by Laura Powell
She was about to go and ask them for directions, but as she turned she stumbled into someone who’d come out with a sack full of rubbish. It slipped from his grasp, disgorging a glut of plastic food wrappings. Cat went to help but he gestured her away, swearing under his breath and stuffing everything back in with irritable jerks. As he looked up their eyes met. There were dark circles under his, their expression hard and mistrustful.
“I’ve met you before.” The words came out before she could stop them.
“Yeah? So many girls, so little time,” he said shortly, pushing back a hank of dirty brown hair. She remembered his bitten fingernails.
“From Mercury Square. Outside Temple House?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
He had his back to her as he slung the bag into a Dumpster. He was taller and broader than she remembered, and wearing an apron over ill-fitting overalls. Tall, and slouching. What had Odile said to Ahab as she looked into the screen? He claims to be in search of one of your knights …
“You’re looking for a Knight of Wands,” she said.
At once, he whipped around. They faced each other, his face startled and angry; hers questioning.
“Oi, Blaine!” Someone inside yelled at him to hurry up, followed by a barrage of expletives. And the next moment Blaine was pushing past, back toward the steam and clamor of the kitchens. The way he shouldered her out of his path was familiar, too.
Bel was still talking to the man with the goatee. She was doing her special laugh, flinging back her head to display a swoop of throat and shaking out her hair. They both appeared to be enjoying the performance. However, as soon as Bel saw Cat, she moved away from the bar to join her by the door.
“Cat! I thought we’d lost you! I felt dead guilty; Greg turned up just after you left.”
“Where’s he gone now?”
“Oh, he’ll be back in a sec—he had to take a phone call. Are you all right? You look a bit peaky.”
“Yeah, I think I must be still fighting this cold. Um … you don’t mind if I head off, do you?”
Bel’s face fell. “Listen, I know it’s a bit stuffy here but Leo”—she jerked her head toward the goatee man—“says he’ll introduce us to some people. You should come over and say hello. And there’s a band just started up, and we’ve hardly touched the nibbles.”
“Please, Bel, I’m not in the right mood. Not for this sort of thing.”
Her aunt looked guilty. “No. No, of course.” She took Cat’s arm and drew her into the corridor. “It’s just that I’m worried about you, puss-cat. After the shock you’ve had … I thought a bit of distraction might do you good. Too much too soon, I guess. But I hate seeing you like this—I really do.”
The sympathy was nearly Cat’s undoing. Her encounter with Flora and the boy Blaine had unsettled her more than she’d realized.
“I hate being like this,” she burst out. “I hate being confused and angry and helpless. I hate being so weak.… Bel, have you ever blundered into something you didn’t understand? Something you were better off not knowing? And you wish you could forget it all, that life could go back to before, but it’s too late, everything’s changed. And you have to do something about it, to take back control, but you don’t know how, and—and—”
She ground to a halt at the sight of Bel’s stricken face.
“God knows, if I could make things right, I would. I …”
“ ’S’OK.” Somehow, Cat managed to smile. “Don’t worry, I’m all right really. Not like me to go all hysterical; it’s the flu germs talking. Honest.”
“You don’t look all right to me. You don’t sound all right, either.”
“I’ll be fine. I just needed to have a rant, that’s all.”
“No, Cat, I’ve screwed up; I can see that. I haven’t been straight with you and now, like you said, everything’s changed.”
“Things haven’t changed between us. That’s not what I meant. And anyhow, I won’t let us be changed, not by anything.”
“You really mean that—not anything?”
“I swear it.”
Bel looked at her fierce expression, and this time she laughed, relieved. “Right you are, puss-cat. I’ll swear to that, too. Look, let’s go home, anyhow. Have some peace and quiet.”
“No! There’s no reason for you to leave as well. I’ll only feel worse for making you miss out.”
But Cat was overruled, and a few minutes later she and Bel were walking out through the main entrance. A ten-foot Christmas tree dominated the lobby. It was a real tree, though so symmetrical it looked false, its baubles arranged in rigidly coordinated tiers. As Cat brushed past, she caught the spice of pine, a dark sap scent that made her throat ache. For a moment, her vision blurred, and she was three years old again, reaching into the prickling branches for the gleam of chocolate coins.
“THINK ABOUT IT,” TOBY was saying as they walked to Flora’s on Thursday evening. “We can be like the Famous Three or something. The Prom Queen, the Lovable Geek and—”
“You’re not lovable.”
“Aw, c’mon, haven’t you ever heard of geek chic? Instant X factor. Anyway, as I was saying. Team Arcanum: the Prom Queen, the Lovable Geek and the Goth.”
“I am not a Goth.”
“OK, not technically speaking, no. But you have to admit, you’re on the pale and prickly side,” Toby said cheerily. “I suppose you could be the Enigmatic Loner, if you’d prefer.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d shut the hell up.”
Cat’s mood did not improve when they arrived at Flora’s house, a big white-columned affair on the edge of one of London’s most fashionable parks. It was the kind of street where even the exhaust fumes reeked of money.
The door was opened by a blond woman in a silk dressing gown. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in interrogation.
“Yes?”
“We’re here to see Flora.”
