The Bartered Brides (Elemental Masters)

by Mercedes Lackey

Nan gathered the child into her arms. “I love you, too. I will try my best.”

  Suki sobbed on her shoulder for just about a minute, then got her composure back, and Nan let her go, handing the child her own handkerchief. Suki sniffled into it and dried her eyes. “I’m goin’ to go tell Sarah I love her now.”

  “Go do that,” Nan urged, and watched, her heart aching, as the little girl pulled herself up bravely and trotted off to find Sarah and do just that. Like Nan, Suki had seen plenty of death before she found safe harbor with the girls. Like Nan, she understood it at a very young age. So she understood, far better than most people realized, that sometimes people don’t come back from danger, no matter how badly they want to.

  On the one hand, Nan would have liked very much to be able to take that knowledge from her.

  On the other hand. . . .

  Nan sighed, and went back to her map.

  * * *

  The meeting lasted from teatime through supper and beyond, but in the end nothing substantial came of it. Other than that now Lord Alderscroft was informed, that is. In the end, even he couldn’t think of any way he could help them.

  But to say he was gobsmacked by the idea that Sarah was a Spirit Master was an understatement. In fact, he was speechless for many minutes.

  When he finally did speak it was with a rueful astonishment. “This makes complete sense,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before this. And yet—no one ever looks for Spirit Masters. They’re ridiculously rare.”

  “I wish they were correspondingly powerful,” Sarah sighed.

  “No, you don’t!” exclaimed the three other Elemental Masters in the room.

  “Think of how much more powerful the necromancer would be if they were,” Alderscroft pointed out.

  Agansing, Selim, and Karamjit were not present this time; they had been unable to think of anything they could contribute to the discussion, so instead they had tasked themselves, and their nephews, with reinforcing the protections, physical and magical, on the school and its grounds.

  “I do have a suggestion,” Alderscroft said, after a moment. “There are certain associates of the Hunting Lodge who are . . . ah . . . rough-hewn . . .”

  “You mean that since you took over the leadership, you’ve been seeking out and recruiting outside of the titled and wealthy,” Mary put in with amusement. “Although why you can offer associate membership to street thugs and ruffians but not to women does escape me.”

  Alderscroft turned a bit red, but carried on. “The point is, these young men would be very useful to Nan and Sarah, and they are likely to warn away strictly mundane trouble by their mere presence.”

  “He’s right,” Mary admitted. “Especially if you both dress as boys.”

  “I wouldn’t go—” Alderscroft began, but was interrupted by Memsa’b.

  “I think that’s a capital notion!” she enthused.

  “As do I—especially since I understand Holmes himself had been giving you girls lessons in such disguises?” Sahib put in.

  “He had,” Sarah confirmed. “And I do like that idea. We were going to go as lads anyway, but we’ll be a lot less conspicuous in a crowd of other lads, especially if they loiter along and stop to drink or smoke. And if they are magicians as well, that’s all the better.”

  Alderscroft opened his mouth—probably to object—then shut it again, looked thoughtful, and nodded reluctantly. “Dash it all, that is a good idea. I don’t like it one bit, because my sense of propriety is utterly revolted by it, but it is a capital idea. My propriety will have to reconcile itself. All right, the sooner we can get this search started, the better. John, Mary, I assume you want to be in London for this?”

  They nodded.

  “Then you’ll stay with me in my townhouse. I’ll telegraph the servants that I’m returning with guests. I assume the telegraph in the butler’s pantry is still working?”

  Memsa’b nodded. And once again Nan was struck by the fact that the very rich were so very different from her. When she needed to send a telegram, she went to the nearest post office to do so. She knew Alderscroft had wires strung to his bungalow, and it appeared he also still had them here.

  “Nan and Sarah, would you rather work from your home or mine?” he continued.

  “Yours, I think,” Nan said, after deliberating for a moment. “I’d like to keep scrutiny as far from Mrs. Horace as possible. I don’t think the necromancer has deduced we are working with John and Mary, but it is better that he not associate our address with them if he has.”

