“You said Mrs. Whist’s cough had got worse. Take it, get whatever medicines the doctor prescribes. Bother the cost.”
“But what about you? Now that you’ve called it off, I mean.”
I should have turned away, but I couldn’t help myself. Called what off?
“Don’t worry about me.”
I glanced up to see him pressing coins into his mother’s hand, and Fanny reluctantly accepting. I pivoted back for the door, embarrassed to have listened.
As we left, Fanny kissed my cheek and asked me to come again. She also pressed a seed cake into Dee’s hands, to his wide-eyed delight. At the gate, Blackwood looked for the carriage while Magnus waited next to me. I knew I should stay out of it, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
Magnus gave me a knowing smile. “Caught us talking, didn’t you?” God, how humiliating. “Don’t worry, it would have been difficult to ignore.” He took off his hat and studied the brim. “I broke my engagement with Miss Winslow.”
My mouth nearly dropped open.
“Oh?” I couldn’t help how my voice rose in surprise. “I’m so sorry.”
“She was going to Ireland to stay out of the line of fire. Very sensible plan. I wrote to tell her not to feel bound by our engagement any longer.”
“Why?”
“My father arranged the whole thing when we were infants. He was the younger son of the family, so there was nothing for me to inherit.” He tapped his fingers against his stave. “I told Miss Winslow that we were too young to marry without love.”
“She must have been devastated.” The poor girl. But Magnus’s mouth twitched in amusement.
“Surprisingly, she wrote back in agreement. Sounded rather relieved, which I can scarcely comprehend. Who wouldn’t want an eternity with my magnificent presence?”
“Would you like the extensive list?”
The carriage arrived just as the first drops of rain began to fall. With a quick stroke of his stave, Magnus parted the rain so that it fell on either side of us. “You agree with me, don’t you? Marriage without love is an abominable fate.”
“I do.” My thoughts turned once more to Rook, and Magnus noticed my blush.
“Then I’m happy for you,” he said softly, and went to help as Blackwood’s carriage arrived.
Together, the three of us loaded the weapons. Dee joined us in time to handle the scythe. I got into the carriage, Blackwood following quickly. He closed the door with more force than was necessary.
“See you both tomorrow,” I said.
Magnus and Dee waved as the coach rattled down the street.
Blackwood watched out the window until we’d turned the corner.
“Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain he won’t chase us.” I shuffled through the weaponry papers once more. Blackwood began drumming his fingers on his knee.
“He’s canceled his engagement.” The drumming stopped. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“Yes, now you finally have a chance to snag him. Best wishes,” I muttered.
“Does that interest you?”
I looked up, exasperated. Blackwood watched me with a flat, unreadable gaze. He could give the Sphinx lessons in inscrutability.
“This interests me.” I shoved my papers under his nose. “There’s a skinless madman out there who wants us all dead. We’ve a carriage full of otherworldly weapons, and a book that’s supposed to tell us how they all work. At the moment, skinless madmen, weapons, and books are about all I’ve time for. So if Magnus wants to marry a turnip on Thursday next, I will show up for the ceremony in my best bonnet. All right?” With that, I went back to studying some incomprehensible diagram that showed the scythe’s best elevation for attack, and I bloody enjoyed it.
“I’m not sure you were clear enough.” Blackwood sounded bemused. “That’s the last you’ll hear about it from me.” He smiled and took one of the papers. Outside, torrential rain pounded the carriage roof. Lightning snaked across the sky, followed by a startling boom of thunder.
“How do you think it went today?” I finally asked.
“Apart from the blood and pain?” Blackwood didn’t say it with anger, though. He took up the tiny dagger and inspected it. “They could be useful, once we adjust to them. But I feel we’d be better served falling back into our own ranks, not looking outside for help.”
“So we hide under a ward again?” He handed back the blade, which I put on the seat next to me.
“No. The time for hiding is past,” he said, gazing out the window at the storm. “But strength comes from unity. In a strange way, I wish Whitechurch had fought harder to keep us from using the weapons. He let himself be swayed too easily by the queen. By you as well, when you brought him that painting of Strangewayes.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand. You think he’s weak?”
