by Emma Newman
Poor Ben hardly touched his breakfast, despite everyone’s best efforts to encourage him to keep his strength up. “I’m so dreadfully nervous,” he confessed to Charlotte as they both went upstairs afterwards.
She followed him into his room and closed the door behind them. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” she said. “Not in the room, obviously, but close enough to help. Just try your hardest at the tasks they want you to do and try not to look too surprised if they go very well.”
“Are you sure about this, Charlie? Isn’t this horribly dishonest?”
She thought of the cell, of the Enforcers dragging that poor baker’s son from his mother and what Magus Hopkins had said about the way the Royal Society closed ranks against anyone who questioned it. She simply couldn’t muster any sense of guilt about what she was planning. “This is going to change your life forever. I would much rather we keep you and not see a penny of their money, but we don’t have that choice, so we may as well do all we can to make sure Mother and Father are financially secure. Making sure we’re well compensated is not dishonest.”
“But I do feel that we’re trying to pass off a paste gem as a diamond.”
Charlotte shook her head. “It’s not like that at all! You are a diamond. You just haven’t had all the facets cut yet.”
“But you’re going to make them think I’m far more able than I am. What happens when I am by myself and I can barely alter a candle flame?”
Whilst it was an understandable fear, it saddened her to see Ben so lacking in self-belief. “Magus Hopkins said there’s always a drop in performance between testing and starting training. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Ben tugged at his shirt sleeve, trying and failing to make the fashionable amount extend beyond his jacket cuff. It was slightly too small. “What if I pass the test, start my training and fall ill again?”
It was a fear she shared, but they were past the point of changing anything now. There was a sharp pang of guilt that she hadn’t put herself forward instead of him. Was it too late? “Ben, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll tell them the truth. Your health means far more to me than—”
He embraced her. “No, dear heart. I know you don’t want to step forward, and I won’t force you. You’ve spent your whole life looking after me, nursing me, even funding me, to my shame. This is my only chance to help the family. I have to take it!”
“I’ll never forgive myself if anything—”
“Shush.” He held her tighter. “I’ve been thinking about this. Perhaps . . . perhaps I fell ill both times because somehow, deep down, my body knew I was following the wrong path. Perhaps if I learn to be all I can be, reach my potential, perhaps then I will be healthy.”
It sounded so desperate and so unlikely, but Charlotte allowed herself to be released from the embrace so she could smile and nod at him. “That makes a great deal of sense. Yes. In a matter of months we shall take tea together, you a magus, me a happily married woman, and we shall laugh about how frightened we were today.”
She left him to prepare himself, and after helping her mother to sweep the living room and dining room and beat the hallway rug, she retired to her bedroom to tidy herself up before the magi and Master Judicant arrived. She put on one of her best dresses and neatened her hair. She pinched her cheeks as she stood in front of the looking glass, trying to bring some colour back into her face. The dark shadows beneath her eyes made her sigh. Magus Hopkins must think her such a plain creature indeed.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Why should she care what he thought of her?
She wished George were free that evening. She was eager to tell him what had happened since her visit to his office. The safe parts, at least.
But now was not the time to think about either of them. She went to the wooden chest, lifted out the linens of her trousseau, moved her sketchbook and pencils aside and pulled out the shoe box filled with letters from George and souvenirs of their outings together. She paused when she opened it and saw a silhouette of him that had been cut by a man in the park for a ha’penny. It made her smile before she reached beneath it and the other ticket stubs and letters to find the small pair of opera glasses hidden beneath.
Strange to think that she had been so disappointed when she’d received them as a gift. Her agent had sent them to her and luckily they had arrived when her parents were otherwise engaged. The glasses were a gift from a rather eccentric author for whom she had illustrated a book on theatre costumes, based on several that had been sent to her agent’s office. “For you to enjoy the details you so artfully illustrate whilst in situ,” the note had read. She had tried them out once by looking out of her window and then wrapped them back up in the tissue paper they’d arrived in. What use had she for such a frivolous item? When would she ever go to a theatre and be able to sit in one of the expensive seats that merited the use of opera glasses?
Now she could have kissed that strange author.
She knelt down, spent a few moments wrestling her crinoline cage into a position that was mostly not in the way and rolled back the thin rug that ran down the side of her bed. With practically all her father’s income spent on rent over the years, and her mother’s modest seamstress income spent on food and other essentials, the furnishings that had been passed down in the family had never been replaced and were rather worse for wear. The minor repairs that the landlord refused to see to and that her father couldn’t afford to fix were still there, too, including the loose floorboard that was currently held in place by a couple of loose nails that had to be beaten back into place with a shoe every once in a while.
She winkled them out with her fingertips and then lifted it up to reveal the rafters below, right above where an old plaster ceiling rose was positioned. It was a leftover from the time when the four houses in their row were actually part of one large Georgian manor house. When the manor was sold and converted to separate, smaller dwellings with gas lighting, the old central chandelier was removed but the ceiling rose remained. It was a swirling, leafy and elaborate rococo design with lots of gaps between the plaster flowers, through which she could see the room below.
