Nine of Wands

by Mark Hayden

  ‘She died on Saturday, while I was under arrest. I agreed not to fight the deportation if they let me attend the funeral. Ha! I have now brought more disgrace on the Guptas than even Maamajee thought possible. Turning up to the funeral handcuffed to a police officer was a master stroke.’

  ‘I am so sorry, love.’

  ‘I know. And I am so sorry. I could see it on all their faces, you know.’

  ‘Whose faces?’

  ‘Hannah. Cora. Ruth, even, and above all, Vicky. They were all as worried about you as they were about me.’ She held up a hand. ‘Don’t deny it, Conrad. It’s good. Accept it. I do. I am so sorry I couldn’t tell you what was happening, but the Sword of Brahman are like you. They follow their own laws. They would let me contact no one.’

  ‘I was on the verge of coming to look for you.’

  ‘I guessed. That was another reason to get out. There are two good things to come out of this.’

  ‘Are you counting the controversial burn mark as one of them?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not a burn. I was tattooed with boiling ink. It was as bad as it sounds.’

  I couldn’t get my head round that. She patted my thigh. ‘It was over quickly. They made the four dots first, then gave me anaesthetic. Do you want to know the other good thing?’

  ‘I want to know everything.’

  ‘You will. The other good thing is that Papaji’s family have taken me in. Metaphorically speaking. I will tell you everything, after we have called Myvvy and you have told me how Stacey is getting on.’

  She cried more about Stacey than she did when telling me some of the terrible things that she’d been through. I listened all the way back to Elvenham, and after. Myfanwy had left food out and was spending the night with Ben, to give us some space. I still can’t believe some of it, especially that her real offence was entering a temple of magick whilst menstruating. Mina had put together some complicated deal involving her late father’s family, a priest, a divorce and a dowry. Mina’s slice of the action was supposed to be an Ancile.

  She was taken into a temple-within-a-temple, and things went from bad to worse. Just before they’d boiled the ink to tattoo her, the chief priest had said, ‘You have defiled the temple, and we shall defile you.’ On the way out, back in the public area, she had picked up a brass statue, smashed it into her escort and then run amok destroying some of the images. I don’t blame her.

  At the end of the story, I’d asked her how she felt about Ganesh after what she’d been through.

  She pointed to the troth ring on my right hand. ‘Some of those who claim to worship Odin are white supremacists. Some Christians, and many Muslims, are homophobic bigots. Some Hindus are patriarchal misogynists. The gods do not police their flocks in this life.’

  I have never been tattooed with boiling ink. I don’t know if I’d be quite as philosophical as Mina.

  She’d been forced to leave everything in India except the borrowed funeral clothes and her laptop. A cousin was going to send some of her stuff on. In the morning, she came down for tea and toast, then went back upstairs for a long bath. It was another hot day, and I went into the garden for the first time in weeks to see how the landscape gardeners had got on. I was not expecting to be greeted by a familiar voice.

  ‘Is that you, Conrad? It must be.’

  I turned round to find Erin Slater standing by the house. She’s that Witch from the Arden Foresters who Vicky and I met in the adventure of the Phantom Stag, the one who’d wanted to meet Myfanwy. She was carrying a battered, Victorian looking carpet bag. For that to have survived this long, it must be enchanted. I walked over. ‘Was Myfanwy expecting you?’ There was an edge in my voice. I couldn’t help it.

  She looked embarrassed. ‘She said you wouldn’t mind. I’ve been here every day this week.’

  ‘Didn’t she get in touch last night?’

  ‘There was a missed call, but she didn’t leave a message. Is there a problem?’

  ‘She’s at Ben’s. Do you know the way?’

  ‘Yeah. Can I leave my car here? The parking by his cottage is terrible. I’ll walk round and get out of your way.’

  ‘Sorry, Erin. Of course you can. We’ll catch up later, I’m sure. Myfanwy will explain.’

  Ten minutes later, Myvvy sent me the most apologetic text message I’ve ever received. Apparently, her old school friend Erica was wondering why she shouldn’t come round when she had no idea where Myfanwy lived. Myfanwy had sent last night’s message to the wrong person.

