The Heart of Hyndorin

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘That… is a very good question.’ I’d momentarily forgotten about Pup’s headlong gallop, while I was grappling with the morality of erasing an irreplaceable scroll versus leaving my friends to an unknown fate. What had Goodie been haring towards?

  Then something barrelled into me, something heavy, and knocked me flat. ‘Ves!’ said a familiar voice. ‘Don’t go in there!’

  ‘Zar?’ I pushed her off me, and tried to sit up, but she shoved me back down again. She had contrived to do the same to Jay, and we all three lay prone in the grass.

  Something tickled my ankle. When I lifted my head to investigate, I beheld a bundle of tufty yellow fur and an enormous nose, the latter in pursuit of an enchanting scent relating to my left foot.

  Ah. Pup had caught a whiff of Zareen on the wind, and boldly tracked her down.

  ‘Zar,’ I said again. ‘What the dickens are you doing here?’

  ‘Same as you,’ she said. ‘I was drawn here by wicked, deceitful arts, courtesy of our best friends Ancestria Magicka.’ She spoke with a vicious bitterness most out of character for her, and when I looked at her I beheld her usually calm face creased into a dark scowl. Her green-streaked hair was in a state of wild disorder; deep shadows under her eyes proclaimed her exhaustion; and she was pasty-pale, which wasn’t usual for her either. She’d had a hard week, clearly. But she was alive.

  I felt a knot of tension ease somewhere inside. I’d been worried about Zareen for some time, but with no idea where she had ended up and no way to follow, I hadn’t been able to do anything about it. ‘What happened to you?’ I said, but when I tried to sit up she pushed me back down again.

  ‘Ves, you can’t let them know you’re here. That’s what they want. They’re waiting for you.’

  ‘We know.’

  She blinked. ‘Then what the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Tell you in a minute. First, fill us in.’

  She sighed, and let her head fall back into the grass. ‘George and I were working on those trapped spirits in the castle, trying to calm them down. Get them together. Build them up for one last jump, to a permanent new location for the castle. Then we were going to release them.’

  ‘I remember that part,’ I said. ‘No joy?’

  ‘Actually, we were doing pretty well. Until Fenella Effing Beaumont showed up, with her miserable crowd of cronies. Apparently they remembered a few things.’

  ‘Ah. Then Melmidoc happened?’

  ‘Right. He got pissed, and banished the entire castle to the worst Britain ever, do not go there, I am not kidding. The entire castle, Ves, with me and George in it, and Fenella and co as well.’ She paused for an instant, then continued, ‘George declared himself “done” with being dragged around after me, and the “stupid” stuff we were doing, and abased himself before Fenella, who graciously welcomed him back into the fold. Which left me, hiding in the walls while the lot of them played hunt-the-chicken, and George tried to coax me to throw in my lot with them.’

  That explained both her exhaustion and her anger. I sensed a lengthy rant pending, but Zar got a grip on herself. ‘Long story short,’ she said. ‘It was some days before the castle could return to the fifth. In that time, I heard a few snatches of conversation between Fenella and some of her ratty disciples. They knew far too much about what you were doing, Ves. They probably knew about your current mission before you did. They had a plan to get hold of a certain scroll-case, which fell through; I didn’t catch why. The new plan was to lie low for a while, let you do the work while imagining yourselves unopposed, then swoop in at the end and swipe the goods.’

  ‘Which is where we’re at,’ said Jay, and gestured at the castle. ‘Swooping in progress.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t have to just walk in there like a pair of idiots! Why do you think I risked discovery, in order to wait here for you?’

  I patted her arm. ‘It was brilliant of you, Zar, and we’re both grateful and admiring. But they have Alban, and Miranda, and Emellana.’

  ‘Emellana. That the troll lady with the purple shirt?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Mm. That wasn’t anticipated, I think. Did you have to leave three associates on the outside, standing around by themselves, just waiting to be kidnapped? They were sitting ducks.’

  ‘Actually yes, it was necessary. We would have much preferred to take them with us.’

  ‘Well, I hope whatever you got was worth it. They’re all in there, and it won’t be easy to get them out.’