“Are you sure?” The woman continued to look them up and down in a slightly unfocused fashion.
“Mummy.” Flora’s voice came from the hall beyond. “It’s all right, I’m expecting them.”
Her mother shrugged elegantly, the movement making the ice in her drink tinkle, then pinned a well-practiced smile onto her face. “Marv’llous, darling. You know how I love meeting your friends.… Sorry to be a touch dishabille—running late, as usual. I swear the party season gets more exhausting by the year.” She laughed, a little too loudly, and raised her tumbler as if to make a toast. Cat remembered Flora in the garden at Temple House, her parody of social charm.
“We’re going up to my bedroom. Have fun at the Richmonds’.” Flora wasted no time in ushering her guests upstairs. Cat, her feet sinking into thick carpeting, had only a vague impression of the rest of the house, which appeared to be done up in varying shades of white.
Flora’s bedroom continued the theme. The bed had a gauzy white canopy, and a gas fire flickered in a white marble fireplace. The pin-board above her desk was covered with snapshots of Flora and her friends at parties, on ski slopes, city breaks and country weekends. A night breeze ruffled the curtains by the window, which looked over the garden and the park beyond.
Their hostess perched on the edge of the bed, hugging a cushion to her chest. “Oh,” she said, “I should have asked. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
“Why, are you going to ring for the maid?” asked Toby.
“We don’t call her that. Mina’s like one of the family.”
Cat turned from the window. “Toby thinks you’re the prom queen,” she said abruptly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know. All the best hero squads have one. You’re the token blond cheerleading type, Toby’s the geek and I’m the Goth.”
“It was only a joke,” Toby said, reddening. “There’s no need to keep going on about it.”
“It’s a joke with a point, though. Right from the start, Flora, you made it clear that you wanted as little as
possible to do with me or Toby or anyone. Now you’ve called a team meeting. What’s changed?”
“Well, there’s no need to make a drama out of it,” Flora replied mildly, twirling her hair. “I just came across something that I thought the two of you should know about. Whether you choose to take it any further is entirely up to you.”
“So what is it?”
“Something I found—well, stumbled on, really—in that horrid tunnel under the bridge. When we were trying to find the threshold.”
Cat watched as the other girl walked over to her dressing table, took a silver key from one of the drawers and passed it to Toby. It was plain and slim, and the bow—the handle-like part at the gripping end—was a design of a circle enclosing an oval.
“It’s a zero! No way!” He turned to Cat to explain. “A zero represents a chancer, because the Fool is outside the sequence of triumphs. Do you know what the key belongs to, Flora?”
“Not for sure.” She hesitated. “But … there’s a door in Temple House that’s always locked. Its keyhole is marked with a zero, too.”
Cat frowned. “And so you think this key is meant for us?”
“The three of us—and maybe another.”
“Like who?”
“When we were in the Triumph of the Moon, there was somebody else there apart from the knight, remember. The other person on the fire escape. Now, there’s usually only one knight per move, and there aren’t any knaves in the triumph cards. And that person was just as anxious to stay out of the action as we were.” Flora took a coin from her pocket and tossed it from one hand to the other. “Here’s the thing. You know when you reach a threshold and raise the coin, it’s always marked with a sword, cup, wand or pentacle to show which court is in play? Well, when I got us out of that move, my coin was marked with a zero. That’s never happened before: after all, chancers can’t make moves of their own. Yet the coin showed that the focus of the move was on us.
“So I believe that as well as the knight and the three of us, there was a fourth chancer in the Triumph of the Moon that night. Four chancers in one move! A rarity—definitely. A coincidence? Perhaps. But then a key with a zero literally appeared on our path. And that, I think, is no coincidence at all.”
“Like an omen,” said Toby in awestruck tones. “Do you know how many chancers there are in the Game?”
“No. Until I met the two of you, I never encountered more than one other at any one time. Of course, there must be a few knaves who began as we did.” She gave a slight smile. “It’s only when we break the rules that we make a difference; I think that’s why the kings and queens like to have us in the Game. There’s always the possibility we’ll slip up and interfere in such a way as to tip the balance of power from one court to another.
“Now, I could be wrong about this key business. It might not fit the door I’m thinking of. It might have nothing to do with anything. But I thought you should know.”
Cat was still frowning. “Why didn’t you say anything about the key when you found it?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking straight. We were in such a rush I just stuffed it in my pocket and carried on with getting us out of the Arcanum.”
Hmm. Cat wasn’t entirely convinced by this. She was thinking, too, of the boy called Blaine, and whether he could be the mysterious fourth chancer in the Triumph of the Moon. But if Flora could take her time deciding what and when to share, then so could Cat. “OK. What do you want to do next?”
“Well, if you’re interested, I thought the three of us could go and try the key.”
“In Temple House? Right now?”
“Sure—” There came a noise from downstairs, raised angry voices and a crashing sound, and she stiffened. “Wait here a sec.”
As soon as she’d left, Toby, who had been fidgeting in his chair, got to his feet and began to pace the floor. “This is a major development, you know. Perhaps we’ll find some ancient prophecy! Or a magic weapon. Anything’s possible.”
