A Little Knowledge

by Emma Newman

  “There’s a Nether version anchored there, though, right?” Cathy asked, and Sam nodded. “I can knock and be heard in the Nether house, it’s fine. Oh, hang on! Won’t you…break the Nether house? Being Lord Iron and all?”

  “I didn’t break yours when I visited,” he replied. “I guess the magic that anchors the buildings is hidden away in something. I have to touch it to break it, remember?”

  She smiled. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

  They got out of the car and Cathy asked her bodyguard to stay inside it, worried that the Sorcerer would be intimidated by him. Carter insisted on getting out of the car, but compromised by staying back from the doorway when they knocked.

  Cathy marched up to the door and after whispering a few words that Sam couldn’t make out, rapped on the door with the knocker three times. It seemed to reverberate through the entire house, with an echo that sounded wrong, somehow.

  They shivered on the doorstep as the sky grew black. Cathy knocked a second time and then just as she was about to try a third time, the door opened.

  Sam hardly recognised Petra. It seemed she was having the same difficulty recognising him.

  “Sam?”

  “Petra?”

  “What happened?” they asked each other in unison.

  “Can we come in?” he asked. “It’s freezing.” When Petra gave Cathy a wary look, Sam said, “This is Cathy. She’s been here a few times before, but you never met.”

  “You’re the puppet that Max knows?”

  Cathy frowned. “I’d prefer not to be called that. But yes, I’m the one.”

  There was a moment of hesitation. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Petra, please,” Sam said. “Everything’s changed. I’m Lord Iron now. And I vouch for Cathy, okay?”

  Petra stared at Sam. “Lord Iron? That’s what it is. How…never mind. Come in.” She almost shut the door in Carter’s face.

  “That’s my bodyguard,” Cathy said. “Can he come in too?”

  After another hesitation, Petra stepped aside for Carter and then shut the front door.

  Something was definitely wrong. The place felt abandoned. Then Sam remembered that he’d always been in the Nether house. Perhaps they didn’t use the anchor very much. “I need to speak to Ekstrand and so does Cathy. Is he in the Nether?”

  Petra looked away. “I—I’m afraid he’s not available.”

  In the light cast by the hallway chandelier, Sam took in the extent of Petra’s dishevelment. Why hadn’t Axon opened the door?

  “Petra…” he began, but she rallied herself.

  “Perhaps it’s something I can help you with?” she said, smoothing her skirt and trying to tuck some of the strands of hair away from her eyes.

  “I want to talk to him about the Agency,” Cathy said. “Do you know anything about it?”

  “Probably not enough for your purposes, I’m afraid.” Petra’s smile was horribly brittle.

  “Then maybe you could tell me if there’s a way I can get in touch with the Arbiter, Max. He visits sometimes, but—”

  “Oh, that I can help with!” Petra fished a piece of paper from her pocket and went to a notepad by the telephone. “He gave me his new mobile phone number earlier. I’ll just write it down for you.”

  Sam looked around as she wrote. A couple of strands of cobweb hung from the chandelier and there were dried shoe prints on the black and white floor tiles. Axon never would have stood for that, mundane house or not. He saw the ladders in Petra’s stockings and how greasy her hair looked. When she turned around to give the number to Cathy, he saw a woman desperate to make it seem that everything was fine when it most definitely wasn’t.

  She directed that fragile smile at him. “And how can I help you, Sam?”

  “I wanted to talk to Ekstrand about the Elemental Court and being Lord Iron,” he began. “My predecessor didn’t leave me any information about the more…unusual aspects of my new job.”

  “Well, I know a little. Did you have a question about the protocol for commissioning a piece of pure iron? I know about that.”

  “Anything would be great.”

  “Well, when you became Lord Iron, a letter will have been sent to all of the…” her voice faltered but she took a moment and then cleared her throat. “All the Sorcerers of Albion, detailing who you are and how you can be contacted.”

