The Pyramids of London

by Andrea K Höst

  It didn't seem that was what Dem Makepeace wanted, though, since he simply straightened again. Eluned discovered why he'd thought it necessary when a tiny scraping sound behind them was all the warning she had before the amasen arrived.

  Enormous snakes. Enormous snakes with curling golden horns. The first came from Eluned's right, rearing up to look at her. Thicker than a man's leg, and a pale cream in colour, with a very black tongue that flickered an inch from Eluned's nose. She let her breath out in shock, but also in wonder, for its fluted head and dark eyes were beautiful.

  But it was an act of will to stay still as another slid between her and Griff, and she felt the weight and warmth of it brushing past. It looped around her brother and nuzzled his hair, and Eluned reminded herself desperately that the amasen were signs of great good fortune, that they brought bountiful harvests and drove away pests, and would shed their golden horns and leave them as gifts for those particularly favoured, and that a dozen of them, in shades of green and brown and cream, surely meant that the Tenning family would be lucky for years to come if only they could get through the next few minutes without screaming.

  Dem Makepeace, barely visible among the coils, scratched one between its horns, and it closed its eyes and tilted its head like a dog whose most particular itch had been attended. Greatly daring, Eluned copied the gesture, and found the patch between the horns was soft and velvety. The cream amasen leaned into her touch until a pale green fellow pushed it out of the way, and then she had four of them competing to be petted, and Eleri was cautiously taking on two, and they exchanged a glance that clearly said: "We must never tell Griff about this."

  Aunt Arianne was coming down the slope, herded by a particularly large green and tan amasen, and with a much smaller creamy-pale one wrapped around her throat like a too-tight scarf. When she reached the bottom all but that small one slid away, and as they moved the air seemed to pulse. All the moths sprang into the air, and beat chaotically upward, taking most of the light away.

  "Watch," Dem Makepeace said, again leaning to address Griff, though Eluned's eyes had not yet adjusted enough to see Griff's reaction. He did not move, at least, and his breathing remained steady, but under starlight alone, Eluned could only make out broad shadows. The shape of Dem Makepeace as he straightened. The outline of Aunt Arianne as she knelt to Eluned's right. Antlers.

  The Horned King could be man or hart, and at first Eluned could not decide which of these followed Aunt Arianne down from beneath the Oak, was only certain of the antlers, wide and many-pointed. Two silver torcs hung glimmering from the tines, swaying with the motion of the god's approach. The air shuddered with every step.

  The hart form, a stag at the height of his strength. He walked directly up to Eleri, and dropped his great branched head to examine the automaton sitting on the ground in front of her, snorted like a thunderclap, and then was lowering over Eluned, inside her head.

  That was the only way to describe it. Cernunnos sorted through her thoughts, her feelings, her self, examining the request to visit his kingdom, shaking aside petty words to lay bare the loss, the fury, the sense of being broken, that had weighed on Eluned ever since Aunt Arianne had told them Mother and Father had died. How a part of her she'd thought central had curled up and vanished, and Hurlstone was so full of all the things she usually loved that it filled her with the belief that the missing part would come back.

  The Horned King threw back his heavy head, the twin torcs ringing, and shattered the air with his cry—the stag's harsh bellow accompanied by a genuine thunderclap out of a clear sky. The sound pounded the ears, so close to a literal blow that Eluned almost didn't feel a tinier hurt, but she looked down to see the small amasen, a pale rope sliding toward Dem Makepeace. The flesh between Eluned's left thumb and forefinger throbbed.

  When she raised her head, Cernunnos was gone, and they were just a line of people kneeling at the base of a hill topped with a tree, and as in a dream Eluned followed along as Dem Makepeace told them it was time to go, and led them silent along the path, pausing only to prop the automaton on a stone pillar, guarded by the small amasen, before they returned to Forest House.

  The warmer air brought Eluned back to herself, and she gasped and looked confusedly at a pale sky candy-striped by dawn. Then Aunt Arianne held her right hand next to Eluned's left so they could compare matching snake bites. And, as they raised those hands toward the ornate gate Dem Makepeace had closed, glimmering on the ghostly edge of tangibility, discover keys.