“That’s what scares me.”
But in spite of Cat’s misgivings, she was just as curious as Toby. What if the key really did lead to something important, something that could literally unlock the secrets of the Arcanum?
“Hey, Cat, if you could win any triumph, what would it be?”
“Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Whichever’s the one for being filthy rich, then,” she said, to keep him quiet.
“Ah, the Empress. It’s a popular choice. Me, I’d go for something like the Chariot, maybe.”
“What’s that for?”
“Heroism.” He grinned. “I quite fancy being the Clark Kent of the Arcanum.”
“The last thing the Arcanum needs is men in tights. It’s already quite frightening enough.”
Flora came back and Toby tried her—“So which triumph would you choose to win? Cat was saying she’d pick the Empress.”
“I’d rather not discuss prizes, if you don’t mind,” said Flora primly. “Players say that if you talk about getting a prize, you jinx it.”
This hadn’t been the case with the two knights Cat had talked to. They’d seemed quite happy to discuss their triumphs. However, Flora’s dream prize was her own business, and Cat wasn’t going to pry. It might invite unwelcome questions in turn.…
“Are you ready to go?” the other girl asked. “My parents have just left, so we might as well get a move on. I know a shortcut.”
The other two nodded, trying to suppress a flutter of nerves. Their hostess, however, looked utterly composed as she slipped the key into her pocket and made her preparations to leave.
They followed her downstairs and into the drawing room at the back of the house. This was as polished, pale and orderly as the rest of the place, except for the mirror above the fireplace, which had a crack running across the center as if something had been violently hurled against it. Flora made no comment, however, as she led them through the French doors and into a garden glittering with frost.
A gate in the wall opened onto a tree-lined path that ran alongside the inner railings of the public park. The noise and lights of the city were not far away, but the expanse of grass unfolding through the darkness felt as otherworldly as any scene in the Arcanum. It was bitterly cold.
“No one’s supposed to be here after sunset—the main gates are locked at five,” Flora told them. “You have to keep your eye out for the park wardens, and sometimes a tramp gets in.”
Then she ducked under the rails, her footprints black in the silver grass. She was heading in the direction of a summerhouse, built like a toy temple with slender white columns and a domed roof, and set on a small rise.
As the other two hastened to catch up, they felt a familiar prickle on their palms. Toby pointed to the summerhouse. “I think that’s a threshold.”
“There’s always been one there,” Flora said casually, as they walked past. “Well, for as long as I’ve been in the Game, anyway.”
“And how long have you been playing?”
“Since I was ten years old.”
God. Cat tried to picture a blond girl-child, adrift among the monsters and marvels. No wonder Flora was a bit schizo. “I thought thresholds disappear once a move is over.”
“Obviously, then, the move in play here is still incomplete.”
“Have you been into it?” Toby asked.
“No,” she said crisply. “Come on.”
Reaching the other side of the park, they climbed over the railings onto a busy main road. From there, it was fifteen minutes’ walk to Mercury Square.
“You must’ve been through a lot of cards by now,” Cat said to Flora as they made their way through the streets. “Does that mean you know what you’re in for as soon as you switch sides at a threshold?”
“I haven’t been into all that many moves, as it happens. Regular trips to the Arcanum are bad for the health. And anyway, the Arcanum never brings a card to life in the same way t
wice—there might be similarities, but no two moves are exactly alike.… Turn left, Toby. Yes, it’s just down here.”
Temple House appeared lifeless, its windows shuttered. As they pushed open the door, the sense of abandonment became even more complete. The gold curtain had gone, and the mat in front of the door was littered with junk mail. The room to the right of the stairs had been stripped bare; in the one on the left, dust sheets sagged in lumpy mounds. The drowsiness Cat had experienced on previous visits still hung in the air, though without the confusion of the crowds it was easier to shake off. However, she noticed that the three of them were moving a little more sluggishly.
Flora led the way up the stairs to the third floor and into the mirrored ballroom. The last time they had been there, it had been brightly thronged; now their reflections in the glass were as dim as ghosts. All the same, Cat wasn’t sure she trusted the deserted feel of the place. Eyeing the blank TV screen suspended from the ceiling, she wondered who could be watching them, and from where. Languid Alastor; chilly Odile; Lucrezia with her dark opulence; Ahab, somber as a tombstone.
Flora seemed to know what she was thinking. “It’s fine; Temple House belongs to all players. No one’s going to interfere. Now, look at this.”
They were standing in front of the mirrored wall that faced the doors. Its glimmering surfaces looked as uniform as the others lining the room, but Flora guided them to the central panel, where, peering closely, they saw there was a small keyhole to one side, with an oval—a zero—etched around it in the glass.
“I’ve been over every inch of this house,” she said, “in every room, down every corridor, at times when the place has been heaving with people or as derelict as today, and this is the only door I’ve never seen open. I’ve never even seen anyone attempt to go through it, or found so much as a thumbprint on the glass.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Toby asked.
Flora didn’t waste time on ceremony or second thoughts. She fitted the silver key to the lock and turned it with one brisk movement; there was a click, and the panel sprang open, sliding smoothly over to one side. It revealed a narrow flight of stone stairs.