  Sam had no idea if the letter had been sent out. No one had mentioned it to him— perhaps the knowledge had been lost over Amir’s stewardship. Then again, he couldn’t imagine Ekstrand allowing anyone else to read his correspondence, so maybe she just hadn’t seen it.

  “Then whenever a piece is needed,” Petra continued, “the Sorcerer sends a representative with a seal, made of iron, to prove they are who they say they are so the negotiation for the work can be carried out.”

  “How do I recognise a seal?”

  “Oh I think you just do, because the first Lord Iron made them and they’re pure and…” She shrugged. “I was told he or she will just know when they see one.”

  “Can I look at Ekstrand’s seal?”

  Petra bit her lip. “I…”

  “Or talk to him about the rest of what the job involves? It’s really critical, Petra, I’m sure you understand.”

  “I don’t know where he…” She looked up the stairs.

  At first Sam thought she was searching for something; then he realised she was trying to stop tears from falling. “Has he passed away?”

  Petra looked like she was going to deny it, but then broke down, twisting away from him and Cathy as her body shook with heaving sobs. Carter looked away, distinctly uncomfortable, and Cathy stepped back too. Sam went over to Petra, knowing how that grief felt and hating the thought of her alone in the huge house, suffering.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, and she turned to face him, mumbling some sort of apology. He put his arms around her, feeling her bones and the way the suit hung from her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. What happened? Did Axon die too? Are you alone here?”

  She stopped crying, as if a switch had been flicked, and pulled away from him. She fished a handkerchief from up her sleeve and wiped her face, the strangest expression forming upon it.

  “Petra?” Sam asked, worried she’d catastrophically lost it and was about to start laughing hysterically.

  “I’m so tired,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve slept or eaten properly since he died.” There was no emotion in her voice, as if it had been stolen away.

  “Sam,” Cathy said nervously. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing!”

  “You broke some sort of magic,” Cathy said. “Um, Petra, how are you feeling?”

  “Very calm,” she said. She rested a hand on her stomach, focusing inwards, as if she needed to consider the question carefully and consult her own body. “I need to eat and to sleep. Urgh, and to have a bath. I must look terrible.”

  “Do you feel anything else?” Cathy asked, staring at Petra’s hand in a way that made Sam feel that she was seeing something he wasn’t.

  Petra considered the question. She did seem different, even though she looked exactly the same, and it wasn’t just the sudden end to her grief. She seemed…distant in a way Sam would never associate with her. All the times he’d visited before she’d been warm and engaged, bright and eager to help. It was like he was looking at a shell of her.

  “I feel like I’m missing something.” She looked around the hallway as if seeing it for the first time. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

  “Where are you supposed to be?” Sam asked, disturbed.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “I just know it isn’t here. How curious. I feel like I’ve been…dreaming for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be awake.”

  “You’ve been under a spell,” Cathy said with authority.

  “She was a Sorcerer’s librarian!” Sam said. “It’s impossible. He hated the Fae; there’s no way he’d let someone wo
rk with him so closely if they had any of their magic on them!”

  Cathy shrugged. “That’s what it looks like to me. I don’t know you, Petra, but I’ve seen curses being broken before. Either Ekstrand didn’t know or he didn’t care. Either way, I reckon someone got to you.”

  “I think you’re right,” Petra said. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in. I need to clean myself up and get some food.” She looked at Sam. “I don’t know where he kept the seal, I’m sorry. There might be something in one of the books in the library. Once I’m feeling stronger, I’ll do some research. I’d let you do it yourself but there are powerful protections on them and I’m not sure whether you’d be immune to sorcerous magic. Could you leave a contact number for me?”

  “Sure,” Sam said, wondering how she could be so calm. Perhaps it was shock. “Are you going to be okay here? Have you got some family? Somewhere else you can go?”

  Petra shook her head. “I don’t think I have any family. I can’t quite remember where I came from, before I came to work here.”

  “Could Ekstrand have stolen your memory?” Cathy asked.

  Petra smiled faintly. “Sorcerous magic doesn’t work that way. Whatever has happened to me, I doubt it was Mr Ekstrand’s doing, though I suspect he was happy to benefit from it.”

