He smiled as he opened the door. “Coming for some breakfast?”
Olivia followed him down the stairs and out into the streets. They were filling up rapidly as the Rookery came to life. A handful of street-sellers were selling meat and bread, although Jack knew better than to ask what was in the stew or sausages. There were people in the Rookery who made a living by catching rats – or cats – and selling them to the cooks, who turned them into stew. No one in the Rookery objected; very few of them would ever have tasted beef, or lamb, or pork. There were chicken coops on some of the roofs, but chicken was pricy. Only the criminals could hope to eat it on a regular basis.
The first time Jack had eaten something cooked in the Rookery, he recalled, he had spent the rest of the afternoon with a very upset stomach. He was a little stronger now, but it still shocked him to see Olivia eat with apparent relish. She wouldn’t have had anything regularly before she’d joined up with the underground, yet...Jack shook his head, remembering – once again – why he was trying to overthrow the government. No one should have to live in such conditions. A pack of wild dogs ran through the streets, hunting rats; they too sometimes ended up in the stew pot. Sentiment wasn’t worth much in the Rookery. Jack had sometimes wondered if some of its denizens were actually cannibals. It wasn’t as if life was worth much in the Rookery either.
He waited for Olivia to finish, sipping a bottle of beer he was fairly sure was safe to drink, and then led her through the maze of streets towards Lucy’s brothel. As soon as they turned the corner, he knew that something was badly wrong. The Bow Street Runners rarely came into the Rookery, but when they did they came in force. There were hundreds of policemen on the streets, surrounding Lucy’s building. The men and women inside were being marched out in cuffs. Jack saw a handful of steady customers, a couple of underground messengers...and Lucy herself. He felt magic building up within his body, only to clamp down on it as hard as he could. The policemen were escorted by an entire team of Combat Magicians. Somehow – and Jack had no idea how – they’d tracked the underground down to Lucy’s brothel.
“I told you,” Olivia insisted. “That snooty bitch sold us out!”
“She couldn’t have known,” Jack said, flatly. He could think of several ways the Bow Street Runners – or the sparkers – could have tracked them down. A lucky break, a police informer in the right place – or even magic, a more than normally reliable Seer. “Damnation.”
He thought, rapidly. If there hadn’t been any Combat Magicians, he could have jumped in and scattered the police, giving the underground members a chance to run and hide. But they were there – and Master Thomas might be there too, not too far away. It might even be a trap for him.
“Come on,” he said, catching Olivia’s hand. They would need to find somewhere to hide, at least until he thought of a plan. Lucy didn’t know everything, but she did know enough to expose his overall plan. And then they’d bring in the Dragoons and the plan would fall apart before it had even begun. “We need to get out of here.”
Olivia looked up at him. “But what are we going to do?”
Jack had no answer for her. Not yet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m afraid that Master Thomas is in a meeting,” Doctor Norwell said. The theoretical magician seemed to have assumed control, somewhat to Gwen’s surprise. “Do you wish me to take a message for him?”
It was on the tip of Gwen’s tongue to ask about the Sleeping Plague, but she had the feeling that that would be a very bad idea. “I intend to visit my brother,” she said, as grandly as she could. Her mother had taught her that arrogance and a total refusal to listen to reason could go a long way. “I would appreciate it if you informed him that I will probably be back late at night.”
Doctor Norwell blinked, owlishly. “I think I had better check with him first,” he said, slowly. “London is not safe for young magicians at the moment.”
Gwen rolled her eyes as he knocked on Master Thomas’s door and pushed it open. Gwen glanced through and saw Master Thomas, Lord Mycroft, Lord Blackburn and a man she didn’t recognise. Lord Blackburn’s face was marred, as if he had come off worst in a fight while making his way home. Gwen flushed and looked away, remembering what she’d seen at the farm. Lord Blackburn couldn’t know that she’d seen him. He’d been very busy at the time.
