by Mark Hayden
‘Trouble is,’ said Ben, ‘Stephen Bloxham’s offered to underwrite them for a year. He’ll pay the start-up costs and buy the uniforms. It’s a lot of money up front, and hard to say no to.’
‘And no doubt they’ll have Bloxham Developments on their shirts and Jules will be confirmed as chair.’
‘No doubt. And if Mina’s not back from India before they arrange their first match, that lass from Bishop’s Cleeve will be wicket keeper.’
‘She’ll cope. At least I get to play tomorrow.’
Ben drained his glass. ‘Our best bowler is on holiday, so you’d better not be rusty from lounging around in Spain. We’re second bottom of the league, you know.’
‘I know. I also know that it’s my round.’
‘Cheers.’
Ben was staring over the fields when I got back. Staring at the chimneys of Elvenham House. He picked up his pint and carried on staring. ‘Myfanwy asked me to help her with online banking, you know. And she’s paying you. She’s paying you £500 a month to be your housekeeper. How does that work? And then there’s this rubbish about not leaving the parish.’
He carried on staring. He was giving me the chance to change the subject if I wanted to.
There’s a problem here. Myfanwy and I have both given an undertaking to the magickal Cloister Court not to entangle anyone on her behalf. Entanglement means deliberately bringing a mundane citizen into the world of magick for some reason. Mina is about as entangled as you can get.
That undertaking made my job very difficult, and I was chewing it over when Ben turned around. ‘And there’s something else,’ he said. ‘She let slip that you and Vicky were being presented with the Military Cross last week. Congratulations to both of you and all that, but it has to be connected. So does the fact that Myfanwy doesn’t exist online. There is no Myfanwy Lewis on the internet except a one month old Facebook page.’
‘So what’s your worst case scenario, Ben? Seriously, what’s your worst nightmare?’
‘Terrorism. She’s turned Queen’s Evidence and is here to be de-radicalised under your watchful eye.’ He managed a smile. ‘When you’re here. Presumably you’ve subcontracted some of it to me while you’re away saving the world.’
That was far too close to the truth for comfort. Ben isn’t the most demonstrative of men, but that doesn’t mean he’s blind.
I lit a cigarette and said, ‘What do you think of her? As a person?’
‘Bright. Daft as a brush. Gorgeous. Genuinely loves nature. Very generous.’
‘Do you think she could hurt someone?’
‘No way.’
‘And you’re right. She is a good person, Ben, and I reckon you’re good for each other. Let her just be herself and accept that you’ll not be going on holiday for a while. Oh, and Myfanwy Lewis is her real name. I can tell you that much.’
‘What about the payments to you?’
‘Office politics and income tax. It’s a way for the Home Office to pay for her upkeep and keep it out of my boss’s budget. That’s all.’
He nodded and finished his pint. ‘Why did she and Mina dash off after practice?’
‘Long story. Let’s go. Take her home to your place tonight and do us all a favour.’
‘Thanks, Conrad.’
It’s only a five minute walk from the Inkwell to Elvenham, and we spent it talking about tomorrow’s game. It’s an away match, so Myfanwy won’t be going, and neither will Mina. They’re going to work together on Mina’s application for the Merlyn’s Tower job.
We found them in the hall, surrounded by boxes. Some were labelled “Bin” and others “Charity Shop”. In the middle, the girls were sitting next to one marked “Metropolitan Police”. There was also an empty bottle of wine. That was quick work.
Mina was cradling the most gorgeous bolt of emerald green silk and weeping. I could see a couple of splashes on the fabric already.
‘Come on, Myfanwy, let’s leave them to it,’ said Ben.
He walked over to Myfanwy and held out his hand. She let him pull her up, then patted Mina’s shoulder and said, ‘See you tomorrow, eh, Dwt?’
Mina nodded, and they left us in peace. I sat next to her and put my arm round her shoulders. I can fit all of her in one arm. ‘What’s up, love?’
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed. ‘This. When the police rounded up the Moorgate gang, they emptied all of the lockers at the garage. This is the contents of Miles’s locker.’