  Erica - Erin. Easy mistake to make. I made Mina a fresh cup of tea and took it up to the family bathroom.

  The mark on her arm was a neat line of blue ink and scar tissue. ‘It’s magick, too,’ said Mina, ‘but no one knows what will happen. It might just throb when I go to temple.’

  ‘Do you want to go away? We could check into a spa hotel until Monday.’

  She shook her head. ‘When I get out of this bath, I want to be normal. I want to go to the Inkwell tonight and drink wine. I want to go to ladies cricket tomorrow and kick those interlopers’ arses back to Allington. Hah! Our greatest enemy will not put cuckoos in our nest.’

  ‘Steady on, love. You’ve never been to Allington, never mind developed a life-long hatred of their cricket team.’

  ‘But you have. It’s the one thing that Jules Bloxham and I agree on.’

  ‘What else do you want to do?’ I asked.

  ‘Put down roots. Like a tree. Here.’

  ‘In the bath?’

  ‘Shut up and get my special shampoo. You can wash my hair.’

  Myfanwy came round the next morning, still full of apologies, and spent a long time in the garden with Mina. I served them lemonade and caught up with three weeks of domestic housekeeping. You know the sort of thing.

  One of the calls I had to return was to one of the extended team of Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars – people who have helped me out above and beyond the call of money. The Kirkhams were founder members, as was Alain Dupont, a French postgrad student in London. Alain can hold his nerve in very difficult circumstances and is an eloquent shrugger, both qualities I admire highly. I’ve tried to set him up with Vicky in the past. No luck so far.

  ‘Good news,’ he said. ‘I ’ave an interview with your sister’s company next week.’

  The world of wealth management is a bit like the world of magick: small and interconnected. My sister, Rachael, doesn’t have a Military Cross or the title Dragonslayer, but she’s an even bigger name in her world than I am in mine. I promised Alain that I’d get him an interview for a placement with Rachael’s firm, and I had. That left me with a debt to Rachael. I’m working on it.

  Erin reappeared in the afternoon and joined us for tea before women’s cricket practice. According to Myfanwy, Erin was a bit of a lost soul, and had been more or less evicted from her workshop in Stratford, where she practised the art of magickal Enscribing. Erin, too, was full of apologies when she arrived. I waved them away and sat her down in the kitchen.

  ‘Are things not too good in the Foresters?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m from Bristol, and I only went up to Henley in Arden to get away from the Daughters of the Goddess. I thought a mixed circle might be more fun. After Ioan died, it’s become so cliquey that I don’t fit in any more. I’m a bit of an outsider there. I’m still going to gatherings, but the guy who leased me space in his Scriptorium is a Materianist and he wanted shot of me.’

  ‘Serves you right for waving a shotgun at Aaron.’

  ‘Says the man who carries an automatic everywhere.’

  ‘Fair point. I tend not to make accusations without evidence, though.’

  She grinned. ‘Touché. You have a lovely house, Conrad, and Myfanwy’s great company.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve been working here all week. Don’t worry, I haven’t been in your study. We’ve actually set up a place in one of the stables, given that you haven’t got any horses in them. I was going to offer to pay, if you’ll have me.’

  I’d spe
nt a lot of money renovating the old stables recently. I’d hoped to have a horse in them, but I hadn’t got round to getting my paddock back from the farmer who rents it off me.

  ‘It’s not really designed for human habitation, and definitely not when the winter comes, but you can have it for nothing until the end of June, if Mina doesn’t mind, and we’ll see.’

  ‘Mina doesn’t mind,’ said Mina, appearing from the hall. ‘You must be Erin. Of course you can work here. More importantly, can you play cricket?’

  She could play cricket. Wonder of wonders, she was actually an excellent slip fielder. Since my last appearance, Clerkswell Ladies Cricket Club had become a legal entity and acquired its own kit. In two weeks’ time, they were going to play a friendly match against one of the teams from Cheltenham. One week after that, it would be very unfriendly.

  Clerkswell Men play in Division Two of the East Gloucestershire league. Every year, we also play one game against Allington, for the Clarke-Briggs cup. It’s been held annually for over a hundred and twenty years. If we’re in the same division as them, it’s presented after one of the regular league games, but for the last five years, they’ve been in Division One, and a special game has been arranged. We haven’t won it for ten years. That’s a long time.