“Lady Gwen would like to visit her brother,” Doctor Norwell said. He sounded rather perplexed, as if he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to visit their family. Gwen wondered, rather spitefully, if he had any family. He was certainly old enough to have outlived his parents, perhaps even any siblings. “Do you feel that that would be appropriate?”
“Certainly not,” Lord Blackburn said. He sounded angry, although Gwen suspected that the anger wasn’t directed at her. “We have far more important matters to worry about right now.”
Master Thomas gave him a look that quelled a second protest before it could emerge from his mouth. “One moment,” he said, and stood up. He walked out the door, pulling it closed behind him, before he faced Gwen. “You must know that London isn’t safe right now.”
Gwen nodded, thinking hard. Was he genuinely concerned about her, or was he worried about what she might discover on the outside? She wasn’t supposed to know about the farm – and she suspected that she would never be supposed to know about the program, even when Master Thomas finally retired. But she had to talk to someone and David was the only person who would give her a fair hearing.
“Yes,” she said, “but I’ll be fine.”
“We captured some…underground rebels this morning,” Master Thomas said. He looked down at her and she was surprised to see real concern in his eyes. “They may want to strike at us again – and you are their most likely target.”
“I can take care of myself,” Gwen insisted. “I should have gone to see my brother earlier…”
“And you can go with an escort,” Master Thomas said. He cocked his head to one side and Gwen felt an odd pressure in her temples. She realised, in surprise, that he was in mental communication with another magician. She’d never seen it demonstrated before. “I’ll have a combat team assigned to escort you.”
He held up a hand before Gwen could say a word. “Either take the escort or stay here, where it’s safe,” he said, firmly. “There are plenty of books that you need to read while I’m busy.”
Gwen nodded, reluctantly. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll go under escort.”
Master Thomas smiled. “Doctor Norwell will escort you to the carriage,” he said. “And I trust I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”
Outside, the sun was shining down, trying to drive away the London smog. A carriage was waiting for Gwen, painted in the black colour used by the Royal Sorcerers. She saw two young men, both dressed in sorcerer’s black, seated up by the horse, waving to her. They carried silver-topped canes and wore evening suits, although Gwen could tell that they had been tailored by the same person who’d designed her garb. The suits allowed their wearers to move freely and could probably come off in a jiffy, should it be required. Both of the men – and the two others inside the carriage – looked reassuringly competent. Their insignias marked them as a mixture of Blazers and Movers. There was no Talker, which struck her as odd, but then few would dare to rob a coach protected by magicians.
But Jack would, she thought, as she allowed one of the magicians to help her into the carriage. Inside, it was surprisingly roomy – and filled with the shimmering presence of magic. She touched one of the seats and sensed that someone had carefully infused it with magic, magic intended to protect the people inside the vehicle. The King himself couldn’t be protected any better. And the King, she suspected, was safely inside Windsor Castle, under constant guard by the Royal Sorcerers. Jack wouldn’t have a chance to go after him.
The carriage lurched to life as one of the magicians up front cracked the whip. Gwen watched as the horse pulled the carriage out of the drive and onto the streets. London seem
ed as crowded as ever, although the traffic seemed to clear a path for the sorcerers. London’s cabbies were an imprudent lot, given to risking their livelihoods just to get their passengers from place to place as quickly as possible, but even they wouldn’t risk the anger of a group of magicians. The pedestrians on the pavement turned to stare, some looking surprised, others fearful. Gwen winced inwardly as she saw the fear in their eyes. Magic was terrifying – and daunting – to those who not only had none of their own, but knew nothing of its limits.
She sat back in her seat and studied her two companions. They both looked handsome, if a little hard-worn. One of them looked old enough to have seen military service against the French; the other might have served in the wars against the Red Indians in America, or the Sikhs in India. Gwen had never truly considered the cost of empire before, but then – why should she? No one had ever expected her to be anything more than a daughter, a wife and a mother. Her magic might have opened new vistas for her, yet it had also closed others. She would never know domestic bliss.
