by April White
“When man of War
And Sight portends,
What great one lost,
And young one sends,
The first one seeks,
The hurt one mends,
What War begins,
The dark night ends.”
The silence was almost louder than my voice until someone said, “Whoa.”
Ava’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “It’s not night, the opposite of day – it’s knight, the black knight of chess.”
“But why a chess piece for the Monger artifact, and what can it do?” asked Adam.
Archer seemed lost in thought as he moved a white pawn forward two spaces. “Chess is an ancient game of strategy.” He moved a black pawn forward one. “Each piece is granted its own very specific move.” The white bishop slid all the way out to the edge of the board. “Offenses are plotted several turns ahead.” He slid a black pawn forward to block the white bishop’s attack on the queen. “And the weakest defenses …” The white bishop took the black pawn, “become the strongest attacks …” He moved the black knight out from behind its pawn to take the white bishop, “when the knights are in play.”
Tom had followed the chess moves with a kind of mesmerized fascination, and at the end, he looked into my eyes with an expression of complete astonishment and said, “I think I know how to steal the ring.”
It was agreed that only a very few people would know the entire plan, and everyone else would be fed just their piece of the puzzle. This was not only to protect the game, but also the players, since no one could tell someone else what they didn’t know.
It was after midnight when we finally left the chess room in the Monger Tower, and we all understood now why the Monger artifact was a chess piece. Every facet of the plan could be acted out on the board, and every possible attack and defense could be anticipated.
Tom was utterly brilliant at it. When he physically held the black knight in his hand, he could spot every flaw and weakness of every part of the plans we discussed. He tried it with different pieces, and he tried it with the knight in his pocket. None of those options worked – only when the black knight was in his hand did his strategic brain turn on and practically light up. The rest of us tried it too, but only the leprechaun, with his part-Monger blood, could feel a difference in his tactical thinking, and it was agreed by all that Tom’s strategies were by far the best.
When each of us understood our own jobs, and plans had been laid for the next day, we finally said good night and went our own ways. I grabbed Ringo’s hand before he turned toward Connor’s room. He was taking Logan’s bed, and Logan would sleep in the shape of a Kitten curled up at the foot of his brother’s mattress.
“Do you want to come with me to get Charlie tomorrow?”
He nodded, and I didn’t like that I couldn’t see his expression in the dim light. “Yeah, I’m comin’.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I know ‘ow I feel, I just don’t know ‘ow she does.”
He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him.
Grayson Manor – 1554
I left a note on the whiteboard just outside Mr. Shaw’s office that Archer, Ringo, and I had gone to 1554 to bring Charlie back with us. I didn’t add the words ‘if we can,’ despite the fact that none of us was at all certain she’d want to come.
But we needed her. Charlie’s conduit abilities would make a huge difference to phase one of our plans – no one else I’d ever Clocked with had made transporting a lot of people so easy, and our plans depended on being able to take a lot of trap-builders into the woods past the Monger perimeter patrol.
Ringo brought us fresh scones and coffee that he’d scored from Annie, and Archer, with new appreciation for all things food-related, proclaimed him the very best man he’d ever known. It was early – only a few people were moving around the school – and we’d decided to leave from Archer’s cellar room.
I knew how to get us into the same cellar in 1554. It’s how we’d gotten back to Tudor England before, and it made sense to cut down on the number of variables I had to face Clocking us there. I was dressed in my clean buckskin trousers and boots for a slightly modified version of a sixteenth-century man. The capes we all wore were our concession to the times, and I was hoping we could avoid being seen by anyone but Charlie.
The trip backward was long and cold. The time we spent between seemed longer during the big backward leaps, and I spent the first few moments after we landed trying to keep my scone down.
“Everyone okay?” I whispered to Archer and Ringo. Archer reached out for my hand and I marveled again, as I’d done ever since we were reunited, at how warm his skin was. Ringo just nodded and got up to make sure we were alone in the cellar.
“He’s struggling with this,” Archer murmured as his eyes tracked Ringo in the dim light.
My heart hurt for Ringo. I had spent nearly every waking moment for the last several weeks with him, and I had learned to read his silences. This one was cloaked in self-protection, and it was the kind that could turn into a hard shell if he remained wrapped in it for too long.
He pronounced us alone in the cellar, so we could use our normal voices.
“If Henry was still here, this would be so much easier,” I said sadly.
“If ‘Enry ‘ad lived, Lady Grayson wouldn’t ‘ave brought Charlie ‘ome with ‘er. She would ‘ave her own son.” There was an edge to Ringo’s voice that I hoped wasn’t bitterness.
“Valerie planned to leave court soon after she returned from France, correct?” Archer asked.
“That’s what she said. And since we don’t know what Grayson Manor looks like or where it is, we can either go upstairs and find someone to tell us, or I can try Clocking us directly to Charlie.”
Neither Ringo nor Archer looked too happy about that option. I had explained that it was how I’d found Archer twice – the first time on the platform in 1944, and the second time in the Camden Catacombs.
“My greatest concern is that you don’t know Charlie as well as you know me, and that might get in the way of being able to Clock directly to her.”
