Storm Glass (The Harbinger Series Book 1)

by Jeff Wheeler

  Lady Admiral gawked at him as if he were the most foolish man in the world. She stamped her foot again and lividly gestured at Mr. Sloan to release her power of speech.

  Cettie felt a throb, as she had many times when one of the Mysteries was enacted, and suddenly words were spluttering from Mrs. Pratt’s mouth. “I’ve never been—you’ve got no right! If you think that I’m going to—!”

  “Please, Mrs. Pratt,” Fitzroy said. “We have no intention of forcing you to take this young woman home with you. Mr. Sloan, you may proceed with the negotiations. I’m taking Cettie out of here at once.”

  Anger burned in his eyes as he snatched her hand and escorted her firmly from the room. As they left, Lady Admiral continued to rail against the two advocates until the door closed, but not even a mumble could be heard on the other side of the wooden door. Cettie turned back and gazed at the door, surprised that such shouting had instantly been silenced. Many of the young men at the tables had glanced up from their work on hearing the commotion. The young man who’d smiled at her gave her a sympathetic look.

  “We can’t leave here soon enough,” Fitzroy muttered.

  They left the workroom and started down the narrow hall leading to the main square and the fountain. But Fitzroy paused in the corridor, hand clenched into a fist. She had never seen him so emotional or upset. He was furious and barely able to contain it. As if suddenly realizing he’d paused, Fitzroy turned and gave her a sheepish smile.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Cettie,” he said. “I should have come alone.” His mouth pressed into a firm line.

  She blinked up at him, feeling pummeled by raw emotion. Her father had hardly looked at her. She was a reminder of a lapse of judgment from his younger days. His young wife was clearly in control of him and all that he did. Cettie pitied them and the harshness of their lives.

  “What do you think will happen?” she asked Fitzroy.

  He reached out and smoothed her hair. “Once they learn that I am seeking to adopt you, Mrs. Pratt will try to squeeze me in hopes of gaining a sizable sum. If her father is a landlord, then she is already used to this form of torture. It grieves me that the world has become this way. How quick everyone is to renounce responsibility and foist it on others. But if there is a farthing to be made, they will be as tenacious as wolves. This change in our society has happened so abruptly.” He sighed and shook his head. “When I was younger, it wasn’t this . . . mercenary. It is almost as if it has happened by design. When the Ministry of Law took power, many years ago, things began to change. The prime minister back then had a saying that I found quite chilling, but true.”

  Cettie was so grateful to him at that moment. His anger was directed at the system, not at her. He was preparing to go to battle to win her. He wouldn’t cast off his promise.

  “What was it?” she asked him, feeling her throat catch.

  Fitzroy looked at her. “He said, almost smugly, that interest never sleeps, sickens, or dies. It neither visits nor travels, it takes no pleasure, and it is never discharged from its employment. Interest has no kinfolk to watch over and care for.” He chuckled to himself. “He was almost gleeful when he said this next part. It is the soul of the Mysteries of Law. Once in debt”—he wagged his finger at her—“interest is your companion every moment of the day and night. You cannot shun it or slip away from it. You can never dismiss it. It yields neither to entreaties, demands, or orders, and whenever you get in its way or cross its course or fail to meet its demands, it crushes you.”

  He gave her a fierce look. “After I heard him say that, I determined to free Fog Willows from the debt my ancestors had accrued. Every day, I am given an offer to go into debt for something or other. It staggers the mind, the amount of debt that the empire controls. If an obligation fails, a sky manor can come crashing down.”

  Cettie’s eyes widened with horror.

  Fitzroy nodded. “It has happened, Cettie. The fear of it drives even sane men into taking on impossible quantities of debt. And then they lose their manors another way. It is all part of a game we willingly play. The game of risk and chance.” He shook his head. “I refuse to play it. Shall we go? Is there any place you’d like to see while we are here? Your friends from Miss Charlotte’s, perhaps?”

  Cettie remembered the chance meeting with Joses. “I would like that, Fitzroy. When we arrived, I forgot to tell you that I saw Joses.”

  “You did?” He looked surprised. “I didn’t see him amidst the throng. He shouldn’t be wandering the streets during the day.”

  “The lieutenant said Joses left Miss Charlotte’s house and joined a gang. Did you know that?”

  “I did not. I knew you would be anxious about your friend. Let me inquire further. Did he speak to you? I was mobbed by those children when we arrived.”

  “He gave me a warning. He said it was a sham.”

  “What is a sham?” he asked her, confused.

  “I don’t know. That’s all he said.”

  He looked at her and nodded. “I will have Staunton on the lookout for him. But the Fells are very deep. They can swallow someone who doesn’t want to be found. And sometimes someone who does.”

  He offered his hand, and she took it willingly.

  He was about to leave but then paused once again. “The truth always comes out in the end, Cettie. Mr. George Pratt has learned this lesson to his detriment. I learned it long ago. There truly are no secret acts. One day, all will be revealed.” He smiled. “Even your past.”