But then, had her mother ever known it? Lady Mary’s insistence on proper behaviour might have masked something else, a fear that she wasn’t in a secure position at all. Few were, in High Society; only the Queen and the King’s legitimate children could hope to be considered secure. Lady Mary’s fortunes weren’t even under her own control. She wouldn’t be the first woman to discover that High Society would turn its back on her if her husband lost the family inheritance by gambling, or unwise investments. Equally, Society would not tolerate someone unable to prevent a daughter from flaunting her magic at every opportunity.
The thought bothered her as the carriage rattled over London Bridge, past the Houses of Parliament and down towards her brother’s apartment in Pall Mall. Gwen hadn’t bothered to give an address to the driver, which suggested that he’d already known where to go. Master Thomas could have told him, but how had he known where David would be? Or perhaps it had been obvious. David’s fancy mansion had been badly damaged in Jack’s attack and Laura would want to go somewhere safer. There were few places safer than Pall Mall.
She glanced out as the carriage came to a stop beside the pavement. One of the magicians held up a hand to keep her in her seat and jumped out, glancing around with instincts that had to have been honed while on campaign. There was no sign of trouble, apart from a handful of people who were clearly part of High Society, taking the air and chattering to one another as they walked down the street. Gwen clambered out of the carriage, shot the women a cheerful glance, and then headed towards the apartment door. The flats in Pall Mall were hugely expensive, even though they were fairly small. Gwen could have bought a house on the edge of London for the rent that David paid every month. But location was everything, as David had once told her, and Pall Mall had the best location in the world. The Houses of Parliament and most of the important clubs were only walking distance away.
“Wait here,” she said, firmly. The combat magicians didn’t look happy, but they nodded in agreement. Gwen rapped on the door, identified herself to a burly footman wearing a fancy uniform, and was waved in through the door. David rented a five-room apartment on the second floor. Gwen remembered that she’d once called him an idiot for spending so much money on it. Now, it seemed the wisest thing he’d ever done.
The door opened when she tapped on it, revealing David. Her brother looked surprised to see her, but he opened his arms and enfolded her in a bear hug. Gwen couldn’t help herself; she studied his face, looking for traces of their mother and father. David had very definitely inherited his father’s nose and his mother’s eyes. He might not have been particularly handsome, but he had a solidly reassuring appearance. Inside, Gwen saw no one. Laura had clearly decided to stay elsewhere.
“She went to stay with her parents for a few days,” David explained, when Gwen asked. He walked over to a small drinks cabinet and produced a couple of glasses. “Can I get you anything?”
Gwen shook her head. One of the few lessons about proper behaviour that her mother had drilled into her head was that young ladies should not get drunk. Gwen had known of women who did drink to excess, but she had no intention of joining their number. Besides, the Scotch that David – and their father – bought from Scotland was hideously expensive and unpleasant, at least to her palate. She suspected that most people drank it to show off their wealth, rather than out of enjoyment.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, once David had poured himself a drink. “Can I ask you to keep it to yourself?”
David paused, as if in contemplation. Gwen took the opportunity to glance around the apartment. It was clean, too clean. David’s bedroom at home was messy, with papers and books scattered everywhere, but here…the apartment was meant for business, rather than pleasure. The bookshelves looked dauntingly packed, yet Gwen suspected that he had never read a single volume. And the seats were formidably uncomfortable. It wasn’t her idea of a place to live.
Her lips twitched. If David had kept better care of his books, she would never have been able to borrow them and read them without her mother remarking on how poor her choice was for a growing young lady. She sometimes suspected that David knew all about her ‘borrowing’ of his books, without bothering to ask permission first. He’d certainly never made a fuss over missing a volume or two.
“I’ll keep it a secret,” David promised. He leaned forward. “So…do you want me to speak to the parents of some lucky fellow?”
