But it has to be done, I thought, as I changed into a labourer’s outfit. Sir Griffon had clothes for every occasion. No one else is going to do it.
“Make sure you hide some money about your person,” Caroline said. She passed me a pouch, crammed with gold coins. We’d have to get them changed. Golden Crowns were rare in Water Shallot. “And hide your tools in your bag.”
“Yes, Mum,” I said. “I won’t forget.”
My stomach twisted again as I dropped the spellcaster, spellbinder, spellbreaker and multitools in the bag. If I was caught with them ... the City Guard would assume I was a cat burglar or a safecracker. Perhaps even the wardcrafter who’d kidnapped Cathy ... it felt like years ago. I hoped she was recovering - I kicked myself, mentally, for not inquiring - as I pulled my bag over my shoulder and looked at Caroline. She looked like a housewife, complete with a pinafore and her hair worked into an elaborate bun that made it clear she was married. I hoped no one realised she wasn’t. People could get very unpleasant if they thought they were being given mixed or false messages.
“Cute,” I commented. “But your hands are a little too smooth.”
Caroline made a face. “And what do you suggest I do about them?”
“Use a glamour,” I suggested. A lower-class woman would have spent most of her life cooking and cleaning with her hands. Caroline’s hands, on the other hand, didn’t suggest any kind of manual labour. “And don’t make it obvious.”
Sir Griffons was waiting for us downstairs. “Use the rear door and make sure you cast an obscurification spell before you leave,” he said. “And wherever you stay, make sure you ward it as thoroughly as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “We could always stay with my family.”
“If you feel that’s wise.” Sir Griffons met my eyes. “Don’t forget just how much trouble you could bring down on their heads.”
“Yes, sir.” I lowered my eyes. “I won’t forget.”
We cast a handful of spells over ourselves, then walked out the back door. There was an edge in the air, fewer people on the streets as we made our way to the bridges. I was uncomfortably aware of eyes following us, men and women thinking we didn’t belong anywhere near North Shallot. The obscurification charms were working too well. I twisted them carefully, trying to avoid notice. It didn’t work. The stares didn’t go away until we crossed the bridge into Water Shallot.
Caroline glanced at me as we walked past the shops. “You think they’ll just let us rent a room, no questions asked?”
“Yes.” I grinned at her. “We pay. They give us whatever we want.”
A line of guardsmen marched past us as we headed further into Water Shallot, holding their weapons at the ready. A couple looked to have been in the wars. I guessed citizens had stood on the roofs and hurled slates at the guardsmen. They glowered at us, but said nothing. They’d probably had enough trouble for the day. I said nothing as we chose a seedy-looking inn and stepped inside. The innkeeper wouldn’t ask any questions. It was quite clear he was bending the law, if not breaking it outright. His inn was so cramped that a single fireball would probably turn it into a towering inferno.
I spoke briefly to him, crossed his palm with silver, then accepted the room keys and allowed his serving girl to lead us upstairs. The room was cramped and smelt faintly of illicit potions, but I didn’t care. Let him think we were running away from home or having an affair. I didn’t care. It would provide cover for our real activities.
“That girl isn’t old enough to go to school,” Caroline observed. “I’d be surprised if she was in her second decade.”
“Kids here start working young,” I said. I was surprised she didn’t know that. My sisters -and I - had been working from the moment we could toddle from place to place. “It’s cheaper to put your kids to work than hire someone who might want to be paid a living wage.”
Caroline looked discontented, but kept her thoughts to herself. I wondered, not for the first time, where she’d been born and raised. Somewhere outside Shallot, I knew, but where?
I put the question aside as I unpacked my bag. “The devices had to come from somewhere,” I said, again. “And we know where to start looking.”
“Assuming you trust Malachi Rubén,” Caroline said, tartly. “He’s a creep. If he told me it was sunny outside, I’d be sure to carry an umbrella.”
“It’s a good place to start,” I said. I finished warding the room, concealing most of our tools under the bed. The innkeeper might try to search our bags ... I smiled. He’d be in for a nasty surprise if he did. I just hoped he didn’t send his daughter to search instead. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Someone - Magister Niven, I thought - had once told us that we didn’t know what we had until it was gone. I’d never understood that saying until we crossed the bridge into South Shallot. Normally, it was rare for anyone to be searched, let alone arrested, as they moved from Water Shallot to South Shallot. Now ... we had to endure the attentions of the guardsmen as they checked everyone who thought they had business in South Shallot. I wanted to kill the bastards as they groped us both, then sent us on our way. They didn’t have to be so unpleasant.
I was still in a vile mood as we walked past Jude’s and headed towards Broadway Avenue, where the magical traders did their business. It had fascinated me as a young boy, starting my first term at Jude’s, although I’d rapidly come to realise that the storekeepers were quite happy to cheat students who didn’t have the wit to realise they were being overcharged. I scowled as I walked past a bookshop, remembering how the owner had chased me out years ago. It wasn’t a lending library, he’d said. But I’d barely been able to afford even the basic textbooks for each year. It just wasn’t fair.
