncomfortable though it makes me, you are right: we can’t hide out here forever. Plus we have no idea about what the Order want anyway, and sitting here stewing for the next six months isn’t going to change that.”
“We do know what they want,” Heidi muttered.
“We don’t know why, or how they found us again in the first place.”
“That’s not so bad. We only don’t know the answers to the most important questions on our list. That’s perfectly fine.”
“Absolutely. We’ll Google that toothpaste one later though.”
Carson frowned. “Toothpaste …?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Right. Tell us where we’re going then, hm? I expect we’re doing this right now.”
“Uh … yeah? I mean, if that’s okay?” He looked very hopeful that it would be okay. It was the sort of look a child would use to make a parent feel very guilty for saying no.
“It’s fine,” I sighed. “Off to Pharo it is. What do we need to know?”
He launched straight in—and I tried my best to nod, and not look too grim as I thought of the many, many ways this next excursion could go horribly wrong.
18
London streets were always busy. But London streets in June were positively heaving.
We stepped out beside Tortilla and almost fell into a gaggle of passers-by. Fortunately they were talking merrily amongst themselves (they were northern, going by their accents, and seemed to be here in London for a day out before a concert this evening). Fortunately-ish, their conversation and distraction was enough that we did not receive comment, although two of the waiflike girls we almost collided with gave us particularly dirty looks not at all dampened by the oversized shades obscuring a full third of their faces.
“She was cute,” Carson observed as they moved away.
Heidi glared at him.
“Lead the way,” I told Carson. “Quick. Foot traffic is still traffic; you need to keep moving so everything continues to progress.”
“Is that how it works?”
“No,” Heidi snapped. “You get in a car and then idle in the middle of the road until your destination comes to you.” She shook her head, pout tight enough you could remove a bottlecap with her lips. “Did the pretty girl rattle loose the only brain cell you’ve actually got?”
Before this exchange could get particularly fiery, I stepped between Carson and Heidi and tugged them into motion. “Onward, friends. Carson, do you want to lead the way?”
“Um, I can try, but I don’t think—”
“Mira Brand!”
The voice rung out from behind, a deep boom that seemed to cut over the rest of the noise on the streets. For a moment it even seemed to overpower the engines of cars shuttling past.
I turned back toward Tortilla, expecting—hoping—to see Clayton—
And was instead presented with my older brother.
I deflated like a bouncy castle whose pump had been turned off.
“Oh. It’s you.”
He strolled up, a smile on his face that I supposed he thought was serene, but that I thought was so smug that I wanted to wipe right off. Preferably with my hand. Ideally a fist.
“Morning,” he said, casual as anything.
I ignored his greeting. “Starting to feel like you’re following me.”
He rolled an easy shrug, unperturbed. “Is it a crime to happen to be in the area where you also happen to be?”
“I wish it was,” I ground out. “Maybe then you could be as disappointing to Mum and Dad as I am. Even if not, it’d be nice to even the score on number of calls they’ve had to get their kids out of jail.”
Carson was ogling Emmanuel. “Who’s this?” he asked.
“No one,” I said quickly.
But Emmanuel was un-rebuffable (is that a word? It’s totally a word), and took this as invitation to come join our trio. Grinning happily, he said, “Go on, Mira. Introduce us.”
“I’d rather die.”
He tutted. “Is that any way to talk about your brother?”
Carson gasped. “Brother?” His eyes bulged. “Mira, is this—?”
“Emmanuel Brand.” He stepped forward and extended a hand, fingers perfectly straight and together. He might’ve been crafted in a lab, the action was so perfect. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m sure Mira has told you all about me, Mister …?”
“Carson,” he said enthusiastically—damn, how I wanted to kick him. “Carson Yates.” He shook, and though Emmanuel kept it brief and professional, I could see the energy in Carson’s arm. He was pumping that fist like the world would end if he didn’t. And that made me want to kick him even more.