  “Shit, aren’t you at least angry about it? He must have exploited you! I’m angry and I barely know you!”

  Petra shook her head. “No. I don’t feel much of anything. It’s such a relief. I was overwhelmed by emotion. It feels like I’ve just been plucked out of a hurricane and left on a desert island somewhere. It’s blissful.”

  Sam gave her his card, having written on the back. “That hotel is a short taxi ride away. Go check yourself in, charge the taxi to the hotel, I’ll arrange it all.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Sam collects waifs and strays,” Cathy said with a smile.

  “And I own the place, so it’s no big deal. Stay there as long as you need to. Okay? Just don’t stay here by yourself.”

  Petra nodded. “I just need to pack a few things first.”

  “Was it the war?” Cathy asked. “That killed Ekstrand? The gargoyle mentioned it a while back.”

  “Yes,” Petra replied, “But not the war he thought he was fighting. It all seems so…far away now. So long ago. It was less than a fortnight. I think. But then, I can’t remember how long I’ve been here, so don’t take my word for it. It feels like I was working for Ekstrand forever.” She blinked a couple of times. “And now I’m free. But I don’t really feel that way. It’s so very confusing.” She looked down at the card. “I’ll take you up on that offer, Lord Iron, thank you.”

  “Sam, please, I’m just Sam,” he said.

  “No, you’re not,” Petra replied with a moment of her former intensity. “You’re master of the blood and star metal, brother to the binding metal, and protector of the innocent. You’re woven into the fabric of the world on a level deeper than most can even conceive of and you haven’t even come into your strength yet.” She rested her hand over his heart. “And you freed me. I won’t forget it.”

  Sam looked down into her eyes, struck by the feeling that one day, that would be important. It was all getting too weird. He stepped back from her. “Time to go,” he said, shaken.

  11

  Will struggled to manage his guilt as he arrived at Sir Iris’s house. He’d received a letter asking him to come and speak to Sir Iris regarding Margritte Tulipa. She had been brought to Sir Iris’s house earlier that evening, delivered personally by Nathaniel at the request of the Tulipa and Iris Patroons. Having engineered it all without Margritte’s knowledge, the only thing left for Will to check was whether her trust in him remained intact and what she was planning to say. Whether he could bear to look into her eyes was another question yet to be answered.

  Last time, the mirror at the Tower had brought him straight into the waiting room so that he could sweat the correct amount before being dressed down. This time the mirror brought him out of a matching glass hanging in the hallway of Sir Iris’s household. When he asked the page who’d been waiting for his arrival if he could speak with Margritte, he expected to have to justify why. It seemed no orders had been given to keep her isolated, and William was escorted straight to a room guarded by two burly men in Iris livery.

  The door wasn’t locked and he was shown inside. There was a chair and a desk within, along with a lit fire. There were no paintings and, obviously, no mirrors. The window was covered by locked shutters. He wasn’t sure what the room was usually used for. It wasn’t comfortable enough to be a study and was too plain to be a receiving room. Perhaps there were dozens of rooms simply set aside to hold nervous people as they waited to see the Patroon.

  Margritte was standing in the corner farthest from the door, ashen-faced, with her arms wrapped about herself. When she saw that it was Will and not another Iris she let out a sigh of relief and went over to meet him in the centre of the room. He kissed her hand and noted how it trembled, even though she was otherwise composed.

  “I’m so sorry, Margritte, I just got the news. I failed you.”

  “Oh, you did more than I could have asked for. You always said there was a risk your brother would escalate. You were right.”

  Will noticed a tiny bit of blood under her nose. “Did he hit you? I’ll beat the—”

  “No, no.” She blushed and dabbed at her face with a handkerchief stained with fresh blood. “The Seeker Charm he employed was so powerful it made my nose bleed. Nathaniel wasn’t exactly gentle, but he didn’t hit me this time. I thought he was going to take me back to Oxenford, but I don’t think he has. Where are we?”