  Eleven

  Rian was magnificently out of sorts.

  She knew it for a nonsensical reaction. For the first time in her life she had been showered with good fortune. She had been given back her youth, and would enjoy the benefits of the Bound without the constraints and uncomfortable intimacy of the role. Physically she felt very good indeed, and she had gained both a home and financial stability. More, it promised to be a life of ease, involving a tiny amount of work and bringing with it privilege and respect. Cernunnos himself had appeared before her and accepted her in the role. On her new desk rested a formal letter of appointment, accompanied by a discreet outline of the terms of her position. And an invitation.

  Too many mixed feelings. They served no purpose so Rian set them and the letters aside, taking instead a fresh sheet of paper. All this oddity with Forest House was so much distraction. The important development was that Prytennia's deadliest spy had gone to Caerlleon to look over the circumstances of two deaths. Meanwhile, her energetic charges, after a day of recovery, were off asking innocuous questions at the nearest automaton workshops. To decide her own course, Rian needed to put her thoughts in order.

  The artificial fulgite was key, she was sure of it, but she had to think beyond whoever had given it to Eiliff and Aedric. Unsealing an old bottle of ink, she tested the liquid, found it serviceable, and made herself a list.

  1. Commissioned two automaton and provided round fulgite.

  2. Helped arrange the commission. Lyn(d)sey.

  3. Provided funding in envelopes from Sheerside House.

  4. Sabotaged industrial automaton's safety bindings.

  5. Stole/took delivery of special automaton and fulgite.

  6. Searched house/removed Commissions Book (when?).

  7. Asked Willa to buy items from estate sale?

  8. Sent sphinx shabti to Sheerside House. (Hatshepsu???)

  9. Targeted by sphinx shabti (for fulgite?). Princess Leodhild?

  10. Sent ravens. (Order of the Oak?)

  11. Sent bull-bear.

  This last entry worried her. As widely-travelled as she was, Rian had never heard of anything like that creature. And if that thing had been after the fulgite, then someone had decided that she or the children had it: a new development since there'd been no approach of that sort since the original search of the Tenning house.

  The jangle of bells interrupted, and Rian slid her list beneath the blotter. She was going to have to give serious consideration to day staff, and Dama Chelwith would no doubt have the ideal people, sitting waiting for the request. Rian would then be a person with servants. Another adjustment.

  Constantly picturing people as pulsing rivers of blood was perhaps the largest change, and three were waiting on the far side of the door. Expecting another helpful deputation of locals, Rian discovered instead three reasons to be pleased.

  "Evelyn! And Lyle! It's good to see you both again." Rian smiled at the two men, and the tall blond woman who could be no-one but the person Rian was most interested in speaking to.

  "Arianne!" Evelyn began, but then looked past her, eyes widening. "What in the world?"

  "Come in and gape," Rian invited, gesturing with the hat she'd carried down with her. "It's too distracting isn't it?"

  "I wasn't at all certain we'd found the right place," Evelyn said, stepping in and staring at the soaring ceiling and spectacular windows. "This is not what I expected from Makepeace. Inside or out."

  "Technically, I don't think h
e's ever lived here," Rian said. "But he has the disposition of it."

  "Remarkable," Lyle said, his stares as much for Rian's face as the room before he took himself in hand. "Arianne, I'd like you to meet my sister, Lynsey Blair. Lynsey, this is Arianne Seaforth."

  Lynsey, built on Nordic lines, was an inch or so taller than Evelyn, and kept her oat-coloured hair in two thick braids down her back. Her voice was warm, rich with a northern accent as she said: "I've been hearing a great deal about you."

  "Welcome to Forest House," Rian said, and very deliberately held out her hand to clasp the taller woman's in greeting.

  "I can see where the name comes from," Lynsey said, her grip firm and her dominant emotion a calm curiosity. No hint of recognition or guilt. "Are those real trees on the other side of the glass?"

  "Let me show you," Rian said. "Words are a little inadequate."

