‘Yes.’
‘The necklace that you said the man Pitch recognised. It was an amulet, yes?’
Jenny nodded.
‘Do you have it?’
‘No, Rayker does. He thought it might help him discover more about the man.’
‘Was it a blue disc set in a gold rim with a small red piece of amber in the middle?’ Frida asked.
‘I didn’t see it closely, but it was something like that.’ Jenny paused. ‘You knew him, didn’t you?’
Frida stood mute for several seconds before speaking. When she did, her voice wavered.
‘Yes. He was my father.’
A pit opened in Jenny’s stomach. Though Horn had tried to kill either her or Antrobus – or both – she regretted his death more deeply, differently, than she regretted Nate’s. That regret took on a sharp edge in the presence of Horn’s daughter.
Frida turned away from the pain in Jenny’s face. She had her own to deal with. ‘I don’t blame you or Rayker or anyone else,’ she said. ‘What my father tried to do was wrong. And you said he was the one who tried to kill Antrobus in Queerwood.’ She sat on the bed and put her face in her hands. Emily sat on her own bed and looked helplessly from Frida to Jenny.
‘None of this makes sense to me. My father left the palace guard because of me. My mother was from Vale, and though she and my father never married, he loved her. I know he did. I can remember seeing him with her. He had been a soldier in Skaya, the biggest city in the north. He met my mother when he was in Vale escorting some officials from Skaya. He wanted to be with her, so he left Skaya behind and joined the palace guard here. I was born a year later. But when I was eight, my mother died. He had to hire a nurse to look after me and he always wanted the best for me. More than I wanted for myself. His wage at the palace wasn’t enough to pay for all that, so he left. He never told me what he was doing. He’d say that he was an adventurer, travelling the world, finding treasure and fighting monsters.’ Her smile was wry, tolerant and loving. ‘They were never very big treasures.
‘I lived the life of a rich young girl, with her own nurse and housekeeper and maid. Then, six months ago, he said we were going away. We were going to go to Skaya and then travel the great cities of the world. Over the next few months we sold our house and possessions. We would buy new ones, he said. Two months ago, he told me that there was just one last adventure he had to undertake, and then we’d go. So, I came here to be a lodger while I waited for him.’
Frida was crying now, the tears running freely down her cheeks. Jenny sat next to her on the bed and took her hand.
‘I should have asked what he did,’ Frida sobbed. ‘I should have insisted. But I never wanted to tarnish the time we had together with questions.’
‘What will you do now, Frida?’ asked Emily.
‘I’m not sure. I have some of my father’s money, but I don’t know what he did with the rest. I’m not beautiful, like you two. I’m not clever. And I know I’m weak. I laughed at Jenny with the others because it was easier than being ignored and ridiculed by them. And I never had the courage to ask my father what he did, though I guess I knew it was something like this. I cannot make myself beautiful and I cannot make myself clever but I can make myself strong and that is what l’ll do.’
She looked at both of them with pleading, tear-filled eyes. ‘I’m sorry to tell you all this. I didn’t mean to. But I have something to ask. Two things, really. First, I would very much like to have my father’s necklace. If you could ask Rayker, when he’s finished with it?’
Jenny nodded.
‘I’d also like to know who paid my father to do what he did. When you find out, will you tell me?’
‘We will, Frida. I promise,’ Jenny assured her.
‘Thank you. I don’t blame anyone for his death except my father. Somehow, though, it feels like it will make it better if those who paid him are punished. I can’t explain it. But I have spent all my life thinking my father was a good man and now I find he wasn’t.’
Jenny hugged her and said, ‘Frida, my father once told me that people can make bad choices out of good decisions. Your father decided to live his life for your future. That was a good decision. That was the decision of a good man. But he chose the wrong way to do it. If it helps, Pitch said your father was a good soldier, a good man to have around.’
Frida wiped her eyes and stood.
‘You have both been very kind. Thank you,’ she said. She went to the door and opened it. She paused before leaving and turned to Jenny. ‘I’m ashamed of my behaviour towards you. I don’t ask you to forgive me. I just want you to know.’