  “Londinium, in my Patroon’s household. I made enquiries, and I’m told Sir Tulipa is on his way. There’s to be a discussion about what happens now. Nathaniel insists you should be held at his pleasure, but your Patroon disagrees. Sir Iris has agreed to discuss it with him.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Margritte said, starting to pace. “Nathaniel didn’t have any idea who hid me from him, and I didn’t say a word when he asked me. I doubt he will bring up the fact that I’ve been free of him all this time, so the Patroons will assume I’ve been in his custody. I won’t tell them otherwise, Will. They don’t need to know what you’ve done for me. I can’t imagine it would be received well by your Patroon.”

  Will hid his relief. He’d been hoping she would see it this way. He’d counted on her nobility and she hadn’t failed him. He pushed down another surge of guilt and smiled at her. “Even now, you seek to protect me?”

  “Are you not trying to do the same? Why are you here, if not to help?”

  He nodded, neglecting to mention that he had been summoned by his Patroon. “I’ve asked to speak to the Patroons. Nathaniel is no doubt going to emphasise the fact that I was returned to him after you took me. I’m going to make it clear that we resolved our conflict, and that he jumped to conclusions he shouldn’t have in the heat of the moment.”

  “There’s no way to hide the fact that I wronged you, Will.”

  “No, but if they know I have no desire to see you punished, it may soften their judgement and make it more likely that Sir Iris will release you into the care of Sir Tulipa. That is the best outcome we can hope for, I fear.”

  “He’s my uncle,” Margritte said. “I would rather face his wrath than that of your family. I was ready to do that before your brother intervened in the Sheldonian, and I still am. I behaved terribly and I take responsibility for it.”

  “I plan to keep any mention of the Sorcerer from my testimony,” Will said. “I take it you intend to do the same?”

  She nodded. “Unless they force me, I plan to say it was all me. And I have no intention of telling them anything about what you confessed to me in Rupert’s prison. That is in the past, and we have been victims enough of these sickening games they play with us.”

  “Thank you,” he said, all the while knowing that he’d
cast the Seeker Charm that had made her bleed. His men, disguised with a glamour, had stormed the room in which she was hiding and thrown her through a Way into a house in which she was kept under guard until Nathaniel arrived, having received a tip-off from him. He was moving her around the board to protect his own pieces and although he felt wretched about it, he would still execute his plan. “I will do everything in my power to press for leniency. Sir Iris knows how hot-headed Nathaniel is, and he’ll want to keep relations civil between himself and the Tulipa Patroon. This will all blow over.”

  “Will, if I don’t have the opportunity to do so myself, please will you convey my warmest affection to Cathy for me? Tell her…tell her I’m sorry I won’t be able to continue to help her.”

  “Now, don’t speak like that!” Will said, hearing the tremor in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her yourself, very soon.” He heard a clock striking down the hall. Nine o’clock in the evening. Sir Iris would be sending for him soon. “I need to go now, before Sir Tulipa arrives. Have courage, Margritte. You’re not alone.”

  How he hated himself as he smiled so sweetly at her and held her hand for one last, brief moment. But he had to stop thinking this way. He was doing the right thing for his brother, for his own blood, and that counted for more. Besides, the Tulipa Patroon would probably do no more than tell her off and send her to some country house for a couple of years until it faded from Nathaniel’s memory. It wouldn’t stop her secretly meeting with Cathy, and surely it was better to just get it all cleared up, rather than her living in hiding indefinitely.

  As he walked back to the sitting room, Will tried to get his fears in check. Margritte was right that it was better for everyone involved that the Patroons know nothing of her escape from the castle, and therefore it was very unlikely to come up. What worried him more was how much detail the Patroons would want about what happened to him and why, after being driven to such extreme behaviour, she’d suddenly changed her mind and released him. He had mentally prepared for as many varied questions as possible, and short of having a Truth Charm slapped on him or on Margritte—highly unlikely given that both families were being represented in the room and neither would want to risk secrets being revealed—he simply had to trust his ability to talk Margritte out of trouble.