“Definitely not,” Blackwood said. “But when you consider the greatest Imperators of history—John Colthurst in the Wars of the Roses, Edward Wren during the Restoration of Charles the Second—they all understood that a man must not yield to the people he leads.”
“So the Imperator should never compromise?” This didn’t feel right. Blackwood picked up my training sheet once more.
“Good leadership requires compromise. Most of the time.” With that, he read until we arrived home.
Once home, I went upstairs to check that Maria was comfortable. The door to the apothecary was ajar, and I heard murmuring. I peeked inside.
She’d finally put on a dress. The gown was a light blue that had been washed so often it had gone gray. She still hadn’t put her wild hair up and had now even taken to sticking bits of flowers in it. She picked a purple flower from her curls and crushed it in her hands, dusting the petals over a wooden bowl filled with some strange concoction.
Maria muttered to herself in a voice that was not quite her own. It sounded deeper, older somehow.
“That’s it, my love. Now the oil. Quick, don’t let it sit too long,” Maria said to herself in that rich, womanly voice. She took a flask beside her and sprinkled the contents over the bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, she stirred quickly, smiling. “There it is. You see it now?”
I pushed open the door, and her trancelike expression vanished.
“Is Rook here?” I tried to look innocent, but Maria was too smart.
“It’s all right. You saw Willie.” She took a jug of water and poured some into the bowl, making a paste of the powder.
“Willie?” I sat opposite her, watching as she took a bit of cloth and spread the paste onto it. Folding the cloth in half, she mashed the top of it.
“I’ve not had many friends,” Maria said. Her cheeks tinged pink as she unfolded the cloth and cut a square of the paste. “I was five when I was taken to a workhouse in Edinburgh. Ran when I was ten. Then on, I survived mainly on my own.”
“You were in a workhouse?” And at five? I knew enough of the appalling conditions children in York had suffered, slaving from dawn until dusk at looms or wheels without proper food or clothing. At Brimthorn, whenever we felt hungry or cold, the head teacher, Miss Morris, would remind us we were more fortunate than most.
“Aye. After I left, I had to live off the land, learn to hunt, fish, protect myself. So you might say I made a friend in my head.” Maria shrugged.
“Why call her Willie?”
“I was never sure.” She placed the square of cut paste on the table in front of me. “She always felt like a Willie to me.”
Well, far be it from me to tell anyone they were odd. “What’s that supposed to do?” I eyed the paste.
“Lavender oil, verbena, water, and gingerroot to strengthen Rook’s body.” She rubbed her stomach. “Flush out the poison.”
There was a small racket by the window, startling me. A cage that I’d not noticed before hung from the rafter, and inside the cage a cream-colored turtledove flapped its wings. Maria made a shushing sound as she got up and unlatched the
door. The bird hopped obediently into her hand, and she sat at the table again, stroking the dove’s soft head with the tip of her finger. She trilled and whispered, and it watched her with shining black eyes.
“Where on earth did you get a turtledove?”
Maria shrugged. “There was a man selling caged birds, wandering up and down the street. This one called to me.” Maria didn’t take her gaze away from the creature. “This city is too hard. Soothes me to have something pure and alive near at hand.” She cradled the cooing dove against her chest.
Maria whistled gently, the sound like a soft, rushing wind. That bone-deep energy flooded the room again, the kind I’d felt the night I’d seen her rid herself of the Familiar’s venom. This was gentler, though.
“Did you have pets when you were little?” I reached out a finger to stroke the dove. It ruffled its feathers in response; it wanted only Maria.
“I don’t remember much of my grandmother’s coven, but I recall the animals. The turtledoves flocked to us especially. I’d many before the burnings started.”
Her warm brown eyes darkened as she placed the dove on the table.
“I don’t understand how the sorcerers could be so savage against your kind,” I said, unable to help myself. Dimly, I realized I’d said “the sorcerers”—not we.