Frida stepped into the corridor.
‘Frida, wait!’ called Jenny, running after her. ‘Did your father ever mention anything about his work? Did he mention any names? Even of friends?’
The young woman shook her head. ‘All he ever told were tales of great adventures. I knew they weren’t true but I enjoyed listening to him. I don’t think he ever mentioned any names.’
Frida returned to her own room, taking her grief with her, except for that portion Jenny and Emily had taken for themselves. The two friends sat silent and thoughtful for a few minutes after she had gone. Then Jenny sprang up. She had made a decision. She was going to need help and Emily would have to be it. So she had to be told about everything.
When Jenny had finished telling her about the famine and Morien and the astrolabe and what the Duke and the chancellor had said, Emily looked at her and said,‘Well, I’m glad I had breakfast before you told me that lot. So what do we do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Jenny. ‘Master Antrobus told me the next two days were mine to do as I please, though he’d like to see me tonight – you’ll come with me, I hope. He’s spending the day with the chancellor, discussing what to do next with Cleve. But I can’t just do nothing for two days!’ She sighed. ‘As I see it, we have two problems: the famine and Morien’s book. Those behind either one could have hired Horn and the others to kill Antrobus. We have no idea which. And then ...’ Jenny paused; was she just making it all more complicated?
‘Then what?’
‘Well, what if both things are connected? It’s a bit coincidental, don’t you think?’
Truth to tell, Emily didn’t know what to think. But now she was a player in the drama she wasn’t going to quit the stage. Whatever Jenny planned, Emily would be right there with her. A thought came to her.
‘Don’t you think we ought to tell Rayker about Frida? After all, he said his best chance was to track down Horn’s accomplice. It might give him another place to start.’
‘Good idea,’ said Jenny. ‘Let’s go find Rayker. We’ll get my book later.’ She started for the door, then stopped. ‘I have no idea where to find Rayker.’
‘That’s the way he likes it,’ Emily said. ‘Fortunately, I do.’
*
As they left Rumpkin’s, Jenny noticed one of the men from the previous night – Crook’s his name, she thought – standing near the house. She smiled at him and he gave a nod and half-smile in return. He followed at a discreet distance and Jenny felt better for his presence.
Rayker lived at the palace, in a narrow, two-storey bluestone house tucked away in a corner of a deserted courtyard, not far from the barracks. From the outside, it looked neat and tidy, though bare. There were no window boxes with flowers, or any other decoration, just a front door and two arched windows with lead-lined panes. Jenny knocked but there was no answer. She knocked again, and turned the door handle, but not a sound came from the house.
‘We should leave a message for him,’ Jenny said.
‘We passed a guard post. He might have a quill,’ Emily suggested.
‘Wot do I look like – a clerk?’ said the young soldier on duty when they asked for a quill and paper. ‘’Spose you’ll ask me to write it fer yer ’n all.’
Emily doubted he knew how, but she smiled prettily and the guard rifled through a small drawer in a very ricketty tabl
e and finally came up triumphant. In one hand he held a rather bedraggled pen, of poor quality, made from a turkey feather rather than goose and the nib was blunt with use. In the other was a cheap tiny clay pot with a cork stopper. He handed them to Jenny without looking at her, then turned his attention to Emily and smiled. It was not as pretty as the coquettish smile he had received from her, but Emily was pleased enough with it.
‘’Ere, wot’s a pretty little lass like you doin’ round this part o’ the palace?’ he asked. ‘Like soldiers, do yer?’ He stood close enough to reach past Emily’s shoulder and rest his hand against the wall.
‘Excuse me,’ said Jenny. ‘Do you have a penknife? The nib needs sharpening.’
Without taking his attention from Emily – who found she rather liked the attention; after all, he was young, passably good-looking and tall – he reached into his pocket, took out a small knife and handed it to Jenny. Then he renewed his efforts to become acquainted with Emily. They chatted very amiably while Jenny sharpened the quill.
‘Excuse me,’ said Jenny again. ‘Do you have a piece of paper?’