“I know what she looks like – that’s what I have to visualize,” I protested.
“Ye know what she used to look like. Who knows what changes good food and fortune ‘ave made to ‘er.” It wasn’t bitterness in Ringo’s voice. It was … regret?
“Well,” I sighed, “you know her best, but you’re not a Seer, so I can’t See her through your memories of her. You’re going to have to paint a picture of her with your words.”
He looked startled. “‘Ow do I do that?”
“Tell me about the time you spent together in your flat. What were her habits? What did she like to do?”
Ringo looked thoughtful and settled himself back against a pillar. “Well, since she’d spent most of ‘er life dressed as a lad just to survive, she preferred skirts when we were ‘ome. She asked me if I’d sell some of ‘er drawin’s to buy ‘er a lady’s clothes. I took the ones with children in them down to the bookseller and sold them as illustrations for books. ‘E said ‘e knew a publisher who would want more of them, so what ye saw in our flat was just a part of what she’d drawn.”
Charlie’s drawings of the Otherworlders she saw among regular people were magical and totally perfect for children’s books. The ones that had decorated their flat were the kind of illustrations that inspired storytellers to write.
“I was able to buy a skirt and two blouses at the same shop where I found yer trousers, and when she put them on the first time, she cried.” Ringo’s voice got a little gravelly with emotion. “She cried that someone ‘ad thought ‘er drawin’s were worth money. She cried that she could earn money on ‘er feet, and she cried that I’d gone out and bought ‘er somethin’ that wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t food, and she already ‘ad a lad’s clothes – it was just somethin’ nice that she’d wanted for ‘erself.”<
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Ringo looked away from us and took a deep breath. “So many things ‘ad caused ‘er pain in ‘er life, she didn’t know ‘ow to be ‘appy. Those clothes made ‘er ‘appy in a way I’d never seen from anyone, and I resolved to do everythin’ I could to see that smile again, even if it came with tears.”
He looked down at his hands. “I used to steal to survive. It’s the most selfish thing a person can do – take from another to feed ‘imself. Charlie began sellin’ ‘er drawin’s to the bookseller to buy food for us, so I started usin’ the money I earned from Gosford to buy ‘er paper, pens, books, and cloth. We were takin’ care of each other with what we’d earned from our own labor, and for the first time in my life, carin’ for someone else was more important than feedin’ myself.”
I reached out and took hold of one of his hands, and Archer took the other. It was an unconscious show of solidarity, but the connection between them gave me a sudden flash of Charlie. “Archer, give me your hand,” I said with urgency. Ringo tried to let go, but I gripped his hand hard. “No, don’t.” Archer took my hand, and through his Sight, an image of Charlie came into focus. It was hesitant at first, but then the image got stronger as I felt Ringo relax. His eyes closed as he remembered Charlie, and his face suffused with love. In that moment I knew I could find her.
“Okay. Got her,” I said quietly.
I let go of their hands and went to the spiral wall. “You can stay here, and I’ll pick you up on my way back if you like.”
I laughed at how fast both of them made it to my side. I took a breath, fixed Charlie in my mind, and began to trace.
The room we landed in was dark except for a seam of sunlight shining under the heavy velvet drapes. The time between had been brief, and I was able to stand up without dizziness immediately.
“Who’s there?” someone whispered.
I debated my options for how to answer as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. We’d Clocked into a bedroom, dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped with swathes of fabric, and the person who had whispered sat up suddenly with a gasp.
“Ringo?” It was Charlie’s voice, but not her accent – this one was soft and clipped with posh precision, and her tone held so much hope that my heart squeezed in my chest.
“It’s me,” he said, as he got to his feet and strode to the bed.
Charlie scrambled out from under the covers and hurled herself at him. “It’s you,” she breathed.
He caught her in his arms, and she held him for all she was worth. I couldn’t see much of her face, buried as it was in his shoulder, but then she started giggling and I knew it was happiness that drove her.
There was surprise in Ringo’s voice when he finally pulled back. “Are ye well?”
I opened the drapes just enough to put a beam of light into the room, and Charlie caught my eye. “Thank you for bringing him,” she said a little shyly. She ducked her head, then met his eyes and smiled. “You’re here.”
“I am.” His voice was full of emotion and he cleared his throat. “Char?” He sat on the edge of her bed, and she sat next to him. Shyness had dampened some of her enthusiastic greeting, but her fingers reached for his, and she seemed relieved when he held her hand. “I ‘ave two questions for ye.”
She looked into his eyes with some mix of hope and trepidation. “Yes?”
I held my breath, wondering what he would ask.
Ringo exhaled. “The first question will ‘ave to wait, but I promise ye I’ll get to askin’ it.”
“Very well,” she said softly. He touched her face to bring her gaze back up to his.
“The second question is a ‘ard one, and I’m sorry to ‘ave to ask it of ye.”
She took a deep breath and tried not to look nervous.
“Would ye come with us now? We need yer ‘elp – somethin’ only ye can do or I’d never put ye in danger – and we can bring ye straight back after if ye like.” He sounded so nervous, and the expression in her eyes went from hope to fear to anger. The anger surprised me until I heard the words that were attached to it.