“We celebrate life, yes. But death as well.” Maria took another purple flower from her hair and twirled it between her fingers. “You saw what I did with that shrub. For one to live, one must die.” Maria’s voice dropped once more to that strange, womanly tone. “That’s a dangerous power to have.”
The door opened, and Rook entered. His eyes were so bright and his face so flushed that for a moment I was afraid he was feverish. But the wide, brilliant smile on his face told me he felt no pain.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked as he slid onto the bench beside me. His hands were trembling, but he looked excited.
“Wonderful day at work.” He leaped up and walked around to Maria. “Have we anything to try yet?”
Well, at least I could be here for Rook’s first treatment. Maria handed him the odd-colored square of paste. “The taste’ll be strange, but you must have no water for at least ten minutes.”
Rook ate the thing in one go. His face puckered.
“Will it work soon?” There was such hope in his black eyes. He sat down beside me again, and his hand found mine.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Maria said. “For now, don’t worry.”
That seemed enough for Rook. But until the shadows receded, I would keep worrying. There was no way to make me stop.
—
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THE BOYS and I met in the barracks’ courtyard and practiced with the weapons. We avoided the flutes and the lantern but did our best sparring with the blades. Dee gave up on using the scythe when it wouldn’t stop making that horrid noise. Every night when we disbanded, I wondered if we were using them properly. I would read Strangewayes’s journal and grow more puzzled. His mind had been a fragmented mess. None of us could be sure.
Then, on the seventh day, the bells rang at dawn.
Before I opened my eyes, I knew these weren’t the standard morning bells. Every church tower in London rang at the same time, using the same pattern. Dong. Dong. Ding ding ding.
A warning. A call to battle.
I sat up in my bed, my heart hammering. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to remember what the pattern meant. The two solid, long tolls said that it was an attack. The three rapid bells indicated the eastern edge of the barrier. But it didn’t include the pattern that announced which Ancient we were to fight.
That was odd, and troubling.
Lilly rushed into my room and threw open my wardrobe without a word. She knew what those bells meant as well as I.
“Did you sleep well, miss?” she asked, sounding a bit breathless. She pushed open the curtains. “It’ll be a cool day, I suspect.” Lilly hurried about the room, pouring hot water and handing me my wrap. Her face was white, but other than that she showed no panic. I wished I had her courage.
Dong. Dong. Ding ding ding. The bells continued as we got me laced into my corset, tied my boots, and threw on the dark gown Madame Voltiana had designed for me. “Battle ready,” she’d called it. It had loose sleeves that let me raise my arms over my head without difficulty, and a less voluminous skirt. Frankly, trousers would have been best, but I couldn’t imagine having that conversation with Whitechurch.
When I was dressed, I hurried downstairs to find Blackwood pacing by the door. He’d a sword and dagger strapped to his waist. Without a word, I took the other dagger, put the two-inch-long blade up my sleeve in a sheath, and hung the bone whistle about my neck.
There. We were both prepared. Really, it had been lucky London had not faced a direct attack in the months since the ward fell. We couldn’t have expected to stay that lucky forever.
Before we left, I looked for Rook but couldn’t find him. The whole house was awake and hurrying up and down stairs, preparing to flee in case…well, just in case. Nowhere was safe any longer.
As dawn fully broke, Blackwood and I arrived near Hackney, descending into a sea of sorcerers. Squadron leaders whistled and herded stragglers into neat rows. Joined shoulder to shoulder, with hands upon staves in the customary “resting” position, the men stared at the barrier and awaited further orders. It never ceased to impress me how, well, orderly they were. When I’d first come to London, I’d met the sorcerers when they were mostly idle, taking tea and attending parties. The speed and grace with which they organized—we organized—illustrated the Order’s strength. I clutched the hilt of my dagger, hoping it would inspire confidence and ease. It did not.