  ‘Yes, it will. We just have to do whatever they want.’ With which words, I stood up again, resisting Zareen’s attempts to render me prone, and dusted grass seeds off my clothes. ‘Which I intend to do without delay.’

  ‘You can’t.’ Zareen stared at me, appalled. ‘I don’t have a clear idea what you two got a hold of, except that it’s game-changing.’

  ‘World-changing,’ I said, nodding. ‘Don’t worry. I have a plan.’

  Zareen rolled her eyes.

  ‘She’s going to bluff,’ said Jay.

  ‘Bluff?’ repeated Zareen.

  ‘The timing will be tight,’ I said. ‘We need to make the trade, then get the lot of us out of there before they discover our sneaky double-cross.’

  Zareen stared at Jay, as if to say, are you going along with this madness?

  Jay shrugged. He’d gained his feet, too, and now fell in beside me. ‘Onward, captain.’

  Zareen groaned, and said distinctly, ‘Fuck my life.’

  ‘It’s a good life,’ I said, smiling. ‘It may not feel like it right now, but someday you’ll remember what food and sleep and friendship are like, and it’ll be okay again.’ I held out my hand to her, and with another muttered curse she grasped it, and permitted herself to be hauled up. ‘How long has the castle been lurking out here?’

  ‘A couple of days.’

  ‘Right. Let’s go.’ We set off towards Ashdown Castle, me trying to walk like a woman of confidence and not like a woman whose legs felt like jelly and whose guts were churning with unease. What if I was wrong?

  No time to worry about that now. I lifted my chin, and sailed towards the castle like I’d never heard the words reckless, mission-wrecking insanity in my life.

  Some distance still lay between us and the front door. As we crossed it, walking at a brisk but leisurely pace, I had ample opportunity to observe the effects of repeated teleportation upon the crumbling old castle. It had been in poor shape to begin with, due to centuries of insufficient care. Three or four jumps across worlds had not been good for it. Some of its chimneys were gone, tumbled into pieces; windows were a mess of broken glass and warped leading; holes had opened up in the walls, where its mortar had crumbled and brown bricks had fallen away. A building on its last legs, so to speak. It wouldn’t be long before the walls collapsed and ceilings caved in.

  I tightened my resolve. Ancestria Magicka had no respect for history, magickal or otherwise. No doubt they would do their utmost to justify themselves, and cajole us into taking their side. They wouldn’t receive an ounce of sympathy from me.

  Throughout that nerve-wracking stroll, I had the prickly feeling of eyes upon me. Lots of eyes. And here came the proof, for as we neared the great oaken doors, they swung slowly open.

  Fenella Beaumont herself stood upon the threshold, smiling graciously at us.

  ‘Welcome, Miss Vesper, Mr. Patel,’ she said smoothly. ‘And Miss Dalir. How charming of you to join us at last.’

  Zareen’s scowl deepened. Before she could say anything, I cut in. ‘Ms. Beaumont. How about we glide past the chit-chat, and get down to business? We’re here to retrieve our friends.’

  ‘Do you know, I thought you might be?’ Her smile widened, and so did the doors. ‘Do come in. They await you in the long drawing-room.’

  Invoking my Nerves of Steel, I followed Fenella Beaumont into the depths of enemy territory, Jay and Zareen and Pup right behind me.

  17

  The last time I’d seen Fenella Beaumo
nt, she had been wearing a flashy designer evening-gown and too many diamonds. She’d hosted a massive party for a large group of magickal invitees — including us — in this very castle, specifically for the purpose of breaking the news about the fifth Britain. Jay and Zareen and the Baron and I had wrecked her little coup, which hadn’t exactly made us popular with her.

  Her smiling friendliness unnerved me. So angry had she been about our interference, she’d taken an axe to poor Millie’s doors and windows. Now she welcomed us to her ancestral castle with impeccable manners and a smooth smile — the same castle Zareen had lately endeavoured to wrest from her entirely, with the help of George Mercer, supposedly one of her own employees. Was her friendliness purely because we had the answer to all her wildest magickal dreams in our possession? Fenella’s stated ambition was to revive magick in our own Britain, no doubt for nefarious purposes of her own. Torvaston’s invention would be as exciting to her as it was to us.