‘Oh. Your lawyer said that it was personal effects, so I had him send it to the storage company. I thought they were your effects, not Miles’s.’
She put the green silk carefully down. As it moved under the light, it rippled and shimmered like a living thing. When she took her hands from underneath the cloth, it settled as if it were making itself comfortable. She showed me a rumpled piece of paper. It was a shipping note from Maharani Silks of Surat in Gujarat. ‘Look at the date and the product description.’
It was dated two weeks before Miles was killed, and the colour was Bridal Green.
‘The symbol of new life,’ she said. ‘Most brides get married in red, for the purity of fire. We got married in a registry office and I wore a red dress from Coast. Miles always said that I deserved an “Indian” wedding one day.’
I put the document down and held her closer while she cried some more.
When she’d sniffed herself to a stop, she sat up straight. ‘Take this silk and hide it somewhere in the house. Now.’
By the time I got back to the hall, she’d gone to bed. I joined her upstairs and held her again.
4 — Dragon’s Den
‘Why is the ceiling blank?’ said Mina, giving herself a crick in the neck to no avail.
‘It isn’t blank, you just can’t see the frescoes. I must admit that I can’t see them either.’
She grinned. ‘You killed the Dragon, but you can’t see the painted ceiling? What sort of Mage are you?’
Vicky stepped in to save my blushes. ‘It’s masked. There are rather too many naked bottoms for sober people. It was never intended that women would see them. Other than servants, of course.’
‘I like the pillars,’ said Mina.
There was a lot to like in the Banqueting Hall of Newton’s House, even without the frescoes. You can find one of the entrances to Newton’s House quite easily – it’s just off Whitehall Place in London, which puts it in the West End.
Away to the east, the home of the Invisible College is Salomon’s House in the old City of London, and they built this place near the Houses of Parliament for two reasons. First, it’s closer to the seat of mundane power. Second, there’s nowhere inside Salomon’s House that’s big enough to hold everyone at once.
The architect of Newton’s House took his inspiration from ecclesiastical tradition. The Banqueting Hall is underground, and is shaped like a square cross with a lot of blue and gold columns to hold up the buildings above it. The centre has a grand dome, allegedly covered with enchanted frescoes, and one arm of the cross has a dais to hold the top table for banquets or, like today, to become a stage for presentations.
‘Will you sit next to me?’ said Mina to Vicky.
‘I really wish I could, but I’ve got to be on stage.’ She grinned. ‘Tell you what, Mina, I’ll do a swap, then you can sit next to Conrad.’
Mina gave her a dark look. ‘And deprive you of the undivided attention of hundreds of Mages? That would be cruel.’
‘It’s not hundreds, but it’s bad enough. Actually, you’ll be over there. I’ll show you.’
Mina leaned up to kiss me, then followed Vicky. I made my way to the stage. There was a table covered in a blue cloth with golden sunbursts, the colours and insignia of the Invisible College. On top of it were glasses, water jugs and four large name cards, one of which was mine.
Mages were drifting in from the street entrance in ones and twos, then the first group arrived from the door to the Old Network of tunnels under London. Desirée was back
in her wheelchair, which was odd enough; odder still was that Hannah was pushing and that the Dean of the Invisible College, Cora Hardisty, was walking alongside.
They paused in the shadows, well hidden by pillars, and I got a flicker of magick, and only because I was focusing on them. It happened as Desi got out of the chair and Hannah was passing in front of her. Aah. An illusion: it had been Cora in the wheelchair all along.
Dean Cora had been speared in the abdomen recently. She should be at home, but this was her comeback gig. She walked stiffly up to the stage, and I moved to meet her. I jumped down the steps and gave her an extravagant kiss. ‘Take my arm on the steps,’ I whispered.
‘Thank you.’
I stood close enough to the Dean to make Mina jealous, and got her up the steps.
‘I’m good from here,’ she said at the top. I put myself between her and the gathering audience until she was seated. Hannah followed behind. Out in the hall, I could see Desi, Vicky and Mina talking.