While Blackwood and I walked past the rows, looking for our own squadron, I kept stealing glances at the barrier. The dark Fae had created it, and as such it was like something from a shadowy fairy tale, one used to frighten children on winter nights. Tangled thickets rose thirty feet high around us, rife with dagger-sharp thorns. Flowers bloomed with teeth glittering among the petals, and snapped if you drew too close.
We found Magnus and Dee near the end of the squadron lines. Dee was loosening up, running in place. Magnus was still, which was odd for him. “What do you think it is?” he asked.
Part of me wildly hoped that it was only a drill to test our formation time.
“Do you think it’s the Vulture Lady?” Dee asked. His right leg jiggled like mad. “I think she’s the worst one. Picture her swooping out of the sky and gutting you with her talons. Suppose she starts eating you while you’re still alive.”
“Thanks for the image,” Magnus said dryly as Valens arrived. There was a trace of stubble on our captain’s chin, and his eyes looked bleary and red. He counted the four of us, nodded curtly, then took out his stave and created a column of wind to lift him off the ground.
“Come along,” he said as he hovered. So we were going up and over the barrier. Glancing down the line, I waited for the other squadron leaders to order their men up and forward, but it didn’t happen. They were creating water glasses, as if they were planning to watch. Watch? Were we going over with no backup?
Still, I must obey my leader. So, knees shaking, I made a column for myself and rose. As I crossed over, the thorns snagged the bottom of my petticoats. I had to fight with my skirts as I floated down to the ground—landing in a dress was always a potentially immodest experience.
The boys came down alongside me, and we faced the rubble that had once been part of our city. Before the ward fell, this area had been shielded from violence. Now the remains of buildings stood crumbling around us. Walls of scorched brick loomed overhead, charred memories of homes, shops, and lives now lost. Down the street, a single staircase that had improbably survived destruction stretched up into the sky, leading nowhere.
“What are the orders, sir?” I asked.
“Practice,” Valens answered. “The Imperator wants to assess how these magician weapons work in battle. He thinks
it better to start small, and I agree.” He pointed straight ahead at a two-story building that was still intact. “Familiars have been spotted nearby. Destroy them.”
They’d called the entire Order out to watch us battle some Familiars? Was there really no better use of sorcerers’ time or energy? Every sorcerer in London would witness our victory—or defeat. If the new weapons didn’t work, everyone would know, and all faith would be lost.
Whitechurch was a clever fellow. To think that Blackwood worried the man was getting soft.
“What kind of Familiars?” Blackwood asked.
I took my dagger out, determined to make the most of this.
“Ravens,” Valens said.
Ravens, eh? They weren’t the easiest to battle, but also not the worst. Still, my gut cramped with unease. Something about this felt too simple.
Valens retreated to the barrier—coward—as we strode forward, finding our way through the rubble. The dawn was blood red, lending a hellish tint to the area. Wasn’t there a rhyme about this sort of thing? Red sky at morning, sailors take warning?
I needed to find some more cheerful poems.
“At least it’s a lovely, brisk morning for a fight,” Magnus said.
The four of us clumped together as we came closer to the building. There was the call of a crow somewhere nearby. We stopped, my muscles tensing just to hear it.
Though I had to admit that standing shoulder to shoulder with the boys and waiting for something to come screaming over the horizon felt oddly like home.
Blackwood unhooked his corkscrew sword. Dee had the flute in his hands. I hoped we wouldn’t have to use that particular weapon.
Magnus stepped forward and turned in a circle, scanning the area. It was as quiet as a graveyard, and as heavy with death. Blast and hell, I needed to stop thinking that.
“At least there are no Ancients about,” Blackwood said, lowering his sword.
“Which is odd.” I fingered the whistle that hung around my neck. “You’d think R’hlem would be attacking us with all his might.” With an army at his disposal, why was R’hlem being so, well, cautious?
Blackwood looked back at the barrier. “London is still the greatest prize, and he doesn’t want to make a misstep. Especially not now that we have the chosen one.” He gave me a wry smile. “Once he knows our weak spots, nothing will keep him out.”
A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire, Book Two) Page 11