  Since the day was sunny, she settled her hat and veil before pulling back the heavy bar, and stayed in the shade of the doorway as her three visitors, exclaiming, walked beneath the trees. Had it been a false lead? Lynsey at first glance seemed a perfectly amiable person, possessing a poised dignity, and...and Rian had a weakness for tall women, and should not let that lead her into ready trust. Her not-entirely-reliable new senses were merely a starting point, and it would be stupid to rush to frank questions.

  Briefly closing her eyes, Rian listened to the shushing of the very top-most leaves. She couldn't ask for a better aid to her self-command than this oasis of calm. During the morning windstorm the grove had been scarcely disturbed, and the single folie present was tucked well back on the far side of the dividing wall. She had not so far unlocked the gate and ventured into the rest of the forest, but knowing it was there was a balm. And yet she had spent the day frowning.

  "The Deep Grove," Evelyn said, returning to Rian. "This is the Deep Grove, isn't it?"

  "You know of it? Dem Makepeace is the Keeper."

  "Truly? That's...not what I expected from him." Evelyn shook his head, smiled at his own astonishment, then tweaked the edge of her veil. "The sensitivity hasn't eased?"

  "It is, slowly, after growing somewhat worse. It's manageable so long as I stay out of direct sunlight.

  Lyle, hearing this as he returned with his sister, held out both hands, saying: "I was devastated to hear you'd been attacked, and the consequences of it. To be bound is bad enough, but in such circumstances, to a person you had no agreement with?"

  "Fortunately Dem Makepeace seems to be even less fond of the idea of blood service than you, Lyle," Rian said, ushering them back indoors away from the bothersome light. "He's willing to let the bond lapse."

  Or at least not further it, a point that she clung to given his apparent determination to infuriate her. The lack of warning and explanation had extended not only to the kind of vampire she would apparently inevitably become, but even what petitioning Cernunnos would entail. He'd thrown her into an act of allegiance hoping she would balk or fail.

  And yet she had to maintain some kind of link, or give up humanity altogether. Until he went to rept, she was part of him. His blood reproduced in her body, her ka attuned to his.

  Rian turned that fact over for the thousandth time as she served tea in the small, well-shuttered parlour off the kitchen, and told her guests a highly edited tale of her new role of delegate Keeper.

  "I don't think Dem Makepeace thought I'd be accepted," she said, swirling a few stray leaves around the bottom of her cup. "I suppose I don't give the impression of someone who's spent any time in forests."

  "Have you?" Lyle asked.

  "Oh, yes. My parents built their studio on the edge of the Cadell Forest. The house was constantly full of guests—artists—and it could get very rowdy. I'd find my peace in the forest, and that's something I've kept up no matter where I've travelled. Still, I had to think very hard about taking on this role, once I began to understand the level of allegiance I would be giving. It's rather more serious than a ten-year contract as a Bound."

  A monumental leap, in fact. She did not think this particular permanency the source of her general dissatisfaction, though it discomforted her that she didn't remember all of her encounter with Cernunnos. He had rested a hand on her forehead. There had been something, a wordless conversation that had left her turned inside-out. She could still feel the warmth of his touch, but the details had been rubbed over.

  Refocusing with effort, Rian smiled at Lyle and said: "What happened to being whirled off to Alba?"

  Evelyn answered. "He was whirled right back again when the Lord Protector heard about the Huntresses. Which is why I'm here as well, since Lord Msrah was called to London to, ah, welcome such prestigious visitors."

  "The…really? There are Huntresses in Prytennia?"

  "Five hands of them. They arrived last night." Evelyn cast a smiling glance at Lyle. "Prince Gustav's sources are impeccable. He reached London before Lord Msrah."

  The elite strike force of Egypt's military was made up entirely of vampires of the Sekhmet, Pakhet, and Bastet lines: the lioness, the caracal and the cat. There were few deadlier in combat anywhere in the known world.

  "They're...looking for the two sphinxes?"

  "Oh, no, they're here to offer Egypt's assistance in solving Prytennia's weather issues." Evelyn's face was alive with mirth. "Not a Shu among them! The afternoon papers are full of that little fact."