  Alderscroft nodded, and turned to the Hartons. “For now, I cannot think of any role your associates can play except to stay alert and keep the children safe.”

  “Nor can we,” Sahib agreed. “This is magic, and we are of little use to you in this.”

  “Then shall the five of us return to London tonight?” his Lordship asked. “While your hunt is safest done by daylight—”

  “Well we can do a great deal by daylight,” Nan offered. “We only need Caro’s help when we find spots that are free of spirits. Sarah can tell they’re there—or not—by day as well as by night.”

  “Only once we have those areas will we actually have anything to investigate,” Sarah agreed.

  “Good, that narrows things down a bit. Let’s return to London tonight. I’ll summon my ruffians in the morning and introduce you tomorrow evening and you can show them your plan. After that meeting, it will all be up to you.” Alderscroft looked at the both ruefully. “I don’t much care for not being in control of this, but I cannot see any other way. And it isn’t as if you four haven’t proven yourselves perfectly capable in the past.”

  Nan looked to Sarah, then they both nodded. “We’ll get the birds and our things,” said Sarah. “We’ll be ready in an hour.”

  Alderscroft smiled a little. “I may not be psychical, but I had a premonition I would need the big carriage. I brought it from London to the bungalow, and rode in it over here tonight. We can continue this discussion as we drive.”

  As they went upstairs to their rooms, and Alderscroft went to telegraph his staff—or rather, he went with John Watson who, thanks to his Army experience, knew Morse code—Sarah shook her head at Nan. “You told me we’d need to bring our lad’s clothing, and I didn’t believe you.”

  “It was a hunch,” Nan admitted. “Nothing more. But it’s not as if it was going to take up much space in our cases.”

  They parted at their rooms and packed up everything they had so recently unpacked. Neville didn’t even complain that his sleep was being interrupted. He jumped down from his perch as soon as Nan shut the latches on her case, strolled over to the open bird carrier, and settled down inside.

  “Did you know this was going to happen?” she asked him before she closed the door.

  He just opened one black eye, gave her a long look, and closed it again.

  * * *

  It was a little bit of a squeeze even in Alderscroft’s big carriage to get them all inside, but Nan didn’t think any of them minded. Thanks to his Lordship’s telegraph ahead to his servants, when they arrived just past midnight everything was in readiness. There were even improvised perches in each of the girls’ rooms, made of tobacco stands. There was one for each bird, with old newspapers spread beneath, and food and water cups where ashtrays would have been.

  Nan had never stayed overnight in Alderscroft’s townhouse before—there’d never been a need, since they already had a flat of their own here in London—and she was a little in awe of how luxurious it was. Despite the townhouse having been in his family for several generations, he must have had modern alterations made to it, as it had gaslights as well as the most up-to-date of bathrooms with hot and cold running water laid in. The room had been papered in neutral blue, gray, and white stripes, with soft carpets on the floor. She thought the furnishings were probably mahogany, and seating was upholstered to match the wallpaper. It was all very modern. There was, however, an oil lamp on t
he bedside table, so she wouldn’t have to turn off the gas then stumble to her bed in the dark. She told the maid that she wouldn’t need any assistance in getting undressed, did just that, had a brief wash, and slipped into her bed.

  Her very luxurious bed. So luxurious, in fact, that she could scarcely believe how soft the bedding was. The sheets felt like cream on her skin. She hadn’t thought she would be able to fall asleep in a strange bed, but she did, and slept soundly too.

  So soundly that she didn’t awaken until a maid tapped on the door and brought in breakfast on a tray. Breakfast! In bed! The only other time she’d had that had been in the winter when she’d gotten up long enough to poke the fires up if it had been her turn, wait for Mrs. Horace to bring up the food, make herself up a tray and scuttle back to bed to luxuriate in the warmth. She suspected on those mornings that Sarah did the same, but she was too busy eating toast while swathed to the ears in an eiderdown to check.