Gwen flushed. “It isn’t that kind of secret,” she said, shaking her head. Young ladies sometimes asked their brothers to speak to the parents of a boy they found interesting, although society tended to frown on it. Youngsters found it dreadfully romantic, in line with running off to Gretna Green and marrying there, without their parents’ permission. “It’s…political.”
David’s eyes narrowed. “You must know that political issues could…impact on the family,” he said. “Father’s position in the government isn’t secure…”
“I need to talk to someone,” Gwen said. “Please…”
“I won’t breathe a word of it,” David promised. “But I expect you to listen to my advice in return.”
Gwen nodded. Whatever else could be said about her brother, he was a man of his word. A reputation for not keeping his word would have destroyed his business career – and his chances of entering government once he’d passed the business on to his children. High Society admired a man who kept his word, if only because he could be relied upon to keep secrets. Besides, David was her brother. And he had always looked out for her.
“It started after I chased the…rogue magician away from your house,” she said. The whole tale came pouring out, save only Lucy and her Healing talent. That was something Gwen intended to keep to herself, if only until she had managed to figure out how to use the talent herself. Logically, it should be part of her abilities. David listened in silence as Gwen told the story, ending with a brief description of the Sleeping Plague. “I don’t know what to do.”
David frowned, thoughtfully. “Master Thomas will not be happy when he finds out that you didn’t tell him about this,” he said, slowly. “Withholding evidence is a criminal offence.”
“I know,” Gwen said, miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”
“The anarchists struck last night, according to the newspapers,” David said. “They blew up a building in the middle of London, just to irritate the government. Apparently, it was a very important building, even though no one seems to know why. Maybe one of those places where they hold secret talks with the French or the Russians…”
Gwen frowned. She’d seen a certain building in the middle of London last night…and Lord Blackburn had been injured. What if…?
“This building,” she said, carefully. “Did they say where it was?”
“I dare say they did,” David said. He stood up and rooted through a mass of papers on an otherwise clean table until he found a copy of The Times. “There wasn’t much point in keepi
ng the details to themselves. An explosion in the heart of London wouldn’t be easy to miss.”
Gwen looked down at the paper…and muttered a very unladylike word under her breath. Unless she was much mistaken, the farm – the building where female magicians were impregnated by male magicians – had been destroyed. The newspaper story didn’t say how many people had been killed, or why, but Gwen suspected that there had been at least ten women kept there. And Jack – she had no doubt that it was his work – had killed them all, almost killing Lord Blackburn in the process.
“David,” she confessed, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know which side I’m on.”
David put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I saw…I saw the way people live,” Gwen said. The memories would stay with her for the rest of her life. “I saw men driven to drink because they could do nothing else with their lives. I saw women selling their bodies because it was the only way to make ends meet. I saw children wandering the streets, becoming pickpockets or worse, learning to survive in a harsh and utterly unforgiving environment. And I saw magicians taking women who had magical talents and breeding them…”
She broke off. “No wonder they call it the farm,” she said, bitterly. “They farm women and children.”
David considered it for a long moment. “But without magic,” he said, “what would have happened to the Empire?”
Gwen stared down at her hands. “I understood him,” she confessed, miserably. “I understood the rogue, despite what he did to you. He fights for people who can’t fight for themselves…he was once Master Thomas’s apprentice, just like me.”
“If what he told you is true,” David pointed out, “he might be Master Thomas’s son.”
Gwen flinched. Jack had made the same observation. “David…did you ever get taken to the farm?”
Her brother flushed, answering her question without speaking a word. Gwen could understand the logic behind the farm; David’s sister had powerful magic, therefore David might just be able to sire a magical child. And unlike any child he had with Laura, no one would know about one he’d sired on one of the captive magicians. The establishment could do what they liked with such a child. But they couldn’t be doing something right, or they would have more Masters and Master Thomas wouldn’t have needed Gwen.
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