I’d seen two crewmen die after one fell overboard in cold seas and the other jumped in to bring him out. Neither survived the cold though we got them both out of the water alive.
Our warning bell had roused other ships nearby, and their own bells were passing the warning down the river.
“This is more serious than turning leaves red or turning horses into unicorns,” I said. “It’s midsummer. This is the Fae’s reminder. I wonder how far it extends. If it spreads into the country and affects the wheat harvest, we’re going to have wholesale famine.”
“It’s time to go to Cavendish Square,” Corwen said. “Even though we risk ourselves, we may be able to help persuade members of Parliament before the vote.”
“Yes. It’s time for us to stand and be counted. No more hiding.”
“No more hiding.”
45
Ice
MUFFLED UP WITH gloves and scarves and wearing layers of the warmest clothing we had, the three of us crossed to Wapping Old Stairs on the ice. I didn’t trust it to take our weight at first, but it was as solid as stone. I worried that the pressure of the ice might damage the Heart’s hull, but there wasn’t much I could do about it except wish that I’d sent Hookey away from London days ago.
The ice was treacherous and the steps slippery, but we made it to the Town of Ramsgate without incident. At this time in the morning it was all locked up, but I could see flickering flames reflected on the frosted window glass. The landlady was obviously stoking the fire in the public room, trying to keep out the cold.
“How will Timpani and Dancer fare in this?” I asked.
“They’re Fae,” Corwen said. “They should be all right.”
“I’m sure it’s getting colder,” I said. “My lungs hurt every time I breathe.”
“It’s my eyes I’m worried about,” Lily said. “Every time I blink, I’m sure I can feel ice cracking on my eyeballs.”
We had to hammer on the door of the Red Lion to get any service, but finally the landlord came and drew the bolts.
“What do you want?”
“Our horses and one extra,” Corwen said. “We have to get across London and there’s not a coach to be had.”
“Are you surprised? Go home, stay warm.”
I shook my head, my teeth chattering so much I could hardly speak. “Horses, now.”
“What my wife means is we’re happy to pay you well for the hire of the horse.”
The landlord sniffed and held out his hand for coins. “You’ll need to shout for young Luke. He sleeps in the loft.”
It being obvious the landlord wasn’t going to come out with us, we made our way around the back of the inn where there was stabling. Corwen tried the door, and it swung open.
“Who’s there? What does yer want?”
“Our horses, and one more, paid for,” Corwen shouted.
“In this weather?”
We found Luke in one of the stalls pressed up against a stocky dray horse for warmth, his fingers twined in the horse’s mane, a blanket around his shoulders. His cheeks looked pinched and pale, and his lips had a slight blue tinge.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Does it look like I’m all right?”
“Haven’t you got a stove in your loft?”
“Aye, but ain’t got no coals.”
“Why not?”
“It’s summer.”
Right. That made sense.
“Saddle a hardy cob for the young lady and then get yourself over to the Town of Ramsgate for a beefsteak breakfast.” Corwen tipped him two shillings. “The landlady’s got a fire roaring up the chimney.”
“Thanks, mister.”
Timpani and Dancer didn’t seem to notice the cold. Luke saddled a gray cob and draped an extra blanket over her hindquarters since she was in her summer coat. I hoped Luke got his beefsteak breakfast, but we didn’t hang around to check.
We weren’t the only ones on the road, but London was much quieter than usual. We rode parallel to the river, through the jumble of streets at St. Catherine’s and around the glutinous boggy moat, now frozen solid, and the forbidding stone walls of the Tower. From the Tower, we struck north to Cheapside and then followed it to High Holborn, Broad Street, and finally Oxford Street. Margaret Street was two streets north close to Cavendish Square. Our destination was firstly Margaret Street to collect George and then on to Cavendish Square to his grandfather’s house.