  Despite having associated with his Lordship for quite a long time, this was the first time she’d gotten a glimpse of what his life might be like.

  It was seductive, to tell the truth. And when the maid reappeared to take the tray again, and asked her diffidently if she needed assistance in dressing, and would she like a bath now or before dinner, it became even more seductive.

  And for one tiny moment, she felt a torrent of envy wash over her.

  But then she remembered the look on Alderscroft’s face when she’d casually stated that she and Sarah were going to disguise themselves as young men. And it came over her how much her life would be restricted if she had been born into a family like this. She knew, from books, magazines, and the society articles in the newspapers, just how confined the life of a “mere” female was in these lofty families. A girl was inconsequential when young, valuable only when between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, and thereafter, if not married, inconsequential again. And while that might be different in the families that boasted Elemental Magicians and Masters in their ranks, it wasn’t going to be that much different.

  In fact the reason that she and Sarah were useful to his Lordship was precisely because they hadn’t been brought up like that. Alderscroft saw no need to impose the rules of his class on people who were—to be honest—of a much lower class.

  I’d rather be me, she thought defiantly, then got dressed to go down and confer, at need, with Alderscroft.

  * * *

  Five young toughs clattered down the steps of the omnibus, laughing and elbowing each other. They were all attired mostly alike, with flat caps, second-or thirdhand and badly creased trousers, coats and vests, yellowed shirts, and scarves around their necks. They also wore thick, lace-up boots, the better to kick someone in the head with. They were also all wearing heavy leather belts with big metal buckles, which for most street gangs doubled as weapons.

  Most of the noise was being made by three of the five as they hopped down to the pavement. Two were smaller, slimmer, and quieter than the rest, but the first three were making so much chatter that most probably no one would notice.

  Sarah was one of the two quiet ones; Nan was the other. Sarah was quiet out of necessity, since she was concentrating on sensing ghosts. Nan was quiet to keep anyone from noticing she had a higher voice than the other three.

  Those three were Eddie, a Fire Magician, Fred, an Air Master, and George, an Air Magician. Sarah liked them immediately on meeting them; despite how they were acting now, they had been cheeky but respectful with Alderscroft, and admiring when she and Nan proved they could defend themselves. George had taken an immediate fancy to Nan, impressed with how she handled her Gurkha knives. All three of them looked pretty much alike—light brown hair, blue eyes, round faces that showed they’d suffered the pinch of hunger now and again, at least in the past. George was a bit more handsome than the other two, but all of them were decent lookers.

  “Left at the next corner,” Fred said in an undertone, as they slouched their way down the street in a group, hands thrust into pockets, caps pushed back on their heads at a jaunty angle. Fred had the map with the serpentine route they were going to take laid out over the neighborhood served by the sewer system the bodies had washed out of. They planned to weave back and forth, advancing toward the river every time they turned, until they reached the Thames. Sarah didn’t think that they’d make it all the way to the river today—but they might.

  Neville was following along overhead; Grey had her claws fastened firmly in the cloth of Sarah’s jacket shoulder. A parrot on someone’s shoulder wasn’t exactly a common sight around here, but Grey wasn’t colorful, and might be overlooked. Sarah didn’t want to take the chance that gulls, crows or jackdaws would attack Grey and hurt her before Neville could come to the rescue.

  The group wasn’t exactly moving at a brisk pace, but then, people were actually crossing to the other side of the street to avoid them, so it didn’t matter. They might be in trouble if they met with another gang, but the boys didn’t think that likely, not in daylight. And they planned to be off the street by nightfall.

  Besides, the boys all knew which gangs held which districts, and if challenged, intended to give the right name.

  Sarah didn’t have much attention to spare for the “sights.” Granted, she didn’t have to slip into the spirit world, but she did have to devote most of her attention to “looking” for the faint signs of ghosts that were all she could “see” during the daylight hours.

  Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of them. Most buildings had at least one. Usually there were several. When she concentrated, she got a sort of overlay of the spirit world onto the material one, and she could count them, since they scarcely moved during the day. It was much easier to do this than it used to be. She wondered whether Puck’s “kiss for luck” had anything to do with that.

  As far as she could tell, most ghosts were recent, the confused little shades of children that died suddenly and, for whatever reason, whether through fear or bewilderment at suddenly finding that no one could see or hear them, missed passing over to the other side. Or at least, missed passing over initially. Most of them seemed to disappear within a few days to a few months, or at least that was what she had noticed in her neighborhood, so she had the feeling these little ones often got escorted when they couldn’t find their way on their own.

  But there were plenty of older spirits here too. After all, the East End had been a terrible place to live since the 1700s, and there were plenty of people who wouldn’t cross over, knowing what their likely “welcome” would be. But of course, as the years went on, these spirits grew tattered and faded, and eventually. . . .

  Well, she actually didn’t really know what happened to them “eventually,” unless what happened was someone like her. She could open doors and trick them across the threshold—according to Alderscroft, she could force them over the threshold too, but only if she herself was in the spirit world. But when there wasn’t someone like her? She had no idea. Did they just fade and vanish? Did they lose whatever tenacious hold they had on the material plane and get pulled over?

  All things to explore another day. Right now, their presence was the marker that what she was looking for wasn’t here.

  She lost track of time as they all sauntered along, the lads occasionally calling out compliments to women they saw and laughing when the woman either hurried away or made an equally cheeky response. Shopkeepers moved into the entrances of their shops to block the gang from entering as they passed. Finally, Fred said “Left here,” and they turned a corner, walked for a while, and then—

  There it was, off to the left: an area without a single ghost in it.

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  They didn’t actually stop. They slowed until they found a good place to loiter, a building with a blank wall to lean against. Sarah and Fred did just that, while the other three stood as a screen between them and the rest of the street, talking and smoking—and drinking a little out of hip flasks. She and Fred sketched out the ro
ugh area on the map where there were no ghosts, and when she was satisfied, he gave the signal to move on again.

  She was used to doing a lot of walking, but by the time they reached the river, she was footsore, hot, and wanting a bath so badly she could hardly bear it.

  But it was about an hour till sunset, and they actually had managed to cover the entire area, finding five spots free of spirits.

  Now they walked along the embankment, heading for something else entirely—a Thames waterman with a boat big enough to ferry five, tied up at a particular spot on the bank. The tide was in, which made this possible, since there weren’t many watermen willing to risk damaging their craft on the rocky, debris-and garbage-strewn shoreline at low tide. By this time Sarah’s feet hurt so much she could hardly bear it, and shoes that had been too large at the beginning of this trek were now tight.

  The waterman, a weather-beaten, graying specimen wearing an outfit identical to theirs and a suspicious scowl, was tied up at the bottom of a set of stone stairs nearly identical to the ones they’d used to get to the river when John Watson had called up a Jenny Greenteeth. “Alderscroft sent us,” Fred called from the top of the stairs, which turned the scowl into a grudging nod.

  “Good. Git in,” the waterman replied, and they made their way carefully down the slippery, wet stairs and gingerly clambered into the boat, arranging themselves on the plank seats according to his direction. Sarah was alone in the prow when the waterman untied the boat, tossed her the rope, and skillfully began rowing upriver. Just getting off her feet nearly brought tears of relief to her eyes. Grey, who had been completely silent all this time, bent down and caressed her cheek with her beak. “Home soon,” the parrot said soothingly, as Neville flew over a roof and down to Nan’s shoulder.

  “Arrr! Pirates!” Neville said cheerfully, surprising a laugh from the waterman.

  “Yer a cheeky bugger, ain’t ye?” he called over his shoulder to where Nan was sitting behind him.

  “I’m a right old barstard,” Neville replied, making the waterman laugh harder. “Gi’ us a kiss, sweetheart!”