by Joan Lennon
Madlen noticed the frown on Cam’s face and suddenly leaned over.
‘What’s your problem?’ she hissed, and then stopped. Even to herself she sounded spiteful. But I’m not! she cried silently. I’m just scared.
Cam’s frown deepened, but it didn’t seem to be in reaction to Madlen – more in puzzlement. And it wasn’t about Lord Bullvador and Mrs Mac’s back story either.
‘What are all those people doing?’ it said quietly. ‘All those stupid scraps of paper and people getting trained as Couriers and all that business with running about when you want to tell somebody something!’
It stared at Madlen, who stared back.
‘I don’t quite…’ she began.
‘Why don’t they use the phone?!’ exclaimed Cam. ‘Or email? Or fax machine? Or flipping magic, for that matter. Runners went out with the Dark Ages.’
‘We still have Runners,’ Bryn butted in loudly.
‘My point,’ retorted Cam.
‘None of those other things work here.’
It was Kate.
‘Not reliably anyway,’ she went on. ‘Within a specific segment of London House continuum – a room, say, at a certain time – electrical equipment is fine, magic is fine. But try and send between rooms, or times, or combinations of both – forget it! You have no guarantee the message will arrive, or when it will arrive, or how it may have evolved on the way… And nothing like that works in or out of here.’ She waved a hand to indicate the kitchen. ‘Especially magic. Mrs Mac won’t have it. She says it gets into the food and plays merry hell with the vitamins.’
‘I might as well serve nothing but TV dinners and junk food.’ Mrs Macmahonney bustled past, putting plates of food in front of them as she went.
Kate smiled at the children. ‘The kitchen is heavily shielded. It’s like disappearing into a great black hole.’
‘Bit like what happens to my cooking,’ muttered Mrs Mac on the way back.
‘You mean nobody can tell we’re here?’ asked Madlen.
‘If the Couriers don’t tell, and the Agents don’t tell, and the postman doesn’t let slip he saw you coming up the front steps – why, you might not even exist at all!’
‘The postman’s in on all this?!’
‘Don’t worry, he’s very discreet.’
‘I’m not hungry’ said Cam, looking at the plate before it.
Kate looked sympathetic. ‘Me neither,’ she said. ‘But it makes sense to eat when you can. You learn that pretty soon as an Agent.’ She picked up a fork and dug in determinedly.
When you can… Cam didn’t like the sound of that. It poked at the food a little and gave up. It gazed aimlessly around the room and then suddenly asked, ‘Is there really a London in every World?’
Kate smothered a laugh. ‘You know, I can still remember the time I asked that question. Lady Vera herself was taking that class – I think the usual teacher had got caught up in some sort of warp delay – and she said, “Any questions?” and I said the first thing that came into my head: “Is there really a London in every World?” And she looked me up and down and said, “The universe has to have a centre, and Londoners have always believed they are it The strength of that belief transcends fact, time and the multiple-World continuum.”’
Cam hadn’t noticed Lady Vera having an accent before, but in Kate’s rendition it was as strongly northern as a coalmine on a short day. The Dalrodian stared.
Kate coughed. ‘I guess you just had to be there,’ she said.
‘Did anybody ever ask why there are only three Worlds?’ said Bryn, his mouth full. ‘I’ve wondered about that. I mean, why not two, or six, or sixty?’
‘Oh, sure. That one came up. I remember some teacher or other saying, “Three is not enough for you, young person?” but mostly they just maundered on about three being a special number, with a special tension, and we should consider the triangle, the triad, the trilogy, and don’t forget Pythagoras…’ Kate shrugged. ‘It’s my guess they don’t actually know.’
There was a burst of laughter from the workers, and a plate hit the floor.
‘You all right there?’ called Kate in a careful sort of voice. ‘Need any help?’
‘No, no, we’re fine!’ Bullvador and Mrs Mac chorused.
Kate hid a smile and winked at the children.
‘Look,’ said Madlen. ‘This is all very interesting, but let’s stick to the important stuff, OK? Like, like… how are we supposed to know the magic objects? I mean, will there be a sign or something?’