We saw our first corpse, frozen to death in the mouth of an alley, before we reached the Tower. By the time we reached Oxford Street, we’d seen seven, two of them children, huddled together, but quite cold, their faces glassy with frost. Those vagrants sleeping in the streets, crouched in alleyways and shop doorways, had not fared well. We stopped for the first one, and for the children, but we were obviously too late, so we rode past the rest and tried not to look.
It was still wanting a few minutes before nine of the clock when we arrived at Margaret Street. Lily rang the front door bell and then pounded on the door panel with the flat of her hand.
A footman came out to take our horses round to the stable in the mews behind the house. He didn’t look any too pleased to be out in such a frost, but at least he was wrapped up warmly in a caped coat.
Lily practically sprinted through the front door, and Corwen and I followed her into the relative warmth of the house.
George stepped onto the first-floor landing. “Good God in His heaven, but it’s cold.”
“Try riding across London in it,” Lily said.
George came downstairs to the morning room. It was small, with a sofa, a couple of chairs, and a breakfast table set for one. A fire blazed in the grate.
We divested ourselves of outer garments and George asked the footman to bring more breakfast rolls, hot chocolate, and coffee.
“Oooh, George, no wonder Lily loves you,” I said. “If I were free, I’d marry you for hot chocolate right now.”
He laughed and poured me a cup.
Corwen helped himself to coffee and a warm bread roll.
“So is this what the Fae meant by saying they might try to hurry us along?” George asked.
“I’m guessing so,” Corwen said. “We need to know how far the freeze has spread. If it’s limited to London, it’s bad but not a grand-scale disaster. If it’s spread farther out to the wheat fields . . . ”
“Crop failure, famine, more bread riots, civil unrest,” George said.
We nodded.
“So we’ll do whatever we can to help resolve this quickly,” I said. “If that means doing party tricks for politicians to show them the extent of magic, then I’ll do it.”
“Wrap up warm, George,” Corwen said. “Let’s go and see your grandfather.”
“You are not keeping me out of things this time,” Lily said. “I’m coming, too.”
George looked as though he’d like to protest but, wisely, didn’t.
We left our horses in George’s mews stable, tucked away behind the house, where they would be warm enough, and walked around the corner to Lord Stratford’s house. He was already working on correspondence in his office and didn’t stand on ceremony, receiving us there.
He listened to what we had to say and nodded sagely. “We have support in both houses, but I’m not sure we have enough to carry the bill with a secure majority. However, I think today’s weather proves we must move quickly. I’ve already had reports from Surrey and Hampshire. They are suffering the same low temperatures. Crops will fail, and we don’t have reserves after the last few poor harvests.” He frowned. “You realize I can’t offer you safety from the Mysterium if you make yourselves known.”
“We hope, sir, if the bill passes, that the Mysterium will be taken care of,” Corwen said.
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Pray that it does
.”
* * *
We traveled in Lord Stratford’s coach, entering the Palace of Westminster through a columned portico. We followed him through the building to a smallish room where he asked us to wait while he sent his secretary in search of Mr. Pitt and the first minister himself, Mr. Addington.
I heard them speaking in the corridor as they approached. From what Mr. Addington said, the king had, indeed, asked him to deal with the rowankind question, but the forthcoming election and the peace with France had wholly occupied him.
“Of course, there’s no question of dissolving Parliament at the end of this month if the country’s facing famine,” I heard Mr. Pitt saying as they approached our room. “The general election will have to be postponed.”
I didn’t quite catch Mr. Addington’s answer before the door opened.
Mr. Pitt and Mr. Addington were easy in each other’s company, so I took it that rather than being political rivals, they were, in fact, colleagues. Mr. Addington had taken over as first minister when Mr. Pitt had resigned over the Irish Catholic question, but I got the impression Mr. Addington still deferred to Mr. Pitt in some matters.
Introductions were made, and in our presence Mr. Pitt apprised Mr. Addington of his visit to the Fae. If Mr. Addington’s eyebrows could have risen any higher, I swear they would have disappeared into his hair.