  Still, I would have expected at least a genteel insult or two, delivered through that smiling mouth. Her elegant self-possession was out of character for a woman capable of hacking through solid oak doors in a fit of temper, and her air of gracious welcome was over the top.

  And her captives now included all the people responsible for the collapse of her carefully-nurtured plans.

  ‘I do believe we’re in for a double crossing,’ I murmured to Jay and Zareen, as we followed Fenella through Ashdown Castle’s great hall.

  Jay agreed. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be as simple as hand over the scroll and high-tail it out of here.’

  Zareen’s only response was a black look of pure hatred. I wondered briefly what had passed between them during the days they’d been stranded in some other Britain together, and decided not to enquire.

  ‘You okay, Zar?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ she said shortly.

  Fair enough.

  Mission Objective: Retrieve Alban, Emellana and Miranda from Fenella Beaumont’s clutches, preferably without handing over any part whatsoever of Torvaston’s ancient research, then fly like bats out of hell. Before any of us went stark raving bonkers (again), or did anything we might regret; and without falling prey to any of Ms. Beaumont’s inevitable schemes for our downfall.

  Easy.

  The long drawing-room turned out to be a vision in sage-coloured silk and brocade, and in surprisingly good shape considering the tumbling-down state of the castle. It had the pristine, polished look of recent refurbishment, though since the room’s historic character had been meticulously preserved, it had to have been expensive. Very expensive.

  Was the entire castle scheduled for a similar upgrade? The money it would take to restore Ashdown to its original condition would run into breath-taking sums, and I wondered, once again, where Ancestria Magicka’s cash came from. The Beaumont family had sold the castle to the corporation, which Fenella claimed to have founded. But that sale had been made because the family was virtually destitute. Either Fenella had somehow made eye-watering sums of money while she’d been somewhere off the radar (and if so I seriously wanted to know how); or they had an incredibly wealthy backer somewhere. We still didn’t know who that might be.

  ‘Nice paint job,’ I said lightly as we walked in. ‘Must’ve cost a bit.’ I scanned the room as I spoke. Alban stood near the fireplace, leaning one arm against the mantelpiece. He looked up at the sound of my voice, and smiled, but there was tension in every line of his body, and the smile was strained and forced. Emellana sat in a huge armchair a few feet away, ostensibly her usual serene self, though with a watchfulness about her that I hadn’t before seen. She looked at me without smiling, and I could not read what might be going on in her mind. Both of them looked oddly docile, considering their predicament. Either they were under some kind of enchantment courtesy of Fenella, or they were planning something, and waiting for the right moment to strike. Which was probably our arrival.

  Things could get interesting, pretty soon.

  Miranda stood by the window, looking thunderous. She glanced at me, and looked away, but not before I’d got a glimpse of the terror that lay behind her rage. Hardly surprising either. She’d lately betrayed the Society in favour of Ancestria Magicka, then betrayed Ancestria Magicka in order to help the Society, and now she was surrounded by representatives of both. Not an enviable position to be in.

  Her own fault. I hardened my heart, at least for the present, and set that matter aside. We would get her out. What she did after that would be up to her.

  ‘It cost quite a bit,’ said Fenella drily, and waved a hand, indicating the glittering contents of her drawing-room as though she was personally responsible for the lot. ‘Like what you see?’

  Actually, I did. The room was a vision of possibility. All the castles and great houses of Britain could look like this, if only there was money enough. But there never was. Most of them mouldered away under minimal maintenance, and too many fell into ruin. ‘It’s magnificent,’ I said, with total honesty.

  She smirked. ‘What if I told you it wasn’t money that did this? Or, not only money.’

  ‘Then what was it?’

  ‘Magick.’ She stood between me and her hostages, watching me like some kind of widow spider. She was more casually dressed than she’d been the last time we had met, in a blouse and trousers, her silvery hair caught up in a simple knot. But she still reeked of money, and she had the predatory air to match.

  ‘So it’s illusion?’ I said, disappointed. Fakery was of little practical use.