‘Oh yes, they’ll all be labelled: OBJECTS OF POWER – ONE PER HOUSEHOLD,’ said Bryn scornfully. ‘I can just see that.’
Kate ignored him. ‘As far as I understand it, there will be a sense of… rightness,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to explain, but apparently unmistakable. You will just know.’
‘Like, it’ll sort of speak to us?’ Madlen was struggling here.
‘Hellooo – pick me uuuuuuuuupppppp…’ murmured Bryn.
‘BRYNN!!!’ Kate and Madlen turned on him simultaneously.
‘Do you want me to knock him over again?’ asked Cam sweetly, but then another voice intervened.
‘Lord Bullvador?’ It was a Courier at the door, not one they’d seen before. ‘You asked to be told as soon as the Council was to reconvene.’
Lord Bullvador was suddenly standing by the table. He no longer looked like somebody’s favourite uncle. He looked grim, and powerful, and even… sinister.
He looked like a Prelate.
‘Thank you, Simons. That’s all for now’
The Courier nodded and left.
There was a pause. Then, ‘It’s time,’ said Lord Bullvador, squaring his big shoulders.
Everyone stared at him. His expression was unreadable, but in the sudden silence his words rang in the air.
It was time.
12
It Begins
‘How will they travel?’ Mrs Mac’s voice was all business now.
‘By Tube,’ replied Lord Bullvador.
‘What’s a tube?’ Bryn whispered to Cam.
‘I think it’s a kind of wormhole,’ it whispered back. ‘Must be time travel of some sort.’
Madlen turned on them fiercely. ‘Don’t be so stupid. Not “a tube” – the Tube! The Underground! You know – little smelly trains that take people around London in tunnels. About as cosmic as toast.’
Kate put out a hand. ‘You’re right, Madlen,’ she said. ‘But… you’re also wrong.’
‘There’s no time to explain,’ interrupted Bullvador. ‘Maggie, the Grenadier Platform. Factor in a ten-year Future-lag. Where would you like us?’
Mrs Macmahonney appeared to listen for something and then said, ‘If you would all just go into the larder and come out again, that would do nicely.’
Kate and Lord Bullvador headed for the larder door. The children looked at each other and then shrugged. It was just another thing that didn’t make sense. They did as they were told.
Going in was completely ordinary, but as they came out again…
‘Urggh – what is that?!’
‘Did you feel that before – in the cars?’
‘Dimensional shift – nothing to worry about,’ Mrs Mac called reassuringly to them.
‘I thought you said there was no magic here,’ Madlen muttered sullenly.
‘There’s more than one kitchen, Madlen,’ said Kate. ‘They’re not all shielded.’
Mrs Macmahonney was standing now beside the heavy sideboard against the far wall. As soon as Kate and Lord Bullvador had joined her, she turned round and opened a drawer. Then, with a perfectly serious expression on her face, she took out two forks, gave them a quick rub on her sleeve, put them back and then removed a teaspoon. She looked at this for a second, dropped it into her pocket and… with a reluctant grinding noise, the sideboard swung away from the wall.
They all jumped back. Madlen caught a glimpse of forgotten buttons and coins, glinting among the dust balls on the floor. Does the
law of treasure trove apply to the underneaths of sideboards? she wondered manically. With the right equipment you could make a decent career out of extracting lost change from down the sides of sofas, from the uncharted realms below furniture generally… I wish I could stop sweating.
There was a door in the wall. Mrs Mac put her hand to the handle. She looked at the three kindly.
‘Ready?’ she said.
Cam shrugged, and Madlen and Bryn nodded. They all looked green.
‘Jolly good,’ she said, and opened the door.
A blast of warm air came out to greet them. It was musty and metallic, just a breath away from the smell of toilets infrequently cleaned. It was a smell anyone who had ever been in London would know immediately. Bottled, you could export it to homesick Londoners in Kafftanistan, and there, among the alien smells of yak’s butter and wet felt, they would inhale and recognize their roots.
The Tube.