Lord Stratford supported all Mr. Pitt said, and then it was our turn.
Corwen began. “Mr. Addington, you don’t need us to tell you about the power of the Fae. You’ve had the proof of it already with the unicorns, the dairy cattle, the red leaves, the beer turned to water. Indeed, I see you are standing on it.” Mr. Addington sported one foot three inches longer than the other. “You will note,” Corwen continued, “both Mr. Pitt and Lord Stratford have been cured of that affliction.”
I took over. “The Fae are now reminding us they have the power to cause conditions so against nature that they could endanger the lives of all the population of these islands. They don’t want to rule us, they simply want to remind us that magic is endemic, and our treatment of magicals, including the rowankind, is abhorrent and must be changed.”
“I’m an officer of the Mysterium,” George added, “I can testify that rowankind have been hanged for their magic, despite their status as non-persons according to all the statutes, meaning that they are outside the parameters of the Mysterium Act of 1590.”
Mr. Addington looked worried. “We can’t lose the wheat crop. The country is one bad harvest away from famine and revolution.” He looked at Mr. Pitt. “What do you advise? If we dissolve the Mysterium and recognize the right of magicals as persons within the law, will the Fae leave us alone?”
Mr. Pitt looked at me.
“I’m sure they will,” I said, hoping they would.
“So it only remains for us to convince the members of both houses,” Mr. Pitt said.
“Could we help with that?” I created a witchlight and tossed it into the air. Catching it with a tiny gust of wind, I blew it around the room. “What would it take to convince them?”
Lily took the bag she’d been carrying and requested a room to change. She returned a short while later wearing a belted dressing robe.
“Gentlemen, would this help to convince the honorable members of both houses?” she asked. Then she turned her back to everyone, unfastened the robe, and sank to the floor. Within seconds she stood there as a large black wolf. She wasn’t as big as Corwen, but she was still impressive.
“Is that an illusion?” Mr. Addington asked.
“No, sir,” George responded. “That’s my wife. Isn’t she beautiful?”
I dropped the robe over Lily, and she turned back without showing so much as an inch of flesh. A lively conversation followed and resulted in Mr. Pitt, Mr. Addington, and Lord Stratford summoning their colleagues to meet the magicals in advance of a debate and a vote.
For the next two hours I thought I knew what animals in a zoo felt like. I talked myself hoarse, answering question both sensible and inane. Corwen and Lily changed countless times, and I produced lights and winds and even a tiny rainstorm for one gentleman who tried to remain unimpressed.
At length, Mr. Addington marshaled the Commons, and Lord Stratford departed likewise to speak to the Lords.
Corwen, Lily, George, and I crept into the public gallery at the west end of the House to listen to the debate. Since ladies were not allowed to view the deliberations of the House, Corwen glamoured Lily and me until we were all safely installed and George guarded our backs lest one of the stewards should ask us to leave. Ladies or not, neither Lily nor I were going to miss this. The gallery held over a hundred people and was more than half full already. I heard Corwen chuckle.
“Goblins,” he said. “Every last one of them. All glamoured.”
One of them turned around on hearing Corwen’s voice, and I realized it was Mr. Twomax. He winked at me and then turned back to the proceedings.
A short while later a contingent of rowankind arrived.
The House itself was very grand. Formerly a chapel, there were benches down both sides, each row raised higher than the one in front of it. Facing down the middle was a huge thronelike chair with the king’s arms on top of it. This, Corwen said, was the Speaker’s chair. The Speaker himself, dressed all in black, wore a full wig. In front of him was a table at which sat three clerks, also dressed in black, whose purpose was to read the bills and to record all that passed. On the table lay the Speaker’s mace, a huge gilded thing, itself a symbol of authority.