‘Ain’t,’ said the guard not turning round. ‘Ya know yer got eyes like moonstones? Never seen such beau’i’ful eyes in all me life.’’
Emily batted her eyelids and looked deep into his eyes. She decided then and there that she was very partial to brown eyes.
‘Not even a scrap?’ persisted Jenny.
Thinking only of brown eyes and a strong broad chest, Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Quickly, Jenny dipped the quill nib in the ink, then scratched out ‘I have information about Horn that might be useful. Jenny Swift.’ She put the knife and quill on the desk and blew on the ink. She opened her mouth to tell Emily to come then shut it again as she saw Emily fingering the trim of the soldier’s tunic as he whispered in her ear. Shaking her head, she ran from the post and back to Rayker’s. Crook, she noticed, had stationed himself at the entrance to the courtyard where he could see everyone who came and went. She slid the paper under the door, and got back to the post just in time to hear the soldier ask, ‘So wot’s the name o’ this friend of yourn you come ta see?’
‘Rayker,’ Jenny answered for her friend. ‘He’s a very particular friend of Mistress Trickett’s. And that’s Mistress Trickett you have trapped against the wall.’
The effect on the poor young soldier was startling. He jerked back, stumbling over his own feet and almost falling over.
‘I was only bein’ friendly! Just tryin’ ta help! I didn’t mean nuthin’!’ He looked anxiously at the two young women. ‘No need ta say anythin’ to Rayker!’
‘I shall tell him how helpful you’ve been,’ said Jenny, adding rather archly, ‘and I shall tell him that Mistress Trickett behaved like a perfect lady! Come on, Emily.’
Emily laughed and smiled farewell as she followed Jenny from the post.
‘He was very nice,’ said Emily. ‘Did you notice his eyes? Brown, like a fawn’s eyes.’
‘I noticed he had two, which is common, and for a guard, very handy,’ replied Jenny in exasperation.
‘There wasn’t any harm in it.’
‘No harm? How can you flirt with a strange soldier like that?’ She didn’t know quite why she felt so annoyed. Actually, she rather envied Emily’s ease with men.
‘We got what we needed, didn’t we?’ Emily said. Her eyes widened and she stopped dead. She patted her pocket and thrust her hand inside.
‘That piece of paper!’ she cried. ‘That was the letter to John! I have to go back and get it!’ A look of horror crossed her face. ‘Rayker will read it! Jenny, we have to get it!’
‘I slipped it under the door. The house is locked. We can’t get it,’ Jenny said. She did feel sorry for Emily but she also couldn’t help finding it a little amusing. ‘I’m sure Rayker is a gentleman. As soon as he reads “My darling John,” he’ll stop reading.’
‘It doesn’t say any such thing!’ said Emily angrily. ‘Jenny Swift, you’re not taking this seriously. If Rayker shows it to my father I’ll be ordered home. He’ll say I won’t be allowed back in Vale until I learn how a lady should behave!’ She stamped off back towards Rayker’s house.
Jenny ran after her and caught her arm. ‘Emily, we don’t know when Rayker will be back. He might be gone for days. You can’t camp at his door until he returns!’
Tears of frustration filled Emily’s eyes. ‘Blast you and your notes!’ she said. ‘It’s all your fault!’
‘If you hadn’t been flirting with that soldier you wouldn’t have given me that piece of paper! It isn’t my fault you melt each time a man smiles at you,’ retorted Jenny.
‘I was trying to get him to help, that’s all! You’re ungrateful.’
Jenny’s anger disappeared at the sight of tears starting to run down Emily’s cheeks.
‘I’m not ungrateful, Emily. I’m sorry you gave me that piece of paper and that now Rayker has it. Honestly. But there’s nothing we can do. I’m sure Rayker won’t read it. He’ll probably just read what I wrote then toss it away,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, too. I know it’s my fault,’ Emily said. ‘I don’t really flirt, Jenny. At least, I don’t mean anything by it. It just makes me feel good to have people like me. All I can ever remember my parents telling me is that I’m pretty. They never said I was clever or imaginative or even nice. And being pretty isn’t good for anything except making boys smile and wink.’