Stairs, lit by low-wattage lamps behind wire mesh, led down. The three stepped forward and peered into the depths. At their backs was a kitchen full of human comfort. At their feet, something altogether less cosy beckoned.
One by one, they started down the stairs.
As soon as Mrs Mac shut the door, the blurring sensation returned, then passed over.
‘Shielding’s back,’ she stated in a flat voice.
There was a moment’s silence in the kitchen. Then Bullvador spoke.
‘I should go. But… I need to talk to you first,’ he said. ‘There’s something badly wrong and I need your help.’
Kate didn’t want to talk any more. She just wanted to go someplace quiet and worry about the children. Her children. The Council represented collectively more power, skill, experience and knowledge than she could even imagine, let alone aspire to. Agents, Couriers, they were all only fingers and feet for the Prelates. There were plenty of them, and they worked to keep their particular bits of reality ticking over nicely. But the Council – they held the entire picture in their heads, maintaining (and in some senses creating) it, both forward and backward along the Continuum, while playing three-dimensional chess to keep the rest of their brains from getting bored.
Let them solve the problems of the Worlds. Let them just leave her alone.
‘What is it, Bull?’ asked Mrs Macmahonney gently.
Lord Bullvador drew a deep breath into his huge chest and let it go. Speaking quietly was clearly an effort for him, but it was an effort he was prepared to make.
‘I have reason to believe,’ he said, ‘that the source of the energy leak, the point of origin, is not anywhere in the Worlds. There are subsidiary weakenings there, of course, and there’s all the backwash damage – but that’s not where it starts… It starts here. In the House.’
Kate’s mouth dropped. He had her attention now.
‘But…’ she spluttered. ‘But we’ve been looking in the Worlds! All of us! For years… How could it be here? We all live here, for crying out loud – You live here! How could you possibly not have noticed…?’
‘Kate!’ interrupted Mrs Mac. ‘Mind yourself!’
But Lord Bullvador only shook his head. ‘I’ve been asking myself the same questions. And the only answer I can come up with is that we were meant not to notice, and the one who meant us not to notice is someone of exceptional power and ingenuity.’
There was a heavy pause. Then, ‘What do the other Prelates say about this?’ asked Mrs Macmahonney.
‘I haven’t spoken to them about it.’
Kate drew her breath in sharply. ‘You suspect somebody on the Council?!’ she exclaimed.
‘I don’t suspect anyone,’ he said slowly, with a strange tinge to his voice.
Kate’s heart jerked. ‘And this has to do with the children, doesn’t it,’ she said. She was standing now, though she didn’t remember doing it.
‘I’m afraid they’ll be tampered with, yes,’ answered the Prelate. ‘Failing in the Quests would mean unthinkable disaster – but any success they achieve will undoubtedly increase the danger they are already in. I am turning to you, to both of you, because I know that your loyalty to the children cannot help but be clear.’
Mrs Macmahonney stood up, slowly, massively.
And you have no other reason to trust me?’ she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
Lord Bullvador looked at her. ‘I trust you with my life, Maggie. But this is more important than that.’
For a moment, it seemed as if Mrs Mac were about to walk out. She didn’t though. She sat down again, and Kate stopped holding her breath.
‘What do you want us to do, Lord Bullvador?’ she asked.
‘I want you to watch, and listen, and protect the Questors from anything that might affect them. Any advice, any hints as to what they should be looking for, could so easily steer them away from the truth. And I want you to report exclusively to me.’
‘Just you? But what about the Council?’
Lord Bullvador gave them a strange look.
‘I’m not asking you to do anything I’m not willing to do myself.’
He stood up, and looked from Mrs Mac to Kate and back again.
‘The Questors must be allowed to complete the Quests without interference. They are the key Think about what I’ve said. The Quests must be completed.
‘And I must go,’ he added. He started to walk away, just like that, as if there were no more to be said.
Mrs Mac didn’t agree.
Just as the Prelate reached the door, she called out quietly to him.
‘Don’t be a stranger, Bull,’ she said.