  "One day your love of drama will bite you somewhere awkward, Evelyn," Lynsey said. "What would you have done if Lord Msrah hadn't been called to London?"

  "Been very restless. But I am most fortunate in my Lord—not least for the chance to check on you, Arianne. I was picturing, well, not this."

  "I anticipated a garret," Rian said. "As it is..." She shrugged.

  "You're uncomfortable here," Lynsey said, to Rian's surprise.

  "Not precisely, but...I've been trying to work out why I'm not straightforwardly overjoyed with a Royal appointment falling into my lap. This house, and a salary far more than a competence, all for opening a gate every twenty-five years? I think the problem is it doesn't feel earned. As if I've cheated my way here. Or perhaps I'm angry that it's sat here empty for so long."

  "Wasteful," Lynsey agreed. "Though it seems to me that the role is more than opening a gate."

  "True enough. Controlling access, which seems to be a large issue, even within the neighbourhood. I've arranged for a noticeboard to be put up by the outer doors so I can post days the doors will be opened, and I was thinking of putting regular notices in newspapers, if only to stem the flood of letters. I received five yesterday and seven this morning asking whether I would permit joining ceremonies, along with a remarkable lecture from the Wise of Chalk Grove telling me I should not let people in, and to expect a deputation of the Wise. This is not at all what I thought to be doing."

  "You've the freedom to travel, though?" Evelyn asked. "More so than with Lord Msrah?"

  "There doesn't seem to be any bar against it. Though I expect to be relatively settled for the next few years." She smiled at Lynsey with a casual civility that would allow no hint of her deep interest. "You live in London? Evelyn mentioned that you're a member of the United Albion League. You believe there's a Dragon of the North?"

  Lynsey lifted a hand dismissively. "The dragons are beside the point. It's Arawn who grants access to Annwn, and his Hunt has repeatedly been witnessed over the border. We do not know what limits his territorial allegiance, or what will happen if we simply choose to join Alba and Prytennia under the name of Albion."

  "But the Suleviae are confined to the dragonates. They won't be able to defend the north."

  "Prytennia's airships have no such restrictions. Nor do the Nomarches, or, for that matter, the army. It would not be so secure as Prytennia under Sulis, but why not at least try it to see if it gains us territorial allegiance? Under a method less desperately divisive than the requirements of this ridiculous Protectorate."

  Evelyn chuckled. "You don't think Prince Gust
av will win himself a permanent nest?"

  "That vote only passed thanks to certain absences, and much stirring up of fear of Rome. It's already foundering. There's no way enough Albans will make personal sacrifices to the Aesir."

  Lynsey glanced apologetically at her brother, who shrugged and said: "I don't recommend underestimating Prince Gustav. Yes, on current numbers the term of the Protectorate won't be extended, but a vote for a united Albion is even less likely. And Prytennians so associate their borders with the dragonates that they're positively superstitious about reaching beyond them."

  "They also started with one dragonate and now have three," Lynsey pointed out.

  "The Suleviae won't push for territory they can't defend," Evelyn said. He paused, then added blandly: "Though a few more years of Prince Gustav turning up on their doorstep every five minutes might change that."

  Lyle, briefly abandoning correct behaviour, pretended to throw a seedcake at him, and Evelyn ducked and laughed.

  Lynsey, watching them with fond tolerance, said: "The position isn't as clear as you might think. But we mustn't bore Arianne rehashing old debates when we came to offer our help."

  Rian, who had been trying to fit an effort to unite Albion with a plot revolving around fulgite, seized the convenient opening.

  "My goals in the short term revolve around clothes and transportation," she said. "It sounds as if purchasing a hummingbird is a fraught investment, thanks to the fulgite scarcity."

  "You'd do better using taxicabs," Evelyn agreed. "Though given the prices this last couple of years, perhaps the best sense is buying a hummingbird and then hiring a well-armed chauffeur. Or two. At this rate, by the end of the year horse-drawn will outnumber fulquus-powered once again—just when the streets were starting to be manageably clean."