‘Come on, let’s forget about it and go to the workroom,’ Jenny cajoled. ‘And you know,’ she teased, ‘I don’t think you’re pretty at all.’
Emily laughed, and they walked arm and arm across the palace cobblestones. The trouble was, Jenny thought Emily was very beautiful.
Still followed by the dutiful Crook, they walked the short distance to Antrobus’s workplace. Jenny took out the key and unlocked the heavy door. A momentary pang of fear went through her, but she held it down and opened the door. They stood in the gloom and the acrid air, neither wanting to go in further. Then Jenny steeled herself and went to one of the work tables and got a taper and flint.
The light lessened the gloom but did nothing for their imaginations. A few paces into the room, Emily stopped. She stared at the mark on the floor made by the vitriol that killed Nate. Jenny could see the shudder that ran through Emily. She didn’t blame her. Her own spine still tingled. She tugged her friend away from the stained and pitted stone.
The book was on the floor near the shelves where she had dropped it. Someone had cleaned up the glass from the broken bottle of aqua fortis, but they’d missed the book. Jenny picked it up. Holding it made her feel better. It reminded her that she had a job to do; Antrobus, the Duke and the chancellor were expecting her to help combat the attack on Vale’s crops. So far, she’d done nothing at all. She would change that.
Emily did as Jenny had done, roaming the laboratory and examining the work tables and the shelves. She expressed amazement at the globes and maps, for it brought home that no matter how important Vale was, it was only a small part of a very great world. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the liquids and potions in jars, and she uttered a cry of disgust at the limbs, bodies and organs floating in clear jars.
‘Do you really want to work with all this?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Jenny. And, much to her surprise, she realised that she meant it. She really did want to work with everything in the room. Not just the things for healing but everything: the minerals, the liquids, the powders, the dissected bodies, the charts of the stars and the maps of the earth. She didn’t know why, but she felt part of it all. She wanted to know why each is as it is and what makes each part of the whole.
‘Yes,’ she said again. ‘I really do.’
Chapter 11
Jack-O’-Lantern
Before heading back to Rumpkin’s they stopped at a small shop and bought a hot mutton pie each for lunch, plus one for Crook, which he accepted with hungry gratitude. Jenny’s own stomach
had rumbled its rebellion at the lack of food and she had regretted the uneaten porridge from breakfast. The pie crust was golden and flaky and the chunks of mutton swam in steaming gravy. There were some dishes from Vale that her mother had never mastered and meat pies – for which Vale was famous – was one. Jenny savoured the warm comforting taste and didn’t mind when she noticed a small brown stain on her tunic.
They went straight to their room when they got back to Rumpkin’s. Slipped under the door was a message for Emily from the palace. Unlike Jenny, she was not to be an apprentice. Positions within the chamberlain’s office were conferred as much as tokens of favour as signs of aptitude. Emily was to be a companion to a twelve-year-old girl called Beth, the daughter of the Duke’s uncle, David. David had married late, two years after he had returned from his travels. At nearly thirty-five years of age, he was considered very old to be a bachelor. He took for his wife a very mild, pleasant woman more than ten years his junior and from all accounts it was a happy marriage.
David still spent much of his time travelling but rather than seeking adventure and new lands, he acted as an ambassador for his nephew, Emeric. He was well liked and respected, and considered an open and honest man whose word could be trusted. He was due the title Earl, but he preferred to be called simply David.
Unfortunately, his long absences meant that his wife, Margaret, was left with the burden of raising their daughter on her own. Now, it should be made clear that for a member of the palace, that was a very different burden to what a woman in a small village cottage would bear. Margaret had staff to look after every need and whim of young Beth; the only task left solely to her was to love her daughter, and this task she took on with joy and a great deal of dedication. Beth was completely spoiled; she received everything she wanted and even more that she had no inkling she wanted. The price she paid for this was that her mother was obsessively protective. By the time any child is twelve, all the indulgence in the world is too high a price to pay for such smothering. And deep down, Beth was a normal twelve-year-old, who would have gladly traded quite a lot of pampering for quite a little freedom.
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