  ‘No. Everything that you see here is real.’

  ‘I’m confused. You used magick to reupholster some chairs…? I suppose, if you’ve got the manpower—’

  ‘You aren’t thinking, Ves.’ Fenella cut me off.

  ‘Don’t call me Ves,’ I snapped.

  ‘Ves,’ said Alban. ‘They’ve used magick to regenerate everything in this room.’

  ‘Regenerate?’

  He met my eyes, and nodded. He didn’t have to say anything else. My mind was already reeling.

  See, regenerating damaged or decayed objects — or creatures — is one of the many arts we’ve just about lost. If it ever existed within the realms of possibility at all, and there are multiple schools of thought on that topic. It’s why the Society employs ordinary doctors, like Rob, despite having some of the most powerful magickal practitioners alive on its payroll. It’s why the team Miranda used to head up included a couple of veterinarians, and why we have conservators and restorers on the staff. Regenerating anything that’s broken or injured would require such huge expenditures of magick, it hardly bears thinking about. I mean, can you imagine what it would take, to turn back the clock like that?

  There simply isn’t magick enough left in the world.

  ‘That has to be a lie,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ said Fenella. ‘Possibilities abound beyond the borders of our own Britain. You have seen that for yourself.’

  That silenced me. I hadn’t previously had any clear idea as to what Fenella and Co might want to do with Torvaston’s magick-regulating project, but I’m fairly sure the word “nefarious” passed through my thoughts.

  This wasn’t nefarious. This was brilliant.

  And exactly the right thing to wave in front of me, curse her.

  ‘Well, great,’ I said briskly. ‘Good for you. Anyway, about our colleagues?’

  ‘Perhaps they would like to remain here,’ said Fenella, in her silkiest voice. ‘Perhaps you might, too.’

  ‘No,’ said Jay briefly.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Another subversion attempt? No, thank you. We are never going to be interested.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Fenella politely. ‘At least one of your number has not been quite so impervious, has she?’ She looked at Miranda, whose face darkened even further. ‘And your own loyalties have proved to be more… flexible, than might have been expected.’

  Damnit. Here was the backlash from Milady’s clever, Ministry-dodging schemes. As fa
r as Fenella knew, we had abandoned the Society some weeks ago: ostensibly in favour of founding our own rival organisation, though now we were here under the Troll Court’s aegis. If we appeared unreliable, it was kind of our own fault.

  ‘We are not interested,’ I said firmly. ‘We want to make the exchange and then leave. Please.’

  Sadly, Fenella shook her head. ‘How heart-breaking it is, to watch so remarkable a group waste your talents on such backward-thinking organisations. Bring Torvaston’s work to us. Give us exclusive control over it. We will do all the beautiful, magnificent, world-changing things the Court would never countenance. And you can be a big part of that, Ves.’

  ‘Don’t call me Ves.’

  She gave a tiny sigh, and looked at Jay, and then Zareen. Both of them shook their heads.

  I felt a moment’s unease. Clearly she had been having this conversation with Alban, Em and Miranda before we had arrived. They had refused — surely?

  Of course they had. Emellana was as steady as a rock, and she’d been loyal to Mandridore all her long life through. And Alban’s devotion to his adoptive parents could not be questioned, considering everything he had taken on — and given up — for them.

  I wasn’t sure about Miranda, and she would not meet my eye.

  ‘You’re getting Torvaston’s research anyway,’ I said to Fenella. ‘Just as soon as you release our friends. And then we will be leaving.’

  ‘I would prefer to have… everything.’

  ‘That is not going to happen.’

  ‘A pity,’ said Fenella, her smile still in place. She held out her hand. ‘I will take whatever it is you retrieved from that tower, then.’

  ‘The artefact no longer exists,’ I told her. ‘Torvaston destroyed it. But we have his plans.’ I withdrew the delicate scroll from my bag, and offered it to her. ‘Release our companions, and you may take it.’ And please don’t look at it now.

  She made no move to do so. ‘Lovely,’ she said, regarding me with narrowed eyes. ‘But what a pity that the artefact no longer exists.’