The street seemed almost deserted, somewhat to my surprise. It was summer, I supposed. I’d only ever visited while Jude’s was in session. I stopped outside the apothecary and frowned. The sign above the door - TRAVIS - looked as if it was permanently on the verge of falling down. The window was crammed with small jars, labels advertising everything from herbal teas to basic solidified potions. I’d known students who swore by potions to sharpen their memories before exams. I might have been tempted myself, if I hadn’t known the effects rarely lasted long enough to be useful. The invigilators never allowed us to bring learning aids into the room, anyway.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Caroline followed. The scent of spices and herbs wafted across my nostrils, making me think - suddenly - of home. I wasn’t sure why. Father might sell spices, but he rarely used them. It wasn’t until Toni had learnt to cook that we’d had anything more adventurous than bland fish and blander chicken.
A small girl stood beside the counter, eyeing me with a perplexed expression that - I was sure - concealed a sharp mind. I thought she was actually some years older than we were, but she was so slight it was hard to be sure. She didn’t look like a potioneer. I would have bet good money she was actually a shopgirl. Her hair glistened too brightly for it to be natural. Toni had experimented with hair-colouring potions too. They’d never looked natural.
“Good afternoon,” she said. Her voice held a surprising hint of North Shallot. “What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to speak to the manager,” I said. I pushed as much authority into my voice as I could. “Rebecca Travis?”
“She’s in the brewing chamber,” the girl said. She started towards a wooden doorway, then stopped herself and turned to face me. “Who should I say is calling?”
“The Kingsmen,” I said, holding up my hand so she could see the ring. “We’ll see her upstairs, if you don’t mind.”
The girl twitched, then opened the door and scurried into the next room. I winced, feeling like a bully. The poor girl might have a hint of an aristo accent, but I was pretty sure she didn’t have even a hint of aristocratic blood. I guessed she’d grown up in one of the Great Houses, probably as a servant’s daughter. She might have picked up the accent wi
thout ever being told it was unseemly. If she’d been a child, it was unlikely the adults would have tried to beat it out of her.
“If you’ll come this way,” the girl said. “She’ll see you now.”
I looked around with interest as she showed us into a well-equipped potions lab. Two walls were covered with shelves, lined with hundreds of jars of potions ingredients. A sink and disposal tube sat in one corner, next to a small collection of cauldrons and measuring jugs; a large door, coated with iron, presumably led down to the ironhold. A single lantern hung high overhead, a candle burning bright within the glass. Rebecca Travis clearly didn’t take risks. A magical light might not affect the brewing, but why chance it? There were limits to how many wards she could weave around such a small chamber.
Rebecca Travis herself was striking. She stood behind a table, eyes resting on a bubbling cauldron. She was tall and willowy, her almond eyes, long dark hair and tinted skin marking her as a half-caste. She wore a simple dress that was covered in potion stains, concealing her curves in a manner that reminded me of Louise. She was definitely a few years older than either Caroline or myself, yet she looked timeless. There was something odd about her, although I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t her appearance. It was something else.
“Welcome,” she said, carefully. She’d been born and raised in Water Shallot. The accent was unmistakable, even if it had been diluted slightly over the years. I felt a rush of fellow-feeling. She might have accepted patronage, but she’d clearly done well for herself. It was no small achievement for an ancestor-less half-caste. “Please give me a moment.”
I watched as she poured a pinkish liquid into a large bottle, then sealed the top with a simple charm. It smelt of flowers, suggesting she was brewing perfume. I hoped she wasn’t breaking the laws on just how much enchantment one could weave into perfume. It was quite easy to blend a basic love potion into a perfume, then sit back and enjoy the results. It was also thoroughly illegal.
Caroline had the same thought. “I trust that perfume is legal?”
“It’s a slightly modified version of Flower in Bloom,” Rebecca told us. “It doesn’t break any of the laws.”
“As long as it isn’t mixed with a handful of others,” Caroline pointed out. “What else are you selling your customer?”
Rebecca’s eyes flickered up, then down. “Just Flower in Bloom.”
“Good,” Caroline said.
I cleared my throat. “We need to ask you some questions,” I said. “First, why have you been selling discounted potions in Water Shallot?”
Rebecca seemed surprised by the question. “Because the people there need them, but cannot afford them,” she said. “I devised a handful of tricks to make mass-production possible. My overhead is covered by sales here.”
“For which you charge full price,” Caroline said, flatly. “What sort of potions do you sell?”
Rebecca studied her for a long moment. “Do you have a warrant?”
Caroline made a show of lifting her eyebrows. “A warrant?”
“A warrant,” Rebecca repeated. “A court order authorising you to ask questions and demand answers ...”
“There’s a state of emergency underway,” Caroline said. She was careful not to suggest we were operating alone, technically against orders. “We have authority to ask whatever questions we like.”
“Oh.” Rebecca’s lips thinned, as if she was considering telling us to go to hell anyway. “I sell strengthening potion, contraceptive potion, smoothing paste and ...”
“Nothing more interesting?” Caroline cocked her head. “Nothing ... special.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “Why?”
“Have you sold anyone anything special?” Caroline pressed her advantage. “Anything that might release a surge of magic?”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “What are you asking?”