“Of course I’ll come with you – whatever you need. If it’s something dangerous, you’ll want me at your back. I’ve learned archery now, so I don’t need a frying pan anymore, but you will not bring me straight back until you’ve asked the second question.”
Ringo stared at her, and I had to admit, her confidence startled me too. And then he smiled, and her fierce expression softened into a huge grin. She stood up and made a shooing motion. “Go over there while I change into my clothes. Saira,” she looked at me with shining eyes, “perhaps you’ll help me?”
She ducked her head in a quick curtsy to Archer, then smiled and held her hands out to me. I gave her a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Charlie.”
She drew me around behind a screen into her dressing room. There were several elaborate gowns draped over a rack, and several more in simpler fabrics for day wear. The whole room had been full of beautiful furniture, with museum-quality rugs and artwork that made it clear she’d been living in luxury.
“I assume trousers will be the best choice?” she asked, as she took in my own wardrobe.
I nodded with a grimace. I knew how much she liked dresses. “Just at first. Then you can have full run of the attics at St. Brigid’s.”
She smiled and dug into a trunk. She pulled out a pair of dark trousers that were similar to tights, but thicker. “I had these made for riding. Long skirts are quite hard to move in, aren’t they?”
I laughed. “They’re the worst.”
She quickly pulled off the linen nightgown, and I noticed that her tiny frame had gotten stronger. She saw my surprise and smiled shyly. “Lady Grayson understands why I’ve taken up riding, climbing, and archery, though no one else on the estate can fathom it. If I hear ‘just a girl’ one more time from someone hired to teach me, I might have to resort to the frying pan again.”
I laughed out loud and marveled at this young woman who now had natural confidence threaded into her bearing and her voice. She’d lost the accent of the street, and the unconscious fear that had hovered around her since we’d first met was gone.
She was dressed in a tunic and the leggings, and was pulling on her boots when Ringo knocked on the screen. “Do ye need to see Lady Grayson before we go?” he asked.
She looked at me. “I’d like to speak to her properly, but I don’t yet know about what.”
I nodded. She needed to know if she was going for good or just for a short trip. “I can bring you back here to the moment just after we leave – does that work?”
A relieved smile crossed her face. “That would be perfect.” She stood and pushed aside the screen. Ringo’s gaze lingered on her face, and then he stepped back to let us go first.
“After you, miladies.”
Raven
We clocked straight back to Archer’s cellar, and the difference was astounding. With Charlie along, I barely felt the effects, and both Ringo and Archer seemed immediately fine. This was what we needed to take the trap-builders into the woods.
In terms of real time, we’d been gone less than an hour, and I bounded upstairs to let Mr. Shaw and my mom know we were back. I ran into them in the hall, just having come from a meeting with Alex Rowan and the others who were planning the traps.
Mr. Shaw grinned. “You’re back!” he said happily, and my mom looked behind me hopefully.
“Did you bring Charlie home?” she asked. She might have missed Charlie almost as much as Ringo had.
“She’s with Ringo in the kitchen. We took her from bed without any breakfast.”
My mom kissed my cheek. “I’ll just go and see what she needs,” she said as she hurried away.
“Your mum has missed having someone to take care of,” Mr. Shaw said fondly as he watched her go.
I reached up and kissed his cheek. “Maybe you and I should stop being so tough and self-sufficient all the time. We could probably allow for a little care-taking every once in a while,
right?”
He chuckled. “I will if you do.”
“You’re on.”
I walked with him to his office, and he filled me in on the various kinds of traps that had been planned for the woods that surrounded St. Brigid’s. We discussed some of the finer points, including the use of the Shifter animals to lure the Mongers away from the school. As far as we could tell, there were about thirty or so men surrounding the school, armed with guns that were illegal to carry in England. Because they had tried and failed to get in past the wards, they seemed to be engaged in a modern day siege – blocking anyone from getting in with food and supplies, and hoping to starve us out. Clearly they had never been in the cellars, or they would have realized how long Mrs. Taylor and Annie could feed us all on the supplies they had in stock.
When the Mongers first came to St. Brigid’s after Seth Walters took over, they only guarded the front gates. But when Adam had led forty mixed-bloods into the school through all the various entrances he’d discovered around the property, Walters had apparently pitched a raging fit and placed guards all around the walls of the school grounds.
“By the way, Miss Simpson allowed Raven Walters and her mixed-blood boyfriend to stay here last night. There are those among us who aren’t happy having a full-blooded Monger in the school, but the headmistress was adamant that she be allowed to remain.”
“Hmm. Maybe she Saw something that includes Raven.” I shrugged, and Mr. Shaw looked hard at me under furrowed eyebrows.
“I was under the impression that you and Miss Walters were not the best of friends,” he said suspiciously.
“We’re not.”
His eyes narrowed. “So why aren’t you afraid she’ll act as a spy for her uncle?”
I looked Mr. Shaw straight in the eyes and said with complete seriousness. “I want her to.”