Mr. Addington and Mr. Pitt sat on the front bench to the Speaker’s right surrounded by their supporters, and a florid man with a large belly encased in a tightly buttoned waistcoat occupied the bench opposite with his supporters. Mr. Fox, I supposed. Good job he wasn’t a fox shapechanger. He’d make the biggest fox ever seen. I tried to hide my smile at the thought.
The bill was read. Mr. Pitt stood and spoke most eloquently about how the Mysterium had been formed to serve a need of the day but now, two hundred and eleven years later, had become something it was never intended to be. Someone on Mr. Fox’s bench replied that the Mysterium was Britain’s only protection from the threat of unlicensed magic. Mr. Addington responded, though not in such an authoritative way as Mr. Pitt, that licensed or unlicensed, the Mysterium was incapable of preventing the use of magic, only punishing it after the fact, and those punishments were only meted out to lesser magic users who had not the power to protect themselves. Greater magic users were hard to expose and even harder to bring to justice. The Mysterium cost a lot to maintain and achieved comparatively little. He bandied some figures about and then handed back to Mr. Pitt.
Mr. Pitt read from several witness statements about hangings without trial, including the case of the rowankind, and the imprisonment of magicals aboard the Guillaume Tell. When Mr. Fox spoke in favor of the bill from the opposition benches, it looked as if we’d reached a turning point in the debate.
Since this was a bill of two parts, they also had to discuss the other races and magicals. One young fellow on the third bench behind Mr. Pitt said he didn’t believe magicals lived among us, and goblins were a child’s fairy tale. At that, such a hubbub went up from the public gallery that it drew everyone’s attention. Immediately, the goblins all dropped their glamour, and seventy pale-skinned, bulgy-eyed, slit-nostriled goblins politely stood to attention, bowed, and cried as one, “God save the king!” before adopting their glamour once more and coming to order.
The uproar in the House of Commons took a little longer to die away; the Speaker had to call for order three times.
“Gentlemen,” Mr. Pitt said. “I would guess each and every one of you has at some time dealt with a goblin whether you know it or not. Many of them are in the tailoring business. Who here has never been measured for a suit of clothes?”
The debate continued.
&
nbsp; I was surprised when a gentleman entered the gallery wearing no finery, but a many-caped coat. I recognized him instantly.
“Majesty.” I began to curtsey, but he waved me upright again.
“I’m not here,” he said. “You haven’t seen me.”
“Of course not, Majesty.” I gestured for Lily and George to turn back to watch the proceedings. “Can I assume that you will give royal assent if the bills are passed in both houses?”
“You can, young lady. We cannot risk a famine. Your Fae have won. Are you happy now?”
“What would make me truly happy, Majesty, is if you allowed your own magic to reveal itself. I do believe its suppression will continue to have an adverse effect on Your Majesty’s health.”
“That, I regret to say, is not possible.” He sighed. “I’m the king, you know.”
And that was that.
The adoption of the Disbanding of the Mysterium and the Recognition of Magic and Magical Personages Bill required only one courteous reading each in the Lords and Commons to pass into law with royal assent. They pushed the bill through both houses on the same day, an unprecedented occurrence. The Mysterium was no more. I felt weak at the knees. All my life the Mysterium had loomed over me. I grabbed Corwen’s hand.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
46
Fae Trial
THE KING DEPARTED as quietly as he’d come. As we left Parliament in the company of Lord Stratford, surrounded by members of both houses, we ran into a wall of goblins and rowankind, all grinning and shaking hands with each other.
A shiver in the air that might have been a fanfare, felt but not heard, announced the arrival of the Fae. They came two by two, riding through the Old Palace Yard in a procession, with Lord Dax at their head. Larien and Dantin were immediately behind him. Larien looked as well as I’d ever seen him. The whole parade emanated a soft glow of golden light. None of the Fae was muffled up in winter garb, but they all looked perfectly comfortable, as though the frost didn’t touch them. No one who saw them doubted who or what they were.
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