I sat on Cora’s right and said, ‘That illusion was neatly done, but was it wise to come here at all?’
‘No choice,’ she said. ‘Pour me some water, will you?’ I poured, and she took some pills. ‘I’m trying to do without the addictive ones. By the Goddess, it hurts. I suppose you’d know all about that.’
‘One reason I started smoking again was to help with opiate withdrawal.’
She grunted. ‘It’s the late Warden’s cremation on Friday. After the ceremony’s over, Oldcastle is going to call a Board meeting. Choosing a new Warden is the only item on the agenda.’
Cora is Dean of the Invisible College and responsible for magickal education. An important job, yes, but she’s only been in post for two years. The Warden’s job is bigger than just the College: the Warden of Salomon’s House is the de facto senior Mage in Britain.
‘That’s a bit quick, isn’t it?’ I said.
She took another drink and grimaced. ‘They don’t choose at the first meeting. They’ll just declare the vacancy open.’
‘Then what?’
‘Any Mage of good standing can apply. Even you.’
‘A bit early for me. Don’t you have to be a Fellow at least?’
She shook her head. ‘No. You have to be a Mage, yes, but that’s not what puts people off. The Elder from the Daughters of the Goddess is a more powerful Mage than I’ll ever be, but she won’t take the Oath of Allegiance. The Occult Council have tried to make the Warden’s office exempt from the Oath, but it’s not their decision.’
‘You’re putting your hat into the ring, I presume.’
‘Yes. Then, at the next meeting of the Board, all applicants get five minutes to make their case. There’s a secret vote for every candidate, and all those with a positive score go on the ballot for election by the Fellows. I can’t afford to be out of circulation.’
‘Don’t overdo it, Cora. You’ve already had one relapse. I tried to do too much after the crash and nearly died of sepsis. I think it was Mina’s prayers to Ganesh that saved me.’
She looked out into the hall. ‘Is that her, over there?’
‘With Desi Haynes, yes.’
‘She’s … erm …’
‘Tiny. Yes, she is, next to Desirée, most women are.’
‘And even tinier next to you. Francesca says she’s been through a lot.’
‘She has, and yet she chose to get together with me.’
There was a burst of noise, and Hannah spoke up. ‘Here they come.’
The main procession from Salomon’s House began to file in from the Old Network. This was an informal meeting, so there were no gowns or strict precedence, but the senior academics led the way, and it was a very impressive turnout.
I went to the edge of the stage to say hello to Chris Kelly and accept a dinner invitation for a month’s time. ‘If Mina’s back from India,’ I added.
He looked alarmed. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Fine, but I’ll need to be flexible.’
‘Good luck.’
Vicky reluctantly made her way to the stage and the Dean got out some notes. There were now about a hundred Mages in the hall, forty of whom were final year undergrads, or Candidates in the Salomon’s House terminology. Over two thirds were women.
Cora leaned over and said, ‘I’ll introduce you. After your bit, I’ll ask the first question, and I’ve primed Selena to ask the second. After that, you’re on your own.’
I nodded, and she tapped her glass twice. With a deep breath, she levered herself upright and smiled.
‘Welcome to this joint Salomon’s House-Merlyn’s Tower seminar. The Constable will be speaking to the Candidates later, and I’m glad to welcome Watch Officer Robson, whom many of you know. Her part in recent events isn’t as well known as it should be, and that’s something that the Constable will address.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Our principal speaker today has a unique title, one that hasn’t been held for centuries, and one that he prefers not to use himself – Dragonslayer. Instead, could you please welcome Squadron Leader Conrad Clarke, Watch Captain at Large and Swordbearer to Clan Flint.’
There was a gratifying amount of genuine applause from the hall as I stood up. I laid out a sheet of paper that Hannah had given me with things that I couldn’t say. Across the top, in red pen, was this instruction: NO JOKES.
Spoilsport.
‘Thank you, Dean, and thank you all for coming. I’m not sure what interests you most in all this, so I’m going to keep it short and give you more time for questions.’