  When Clerkswell host Allington in the special cup match this year, it will be preceded by a twenty over women’s game. I’ve already messaged Hannah and told her that only an imminent zombie invasion will keep me away. After tonight’s practice, the committee will be deciding who to appoint as captain. It’s a two horse race.

  I would gladly step down as bowling coach, if they could find anyone who could do the job half as well. They can’t, so I put them through their paces until it was time for a pint in the Inkwell while the committee met in the pavilion. Mina was more determined than ever to find out about magick, and dragged poor Erin into a corner to pump her for information while Ben and I made ourselves comfortable outside.

  ‘Who’s ended up on the committee?’ I asked after we’d compared notes on tonight’s practice.

  ‘Jules Bloxham is chair and Miss Parkes is honorary president, but she still gets a vote. Putting Nell forward for secretary was a cunning plan, too. Nell nominated Myfanwy to the committee on the grounds that the team was Myfanwy’s idea. No one could object to that. Jules got her friend to be treasurer.’

  The two other members of the committee were the vicar and a woman I’d never heard of. The two candidates for captain were, of course, Myfanwy and Juliet Bloxham herself.

  ‘How do you think it’ll go?’

  Ben made a sour face. ‘Myfanwy is going to refuse the nomination. She’d love to do it, but as she can’t leave the village, it would be a nonsense. She’s also going to ’fess up and say that she has an anxiety disorder that means she can’t travel. They’ll think she’s bonkers, of course, but you can’t argue with that, can you?’

  ‘She is bonkers.’

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t have her any other way. Cheers.’ We drank to Mad Myvvy and Ben asked if I wanted to be rotated into the team for tomorrow’s game. It was a home match, against difficult opponents.

  ‘Yes please. How are the wedding plans coming along?’

  ‘Don’t. Do you know what the prick did last weekend? He actually booked rooms at the Ellenborough for mum and dad, as well as him and Carole. They didn’t set foot in the village all weekend, and I had to go over there for Sunday lunch. At least with Myfanwy starting work in the shop she had a good excuse for not going down there. I pushed Isaac again to have the ceremony in St Michael’s, but he was adamant. The hotel have had a cancellation, and they’ve booked it for Saturday the twentieth of September.’

  ‘This year? That’s a bit quick, isn’t it. I thought weddings took at least eighteen months to organise.’

  He gave me a dark look. ‘Carole jumped at it. She said they’ve been getting on so well that she’d rather do it now.’

  I could not afford Isaac Fisher on my to-do list. If he were avoiding me – or Vicky, or Myvvy – for a good reason, it would come out sooner or later. I let it go with a grunt.

  ‘Sorry to hear about Mina’s mother,’ said Ben. ‘Myfanwy sometimes thinks I’m a carved ornament, you know.’

  Where had that come from? To my knowledge, Ben had never used an image like that before. ‘What d’you mean?’

  He put his pint down. ‘Mina disappears to India for weeks and goes off the grid. She comes back with no notice, and Myfanwy spends all day talking to her about it. Yet when I ask her what happened in India, Myfanwy gives me a load of rubbish about Bollywood films.’ He picked up his drink and finished it. ‘Another?’

  ‘Please. You have the patience of a saint, Ben. I’m not sure I could put up with it.’

  ‘It’s worth it. She’s worth it.’

  I turned to look away from the pub. The light was fading, casting its last shadows across the pub garden. The Inkwell borders a meadow, with a post-and-wire fence separating them. The wooden posts cast long shadows over the grass. Nine of them. You could almost say they were nine wands.

  Ben came back with Mina and Erin, as well as more drinks. Myfanwy wasn’t far behind. She said the committee had named her senior vice-captain, and we drank to that. Sometimes life’s pleasures really are that simple.

  The question of the day was this: What do you wear to meet a Dwarf?

  The answer of the day was NOT this: Well, I’d wear linen jacket and…

  Mina had not been happy with my first answer, so I’d pointed out that:

  a) England was in the middle of a heatwave and

  b) Dwarves work with white hot metal and have forges to heat it and

  c) the canal tunnels are cold, damp and draughty.