She’d discovered it as a child, soon after they’d moved in, and had used it to spy upon her mother sewing and her father illustrating. So many of the things she went on to practise and perfect herself were inspired by what she’d seen him draw below, when her parents thought she was asleep. Now she was counting on the same spy holes to enable her to help Ben impress the magi.
After placing everything back in the wooden chest, hiding the opera glasses beneath her pillow and replacing the floorboard without the nails, there was nothing to do but wait.
Like the day before, Master Judicant arrived first and inspected the dining room. He asked that her mother’s sewing box be removed, along with her father’s chest of paper and art supplies, which needed to be partially emptied before he could carry it out. It was all to do with minimising risk, apparently, and Charlotte was glad precautions were being taken. All the while, Ben rested upstairs, marshalling his strength for the trials ahead. Charlotte wished she could do the same.
Each of the magi who had visited the day before had a scheduled time to come to test Ben, with Magus Ainsworth first on the list. She arrived just before nine o’clock, carrying a small black leather case, and after a polite round of good mornings, Master Judicant ushered her and Ben into the dining room.
“Do you mind if I rest whilst the test is happening, Mother?” Charlotte asked. “I’m so tired. I hardly slept.”
“Of course,” Mother said, kissing her on the forehead. “You’ve been an angel. Your father and I will be in the living room if you need us.”
Charlotte climbed the stairs, watching Father put an arm around Mother and kiss her cheek in an effort to reassure her. They both looked equally nervous.
Soon Charlotte was kneeling in place over the spy holes, opera glasses in her hand, ear level with the remaining floorboards as she listened in.
&n
bsp; “Well, now,” said Magus Ainsworth, “as I explained yesterday, I’m going to ask you to do some things that a Latent may find difficult, but a non-gifted will find impossible. I don’t want you to worry about how hard it is, or if it takes you a little while to complete each task. What matters is that you try your best.”
Magus Ainsworth put the leather case on the table. It had an unusually ornate clasp that had been enamelled in several bright colours, but was otherwise the same as any other Charlotte had seen. The magus opened it and took out a wooden case, opening that to reveal a velvet-lined interior holding a large candle, similar to those Charlotte had seen in church. She handed it to Master Judicant, who inspected it carefully with sight and touch, from the tip of the wick to the base. After a nod, he handed back to Ainsworth, who put it on the table in front of Ben after pushing the box and the case to one side.
“We talked yesterday about how my specialism deals with temperature. Raising it, lowering it, regulating it. You might have heard of how the thermatological arts are involved in the production of iron and steel, but there are many other applications you’ll learn of, should you choose the college I represent. Now”—she stood—“I’m going to leave this room, but I will be nearby, should I be needed. Whilst I’m gone, I’d like you to ignite the wick without the use of any tools or assistance of any kind. You’re not permitted to touch the candle, but you may look at it. Do you understand the task?”
Ben nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good luck, young man,” Ainsworth said, and after giving Master Judicant a courteous nod, she left the room.
“In your own time, Latent,” Master Judicant said after he’d moved the position of the candle.
Charlotte shifted so the wick was in sight, just a few metres away. All she had to do was calm herself down and—
“Charlotte?” Her mother was coming up the stairs!
She got to her feet, glad she’d had the sense to take off her shoes, and the floorboard creaked. She froze, wondering whether it would make Master Judicant suspect foul play, but then heard her mother approaching her room. Hurriedly she grabbed the rug and laid it over the gap as quietly as she could and tiptoed to the door.
Her mother knocked once and then opened it, just as Charlotte was reaching for the handle. Her mother frowned at the way her skirt hung in disarray over the crinoline cage. Charlotte hurriedly smoothed the material. “I was lying down.”
“You’re not unwell, are you?” Poor Mother. Any sign of the slightest illness in her children alarmed her so much.
“Only a slight headache. Did you need me?”
“Father offered to go to the bakery. Would you like a currant bun to have with elevenses? We thought it might be a nice treat for Ben.”
It took everything in Charlotte’s self-control repertoire not to seem impatient. How was her mother to know Ben needed her right now? “A currant bun would be lovely, thank you.”
“Why don’t you go with him? Get some fresh air, dear?”
“I’d rather just have a lie-down, thank you, Mother. Don’t worry. I’ll come downstairs for elevenses.”
It seemed like her mother was moving at half speed as she smiled, leaned forwards, kissed her on the forehead, glanced around the bedroom in her usual way and then turned to leave. Charlotte forced herself to wait until she’d counted to two before shutting the door carefully and quietly, lest she seem too eager to shut her mother out. She’d only get suspicious.
By the time Charlotte was back into position and looking down into the room, Ben had only managed to make the wick smoulder slightly. “I think I’m rather nervous,” he said to Master Judicant, who just nodded.
Charlotte drew the air deep into her lungs, released it, knew she could do this. All she had to do was focus on the wick and—
The flame burst into existence at the tip of the wick with such violence that Master Judicant jolted to his feet. Charlotte could feel the rush of heat through the small gaps in the plaster and struggled to contain what she’d created. Ben, to his credit, kept his eyes focused firmly on the candle, but his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table. Master Judicant muttered something about fetching the magus and then Charlotte managed to withdraw her power, leaving naught but a normal flame, wavering a little. By the time she felt fully detached from it, half the candle had burned down and a pool of wax was solidifying around it.