  SERA

  One of the most powerful tools in the influencing of human beings is praise. While we all disdain flattery, and its self-seeking motivation, the well-earned praise of someone we admire can lift the weight of a burdensome obligation and grant courage in dark hours. Withhold it, however, and you may drive a man nearly mad to attain the smallest morsel. This is the power that society wields. It shapes the destinies of empires. A little praise can end a war. Exposing a fault can start one.

  —Lady Corinne of Pavenham Sky

  CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE

  RUMOR’S THOUSAND TONGUES

  Will was leaving soon to start his schooling in the Mysteries. It pained Sera to think she might never see him again. She had never had a friend before, someone with whom she could share her thoughts and ideas without fear of judgment. Each time he and Commander Falking came for the tutoring sessions, Hugilde would give her another secret letter after they left, having read it first to ensure it was harmless banter between two young people. But Sera looked forward to reading them despite her governess’s role in their correspondence, and she spent hours crafting her replies, sometimes going through six or seven sheets of paper to perfect her messages.

  Each subject her tutors taught her was getting more and more difficult, and Sera found herself struggling to keep up with her studies. Her mind wandered terribly during classes, and she was beginning to sense the growing impatience of those her father had hired to tutor her in the Mysteries. She asked so many questions that occasionally she earned a scolding, along with a reminder to keep to the topic at hand. Why could she not force her mind to be more tranquil?

  Hugilde was of no help, of course.

  “Sera, you are too distractible,” the governess scolded one afternoon. They were strolling through the garden together, hand in hand. Even though Sera was growing older, she was still affectionate by nature, and since she got so little of it from either parent, she enjoyed being close to her governess. Hugilde steered them away from the trees, however. Sera could still see the scar from the limb she’d broken on the day that had changed her life forever. Her fall had diminished the thrill of climbing.

  “You must learn to discipline your mind.”

  “But how do I do that, Hugilde? So many things fascinate me. I can’t help asking questions. I love to learn. But I don’t want to learn all the dry facts my tutors want to teach me. None of it relates to anything.”

  “You are a spoiled child; that is your problem,” Hugild
e said.

  “I am not spoiled!” Sera countered. “I don’t get anything that I really want. Sometimes I feel like a prisoner.”

  Hugilde rolled her eyes at the dramatic statement. “Do you even hear yourself, Sera? Prisoners are forced to labor. You are being forced to sit still and learn. In order to master the Mysteries, one first needs to master herself. When I was younger, a student daydreaming would get rapped on the knuckles with a cane.” She arched an eyebrow at Sera, trying to make her feel coddled, no doubt.

  “Father once grabbed my arm and shook me,” Sera said archly.

  “You were six,” Hugilde said. “That was many years ago.”

  “And he gets upset with me constantly now,” Sera continued. “Becoming the prince regent has placed an enormous burden on him, I know that, but he has no patience anymore. I don’t think yelling at someone makes them want to change. It only makes me more determined to be wicked.”

  “Hush, Princess. If you visited the Fells for one afternoon, you’d see that you are nothing more than a pampered princess chafing at her lessons. We’ve all been through it, dearest.”

  Sera ran her fingers through the hedge leaves as they walked. “I’m going to miss Will very much. Commander Falking can be so boring. I wish I could go away to school. I know I would learn better if I were away from here.”

  “You don’t need to go to school. The masters will continue coming to you. It hasn’t always been that way, though.”

  “I know. And it disappoints me every day.” She saw the entrance to the hedge maze and tugged at Hugilde’s hand to enter with her. When she was a child, she used to run ahead of Hugilde and try to lose her in the maze. She loved to hear her governess’s frustrated complaints and threats as she hid amidst the hedges—almost as much as she enjoyed seeing the relief in Hugilde’s eyes when she was finally found.

  “Can I show Will the hedge maze?” Sera asked brightly. “I think he would love it.”

  “We don’t have enough time for the lesson most of the time, much less for such nonsense.”

  “Please, Hugilde!”

  “No, Sera.”

  The young princess stopped and tugged on Hugilde’s hand. “But he’s going away in a fortnight. Can’t we spend our last lesson walking through the gardens? I’d love to show him this place. It’s so small, yet so beautiful. It’s part of my life that I could share. You and Commander Falking could walk with us. It wouldn’t be improper.”

  “If your father found out,” Hugilde said, shaking her head, but Sera could see she had already begun to win.

  “Father is busy all the time,” Sera said. “I only see him at dinner, and he’s getting fatter every day. I think the chief requirement of being prince regent must be eating treats.”

  “That is a wicked thing to say.” The words were delivered in a serious manner belied by Hugilde’s smile.

  “Is it wicked that I said it, or is it wicked that it’s true?”

  “Some days, you are simply impossible.”

  Sera smiled and bowed. “Thank you. Now please, Hugilde. Can’t you arrange it? I see the way Commander Falking glances your way. He’s a bachelor, you know, and I think he’d enjoy spending some time in your company. You’re very striking.”

  Hugilde put her hand to her cheek. The little blush there was noticeable. Sera felt a little guilty for manipulating her.

  “Do you really think so?” the governess asked.