I leaned forward. “You run an apothecary,” I said. “Have you been asked to source something - anything - from the restricted list?”
“Of course.” Rebecca eyed me, warily. “I get requests for illicit ingredients all the time. And I tell them, when they fail to produce the right paperwork, that I can’t sell them what they want. They generally stamp off in a rage.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “Who and why?”
“Students, mostly,” Rebecca said. I had the impression there was something she wasn’t telling us. “The aristos generally have their own apothecaries. They don’t need me.”
“Even your patrons?” Caroline met her eyes, staring her down. “Do they ever ask you for anything?”
“No.” Rebecca scowled. “We rarely talk.”
I frowned. That couldn’t possibly be true. Setting someone up in an apothecary - particularly here, so close to Jude’s - was expensive. Very expensive. House Bolingbroke might be wealthy enough to buy and sell a hundred apothecaries without ever noticing the price, but they wouldn’t invest so much money without demanding something in return. Rebecca was lying to us. She had to be. I felt my previous goodwill drain away. She was trying to lie to us.
“You’re lying,” I said. My voice sounded ugly, even to myself. “I know you’re lying.”
Rebecca lowered her eyes. “I am not.”
I stared around the room. “Tell me something,” I said. “If I was to search your ironhold, how many illicit ingredients would I find? Dragon Scales? Basilisk Eyes? Powdered Unicorn Horn? Human Blood? Would I find enough to justify throwing you in jail?”
“I have permits for everything in the shop,” Rebecca said. Her voice shook. “And blanket permission to work with rare and expensive - even restricted - ingredients.”
I kept my face hard, even though I felt like a heel. I was pushing her... was I any different, really, from a guardsman who wanted to take advantage of his uniform? I was trying to find a bunch of terrorists, but ... I pushed my doubts to one side. I needed answers. I needed to know what she was lying about. And why.
She couldn’t have lied about getting blanket permission, I told myself. That would be a matter of public record. We’d have no trouble checking.
“Someone supplied the potions ingredients that were used to unleash a surge of tainted magic,” I said. “Two surges of tainted magic. Did they come from you?”
Rebecca straightened, meeting my eyes. “I didn’t supply anything to anyone without a valid permit.”
“Good.” I let out a breath. That was true, I thought. I was starting to think we’d been sent on a wild goose chase. Except ... she had lied to me about something. Or she’d chosen not to mention something. “Do you have a register of customers?”
“Yes.” Rebecca turned to the door. “Jill! Bring the red book!”
The shopgirl hurried into the room, carrying a large red tome. Her eyes flickered from me to Rebecca and back again, hardening as she realised I’d upset Rebecca. Jill seemingly had a crush on her boss ... I wondered, absently, if Rebecca was aware of it. She hadn’t cut her hair short. But then, neither had Jill.
I opened the book and skimmed the last few pages. Rebecca had better handwriting than I did. She’d had to read every permit and sign off on every purchase. My eyes narrowed as I read the list. She’d handled everything necessary to unleash a burst of tainted magic and then some. My eyes slipped to the ironhold door. Had she sold something off the books? Or had she been robbed? She was in South Shallot. There were so many magicians in the district that, in some ways, she was being terrifyingly lax.
“As you can see,” Rebecca said, “everything was pre-authorised.”
“So it seems,” I said. It was possible Rebecca had been tricked, that she’d been given a forged permission slip, but that would hardly be her fault. “Have you lost anything? Or had it stolen?”
“People don’t steal from this shop,” Jill said. I nearly jumped. I’d forgotten she was there. “We have protections.”
“We’ve never lost anything,” Rebecca confirmed. “And all our records are in order.”
&nb
sp; “Quite.” Maybe we were wasting our time. “Tell me, do you know someone called Malachi Rubén?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No.”
“I met him once, at Bolingbroke Hall,” Jill put in. “He wasn’t a very nice man. He never got invited back.”
I frowned. Malachi Rubén had sent us to Rebecca. Had he been trying to be helpful or ... or what? Take revenge on House Bolingbroke? We hadn’t found anything that might be embarrassing to the family. If it was a plot, it had clearly misfired. Or ...
Caroline made a hand signal. We’re wasting time.
I studied Rebecca for a long moment. She’d lied to me about something. What?
“If you were looking for something you couldn’t get legally, something on the banned or restricted list,” I said carefully, “where would you go?”
Rebecca flinched. It was barely perceptible, but it was there. She clearly hadn’t been raised in a Great House. Whoever had raised her hadn’t taught her to conceal her true feelings. And that meant ... I’d put my finger on something important. I just needed to tease it out.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Rebecca said, carefully. “I ...”
“I think you do,” I said. “I think you’d have an idea where to look, even if you never actually did. And I think you could tell me where to look.”
Rebecca stared at me for a long moment. “And if I refuse to talk?”
“We have the power to force you to talk,” Caroline said, coldly. Her voice betrayed no hint of our weakness. “Where would you look for something on the banned list?”
“I wouldn’t,” Rebecca said. She looked at the ground. “But, speaking completely off the record, I might ask Zadornov.”
The King's Man Page 26