Mother’s table! Charlotte bit her lip, feeling guilty, as Master Judicant went to the door and called Ainsworth back in.
“A resounding success!” he cheered and the magus hurried back in from where she’d been standing in the hallway.
“Good grief!” She gasped at the sight of the candle. “A most impressive demonstration, young man! Most impressive indeed!”
“I’m sorry it took a little while,” Ben said. “Nerves, I think.”
The magus smiled, snuffing out the flame with a mere glance. “Never you mind, young man, you got there in the end. Are you satisfied all was in order, Master Judicant?”
“I am. Well done,” he said to Ben with a broad smile. “Only one in ten show that sort of ability, and you managed to keep control. An excellent start.”
“It’s clear you have a place in our discipline, should you accept our offer,” Ainsworth said. “And tell your parents we’ll get the table French polished as an apology.”
Ben laughed and Charlotte smiled at the sound of it. He was standing straighter; even the slight stoop he’d adopted in his youth to hide the fact that he was so much taller than everyone else had gone. For the first time, Charlotte genuinely felt hope for her brother’s future.
Chapter 11
ONCE MAGUS ANSWORTH HAD left, the family and Master Judicant enjoyed elevenses together. There was laughter and chatter and Charlotte noted the way Master Judicant smiled more at Ben. He was impressed, genuinely so. And Ben didn’t seem too tired at all. For a little while, Charlotte forgot about the cell and the conspiracy, the threat to her father and the magnitude of the crime she was committing in tricking the magi. It was blissful.
As Charlotte cleared away the tea things, the knock on the door brought her heart back to earth. Her father greeted Magus Hopkins, and she made sure she was in the kitchen when he was invited in. She didn’t want to be distracted by him. It was time to focus once more.
Making the same excuse as before would be suspicious, so she waited as long as she could, giving the magus time to settle and arrange his test.
“I’m going to take a stroll,” she said to her parents. “Would either of you like to join me?”
“I’m finishing a bodice in the living room,” Mother said. “And I’d like Father to stay at home whilst the tests are being done. But you go out, dear.”
“I’ll just walk a couple of streets down and back,” Charlotte said. “I just need some fresh air. Oh. I left my shawl upstairs.”
It was a flimsy excuse, but enough to get her back in her room and spying through the ceiling rose once more.
“You’ve seen another example of one of these before,” Magus Hopkins was saying as he placed a timepiece on the table. It was a clock, the sort that only the very wealthiest had in their homes. Not only was the clock itself expensive, but so was the stipend paid to the local magus to keep it running to time. It was made from mahogany, curved in an elegant arch shape around the face of the clock and sloping down to a solid rectangular base. From her vantage point, Charlotte couldn’t see anything of the decoration on the front. “It works on a similar principle to the timepiece you altered accidentally. I’m going to remove the cover at the back to expose the workings and your task is to identify and move the correct parts of the mechanism to change the time displayed. I fully expect you to fail.”
“Magus Hopkins.” Master Judicant’s voice was low and stern. “You must not make any further comments about your expectations of success or failure.”
“Apologies, sir.” Hopkins looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to think of another way t
o put what he planned to say, and Charlotte drew back fearfully, convinced he could see her through the gaps. “The temptation is to adjust the hands on the clock directly. I caution you against that as they are very fragile and break easily. The mechanism inside is more robust and able to cope with . . . untrained attempts. I urge you to focus your efforts there.”
He twisted the clock around and opened the small door at the back with a tiny key. “I don’t usually give this as a test to Latents, but as you have already shown an admirable affinity to this sort of mechanism, I felt it was appropriate.”
Charlotte bit her lip in frustration. Even with the opera glasses, she couldn’t look through the wood and see inside the clock.
“If I fail this, will I be permitted to try the usual test?”
“With Master Judicant’s permission, yes. Timekeepers are in great demand, Mr Gunn. Should you prove to be talented in this area, my college will permit me to make a higher offer of compensation to your family. If you don’t wish to try this, you may of course refuse and I’ll give you something far less impressive to achieve.”
Charlotte looked at Master Judicant. He didn’t look entirely happy. It seemed that Hopkins was pushing boundaries but not so far that he could be pushed back. “How do you wish to proceed, Latent?” he asked, and Charlotte liked him that little bit more. He was willing to give Ben the choice.
“I’ll try it,” Ben said, and Charlotte’s heart sank. How could she help him without seeing the mechanism?
“Splendid.” Magus Hopkins stood. “I will leave you to your efforts. It’s less dangerous than a test of Thermaturgy or Dynamics, so I may go for a brief stroll, if that’s acceptable, Master Judicant?”
Master Judicant nodded his assent and Hopkins left. Master Judicant moved the clock to a different position on the table and Ben sat in place, staring inside.
Charlotte opened the wooden chest behind her and rifled through the contents until she found the right sketchbook. It was a desperate plan, but she hoped that if she could see the mechanism she’d drawn from the timepiece, she might be able to try something with the clock below.