  Apparently, that was no help, so I shut up.

  Mina had opted for white trainers, black leggings and a loose red top with elbow-length sleeves. The mark on her arm didn’t hurt much, but she wasn’t quite ready for it to be seen in public. In a few moments, we’d find out what Saffron was wearing when the 10:32 from London arrived at New Street Station in Birmingham.

  ‘You must be used to this,’ said Mina.

  ‘What? Hanging around railway stations waiting for strange women?’

  ‘Give me strength! No. I meant having to work with someone new at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘Pretty much. In the RAF, I could be sure they’ve had the same training as me. Not this time.’

  ‘Is that her? With the hair? By Ganesh’s tusk, she looks so young. Or I am suddenly old?’

  ‘If you’re old, I’m ancient.’

  ‘You are.’

  It was Saffron. She had opted for a sportier but otherwise identical version of Mina’s outfit. She also had a backpack, a handbag and a large suitcase.

  ‘Has she packed for the apocalypse?’ said Mina.

  ‘Probably. I did say that there might be a few overnights.’

  I didn’t need to wave. Saffron headed over and I made the introductions before leading the way to the local train.

  ‘You were at the Dragon seminar, weren’t you, Mina?’ said Saffron. I mentally gave her a plus for observational skills, then remembered that she’d passed the assessment. Still good, though.

  ‘I was,’ said Mina. ‘Just keeping an eye on him.’

  ‘Does he need an eye keeping on him?’ said Saffron. There was a mixture of banter and concern in her voice. She was wondering what Vicky hadn’t told her.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Mina gravely. ‘And that will be your job soon. Good luck.’

  ‘You’re scaring her, Mina.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Saffron. ‘I’ll keep him in line.’

  The clapped out bone-shaker of a train that would take us to the heart of the Black Country was already spewing diesel fumes on to the platform. We climbed into the carriage along with night shift workers, students and a collection of pensioners suddenly eligible for their free travel. Mina grabbed a corner pair of facing seats, and Saffron built an intimi
dating wall of luggage.

  ‘How did your induction go?’ I asked.

  ‘Scary. I could feel the power in that well. I kept looking over my shoulder in case she appeared.’

  Saffron is a Watch Officer. She has a Badge of Office, and to get it she had to go down to the basement of Merlyn’s Tower and sign the Annex of Westphalia. In the centre of the basement is a well, and that well is one of the home’s of Nimue. Watch Captains, like me, have to drink from her hand. She is very scary.

  ‘And you have an Ancile?’ I asked that question because when I first met Vicky, neither of us had one. It nearly cost us both our lives.

  Saffron nodded, a gesture that went awry when the train jumped over a set of points. ‘Yeah. Auntie Heidi made me one when I was eighteen.’

  ‘Is that what you call her?’ said Mina, whose observational skills are second to none. She’d clocked Heidi Marston at Newton’s house.

  Saffron adjusted her hair. It was something she must do a lot. ‘Only to wind her up. At college, I have to refer to her as Custodian or I get in deep shit.’ She looked at Mina again. I’m sure she could sense the Ancile on her, and also that Mina is not magickal. She half formed a question in her head, then abandoned it and turned to me. ‘What’s the briefing for this mission? Just so I don’t put my foot in it.’

  All I’d said was that we were meeting a Dwarf, and I was reluctant to bring her any further in just yet. ‘Escort duty, mostly. Mina needs some information for a bigger operation. Depending on Niði’s answers, we may need to look elsewhere or we may have some business with the Gnomes. I trust Lloyd Flint, but we’ll be playing our cards close. OK?’

  ‘Gotcha. Right.’

  We arrived at the first stop. There were five more before we got to our destination, Coseley. A couple of students got on and sat behind us, so conversation turned away from magick. Mina did ask a lot of questions about Saffron’s background, and the poor kid got more and more embarrassed as Mina forensically dissected a childhood of privilege, private school and a fast track to the top table at Salomon’s House.

  When we got off the train, Saffron insisted on struggling alone with her bags up the ramp and over the bridge to the car park. We walked in front, and Mina whispered to me, ‘What on earth is she doing slumming it with the King’s Watch? No offence, but she’s either a spy or she has issues.’