“Mr. Brand!” he cooed.
“Please, call me Emmanuel.”
“I can’t believe—this is an honor, a real honor. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Emmanuel’s eyes danced at me. “Oh?”
Carson just carried on gushing. “You’re famous in the world of Seekers! Everyone knows Emmanuel Brand. I mean, I haven’t been involved in this world for long—but I know your name, know about your accomplishments.”
I muttered in a low voice to Heidi, “I’m famous in the world of Seekers, and he’s never fallen over me like that.”
“Do you want him to?” she countered.
Well, it would be nice after this display of fanboy fawning. Make me feel a whole lot better about having the glorious Emmanuel Brand as my brother.
Heidi read my face, because in a lower voice she said, “It’s Carson. You don’t want your friends cooing madly for you like that. Now, burrito boy on the other hand …”
Hrm. “Point taken. And his name is Clayton.”
Carson hadn’t finished singing Emmanuel’s praises, and Emmanuel was all too happy to soak them up. But in that way he was so infuriatingly good at, Emmanuel interrupted in a natural manner that didn’t remotely sound as though he was cutting Carson off just as he was getting started.
“So, what is it you guys are up to?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.
I said, “Nothing” at the same time as Heidi, a perfect chorus. And why wouldn’t we? To spout off that we were seeking the lost treasure of Ostiagard was absolute madness. We’d make ourselves laughing stocks—and being a laughing stock to my brother, apple of my parents’ eye, was the very last thing I wanted.
And so, of course, Carson said at the same moment, “We’re after the lost treasure of Ostiagard.”
That was it. I was really going to kick him now. Just boot him right
the way over the Strand.
Emmanuel grinned back at Carson—and then burst out laughing.
Carson’s face dropped.
“Good one,” Emmanuel said. “Great, really.” He clapped Carson on the shoulder. “But seriously, bruv. What is it you guys are up to?”
“We’re … looking for the lost treasure of Ostiagard,” Carson said.
Emmanuel turned to me. “Explain.”
First instinct was to tell him I refused to explain anything to him. Second instinct was that I should, no matter how unhappy it made me ceding this piece of information to the golden child, because if I didn’t, then we’d all look like bigger fools than we already were for carrying on this wild goose chase in the first place. And Emmanuel would share that around, and before long Mira Brand, who showed such promise after claiming the Chalice Gloria of her own, would be a laughingstock in the Seeker world.
Teeth gritted, I said, “Carson has found a lead about Ostiagard’s treasure. In Pharo.” Damn, but that hurt to say.
Emmanuel’s amusement wasn’t touched. “Yeah? How’d you find that, big guy?”
“A journal—” Carson began. I elbowed him, and he choked on whatever he’d been about to say next. The way he’d been spewing everything that came to mind so far, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he went on to say, “in Mira’s library hideout, which you get to by cutting a gateway on that wall just there behind us.”
Mental note: if Carson ever does that, find out if orcs eat people. If so, feed the Yank to Bub.
Just as soon as he turned back up from wherever it was he’d vanished off to.
Shaking that thought out of my already crowded head——I took the reins.
“Some Seeker’s journal. And it’s barely anything. We’re just going to go scope it out.” Looking to my comrades: “And on that note, shall we just …?”
“I’ll come with,” said Emmanuel casually.
The words died in my throat.
I turned manic eyes to him.
“Can’t be leaving my baby sister to fend for herself. And I know Pharo well. Found a swanky little piece of treasure there last year, in fact.” He stretched arms wide, hands behind his head, leaning back. A girl passing, probably not much older than me, almost took the elbow to the face. She turned to glare at the skinny man in a slim-fitting checked shirt who’d almost brained her. Emmanuel flashed a crooked smile, and her irritation melted. A smile back, a momentary glance at the three of us—wondering what this unsightly gaggle was doing with someone like him, if the droop of her face was anything to go by—and then she was past.
The City of Lies Page 12