He didn’t turn round. ‘I don’t want to draw danger to you any more than I have to,’ he said. ‘But I wish…’ Then he was gone.
‘I think I’ll go and check out the, um, in the larder,’ said Kate, carefully not looking in Mrs Mac’s direction.
‘Would you look at the dirt behind that sideboard!’ exclaimed Mrs Mac huskily. ‘It’s a crying shame…’
Somewhere in the London House:
‘Preceptor?’
‘Not yet, you fool! It is a matter of monitoring progress only at this stage. And, Cordell…’
‘Yes, Preceptor?’
‘Don’t approach me again. If I want you, I will let you know.’
‘Yes. Preceptor.’
As the Courier entered the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Mrs Macmahonney’s bottom in the air, as she attacked the dust behind the sideboard with a brush and pan.
He was only a Junior Courier, and this was not something he had been prepared for, not in any of the training courses he had taken so far.
‘Errrgle?’ said the Courier.
‘Acckkk!’ said Mrs Macmahonney, rearing up, dropping the dustpan and banging her head on the wall.
‘Spring-cleaning?’ squeaked the Courier.
‘Spring-cleaning,’ said Mrs Mac at the same time. She waved the brush about casually. ‘I had it out, you see, and it seemed…’ She waved it again.
‘Er, can I push it back for you?’ asked the Courier politely. He had an ailing mother of whom he was fond, and he didn’t like the idea of any lady struggling when there were big strong men about.
‘You’re a thoughtful boy,’ said Mrs Mac, ‘but I’m just fine.’ She made a mystic sort of gesture with her hand (while unobtrusively shoving the cutlery drawer shut with her hip) and the heavy sideboard rumbled back into place. The effect was spoiled a little by the sound of the forgotten dustpan being crushed into tiny pieces, but the Courier was still junior enough to be impressed.
‘Yes, Ma’am! I’ve brought a communication for the Questors. From the Council Secretary. Mr Cordell said it was imperative I get it to them before they leave, Ma’am.’
‘I’ll give it to them,’ came a voice behind him.
The Courier whirled, and there was Kate, leaning in the larder doorway. She smiled a slow smile and held out her hand.
‘I’m supposed to deliver it directly to…’ he began, but Kate shook her head
gently. Her hair swayed mesmerizingly.
‘Trust me,’ she said. ‘I’m an Agent.’
The Courier’s thoughts were full of things he wouldn’t be telling his ailing mother about.
‘If you’re sure,’ he said weakly.
‘I’m sure,’ said Kate, her voice deep and sultry. She took the message from his unresisting hand and gently sent him on his way. Then she turned on Mrs Mac.
‘Mrs Macmahonney! I am shocked!’ Kate said, one eyebrow up. ‘Pretending to move the sideboard by magic like that. Fooling that poor boy.’
Mrs Macmahonney huffed. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Anyway, it taught him a valuable lesson – he’s not too young to learn things aren’t always as they seem. Besides, you’re one to talk!’
‘I just asked him nicely,’ protested Kate.
There was a pause.
‘Want to have a look?’ she said, holding up the envelope.
Mrs Mac nodded and joined her at the table. Kate slit the envelope open with a knife and took out a single sheet.
After they read, they sat, for a long time, and thought.
13
The Tube
Deep below the London House, Madlen, Bryn and Cam stood on the platform. Already it felt as if they had been waiting there for a dingy lifetime. The station was badly lit and bare. There were only the grimy tiled walls and a cement floor blotched with unidentified stains and dirt to look at.
Cam and Bryn wondered about the World they were entering. They’d heard rumours – how all the power was in the hands of the Echelon; how maths was the measuring stick for everything; how if you didn’t make it as a candidate, you didn’t make it as anything. But, frankly, Trentor had never seemed attractive or interesting enough a World for them to want to find out more. And at the moment, Madlen didn’t look as if she felt much like filling in the gaps.
They’d just have to wait and see.
So they waited. And waited some more…
Nobody had said anything for a long time, when Bryn suddenly burst out, too loudly and much too cheerfully, ‘Well, no trains today!’
He made as if to head back up the stairs.