The story of what happened with the Dragon Welshfire and the Druids of MADOC is one I’ve told elsewhere. I gave the company of Salomon’s House an edited version that was heavy on magick and light on criminal conspiracies, except for one detail. This is how I finished:
‘Four Mages died in Wales, including one of our own, Watch Captain Price. Watch Officer Robson was seriously injured. However, one of the Druids fled, and if you ever hear of the Bard Adaryn ap Owain, also known as Imogen Jones, then please contact the Constable. Thank you.’
I got more applause, and Cora said, ‘Thank you. Perhaps you could describe Welshfire in more detail?’
I did. The Dragon I fought was a cross between a crocodile, a T Rex and an ostrich. And an orbital rocket, of course. Crocodiles are scary, but they don’t breathe fire.
Cora threw it open to the floor, and chose the aristocratic Selena Bannister for the first question.
‘Watch Captain, I ask this in a spirit of open enquiry and not as a personal slight. Are you sure it was a Dragon?’
That was a jaw dropper. All I could manage was, ‘Erm…’
‘Let me explain. All the images and records of Draco Albinensis, from magickal and mundane sources, are agreed that it has four legs and wings. The creature – the deadly creature – that you fought had only two legs and wings.’
I felt a twinge in my leg, and I remembered the vicious assault that Vicky had inflicted on Friday. It was time for payback. ‘I think that Officer Robson is better qualified than me to answer that question.’ I sat down quickly, before she could bottle it, and if looks could kill, I’d be deader than the Dragon.
She got up slowly and cleared her throat. I was very conscious that these were her peers and her teachers. This was her crowd, not mine, and talking about Welshfire could only bring back the trauma of her near-death experience.
‘As you know,’ she began, ‘I’m an Imprimatist.’ She coughed again and reached for her water.
I desperately wanted her to get this, but if I spoke out, it would only undermine her, so I whispered, ‘Shove it up ’em, Vic. Give it large or I’ll make a joke about your tattoo.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
I pushed down on the arms of my chair and rose an inch out of my seat.
‘Yes!’ she shouted. ‘Ahem. Sorry. Yes, it was a Dragon. I examined the altar at the Caerleon Grove and the temporary nest in Bardsholm, and compared the residual imprints. It was definitely a Dragon.�
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‘So…’ said Selena.
‘It was very immature. Either Dragons create their own Glamours when they mature – which is very possible – or it grows front legs after the hunt. Sadly, Welshfire wasn’t just killed, she was vapourised, so I didn’t get to examine her in detail.’
Vicky sat down abruptly, and I said, ‘Well done.’
‘I hate you.’
The next question was one I could answer on my own (it was about the Lions of Carthage who guard the Dragon nests), and on we went. I deflected several questions about the Druids, emphasising how we’d only succeeded in the end because their leader had backed the King’s Watch rather than the members of his own Order who’d hatched the Dragon.
The next question that really threw me came from one of the Candidates.
‘Saffron Hawkins,’ she said, when the Dean called her. ‘Are you sure about the Dragon’s diet? Is it true that they only attack humans because they’ve been trained to eat them?’
Vicky had found the confidence to answer several questions quite happily by this point. I looked at her, and she shrugged.
I pulled my lip and gave it some thought. ‘I know that the final sacrifice – the human sacrifice – was crucial. I know that because they tried to sacrifice Officer Robson, and when she stopped them, one of the Druids sacrificed herself instead. I also know that Welshfire only said one thing to me: “Where’s the girl?” She was annoyed that she hadn’t had her promised meal.’
Saffron politely put her hand up again, and I signalled for her to go ahead. She brushed back a mane of blond hair and said, ‘So it may be possible to have a Dragon that isn’t a humanophage?’
Vicky and I both shrugged at that one.
Before the next question, I noticed the Custodian, Heidi Marston, grabbing her neighbour’s hand to stop him speaking. What was that all about?
Finally came the question we’d prepared for most.
‘Where did the egg come from, and are there any more of them?’ said a woman whose name I didn’t catch.