  Sera’s plan worked like a miracle. Commander Falking thought it was a splendid idea to take a little walk in the gardens he had admired from his zephyr. He chuckled and said he wished that he could take Sera with them for a ride above the City, but he knew the prince regent would never consent to such an outing. Instead, they would spend the last lesson out of doors, discussing military tactics in the open air.

  Thrilled by her success, Sera prepared for the outing by choosing one of her best gowns and even asked her maidservant to spend extra time doing her hair. She had written a final letter to Will that expressed her hope that they could continue their correspondence after he was away at school. She’d expressed her gratitude for his friendship and wished him the very best success in his chosen field of becoming a dragoon.

  When the day finally arrived, the sky threatened to ruin all her plans. Thick thunderheads had appeared, and Sera found she could not pay any attention to her morning lessons for fear a downpour would crush her hopes. Why did a storm have to arrive on that day? The week previous had been the most beautiful weather in a month, ideal for taking a stroll. Occasionally a few taps of raindrops on the window would wilt her feelings, but they didn’t last long. The sky was preparing for a massive storm, but it was not ready to be set free. Sera wished with all her energy and focus that the rains would be delayed an hour more.

  When Commander Falking and Will arrived, the rain still hadn’t started, but she was concerned that the portent would dissuade everyone else from the adventure. She was thrilled past words when Falking said, “I hope, Your Highness, that you won’t let a little water frighten you away from the outdoors?”

  “Not at all, Commander. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to go out.”

  “Tush,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ve flown through worse storms than this. Even if it does start to rain, it will give you better appreciation for what the Ministry of War endures to defend the empire.”

  And so they started their little walk in the garden. None of the groundskeepers were out. Everyone in their right mind seemed to be hunkering down, waiting for the storm to hit.

  The wind was gusting, so the four of them had to stay close to hear one another. Commander Falking offered his arm to Hugilde, and she took it, and then Will did the same to Sera. She felt as if a hive of bees had been unloosed inside her chest.

  “The greatest risk a soldier takes is being aloft during a storm,” said Falking. “Do you know why?”

  “Would it be the lightning?” Sera asked over her shoulder.

  “That is a good guess, but it is exceedingly rare. Though I’ve seen lightning strike from ground up to the hull of a ship. Did you know it went both ways?”

  “I did not,” Sera said with excitement.

  “It’s part of the Mysteries of Wind, naturally, but anyone who sails the skies learns them to some degree. No, it’s the wind itself that causes the trouble. It is unpredictable and malicious. A man can be blown from the rails if he’s not careful.”

  “How terrifying,” Sera said. She glanced at Will with concern. He saw her look and shrugged. He didn’t seem afraid at all.

  “A sudden storm can catch a ship unawares,” Falking continued. “Nothing is more powerful than the raw force of nature. No one knows when one will come, and they can shake a ship to pieces. The sky can be clear in the morning and then violent before dusk. The winds are a risk in every operation we undergo.”

  Just as he said the words, a sudden gust hit them and blew the hat clean off his head, sending it flying. He lumbered after it, and Sera and Will started laughing at the sight.

  They were near the hedge maze. Hugilde was trying not to laugh as Falking attempted to chase down his errant hat. Sera had already learned that the size and shape of an officer’s hat was important and that losing it would be a huge embarrassment to the commander.

  The impulse to sneak into the maze with Will was overpowering. Maybe it was the sudden chaos of the wind. Maybe it was her disobedient spirit. Maybe it was too difficult to endure the utter boredom of her life.

  “Come with me,” she said. Their arms were already hooked together, and she tugged him toward the entrance of the hedge maze. There was a flash of indecision on his face. It lasted only a moment. He flashed a smile and joined her.

  “Sera! Sera! Wait!” Hugilde chuffed.

  Into the maze they dashed. Sera knew it very well. She was gasping and trying to quell her laughter all at once. There was a part of the maze that had a succession of quick turns, which she took to put distance between them and their pursu
ers. Hugilde would be furious at the trick, and no doubt the commander would be out of sorts, too. But this was the last time she would see Will. Maybe the last time forever, and she wanted to make the moment last. The sounds of pursuit could be heard from the hedge, but the rushing of the wind made it difficult to make out any words. Sera kept low, pulling Will after her, and then they stopped to rest and giggle in a little nook in the maze. Sera was trying to control herself, but the image of Falking chasing his hat made her double over with laughter. She couldn’t stop. Tears were in her eyes.

  Will leaned back against the hedge, looking back the way they had come. He was laughing, too, looking free and unguarded. She blinked up at him, enjoying this new, carefree side of him. He was capable of having fun. Despite his discipline as a soldier, he was still a young man at heart.

  “Will we get in much trouble?” he whispered to her.

  “Very much, I’m afraid,” she answered, wiping hair away from her face. The tops of the hedges were shaking with the wind. It sounded like a great beast was rustling them. “But it’s my fault. It’s always my fault.”

  “I came willingly,” Will said.

  “No, you were my protector. You saw me run off ahead and didn’t want anything to happen to me. That’s what you must say. Trust me, Will. I know how to get out of trouble, too.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched her give her little speech. He glanced back. Some heavy raindrops began to fall. “Do we stay here until they find us?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s go deeper. There are some benches we can sit on.”