by Mark Hayden
I know exactly where the egg came from: a tunnel connected to the Old Network.
‘I have no idea where it came from,’ I lied. ‘There may well be more, and all that I can say is this: I bloody well hope not.’
‘You and me both,’ added Vicky in a stage whisper that got a few laughs.
Cora drew the seminar to a close and we got another, even bigger round of applause. ‘And now,’ she continued, ‘the Constable will address the Candidates. I should remind you that this is a timetabled event, so yes, you do have to stay. We’ll take a ten minute break, first.’ She sat down and said to me, ‘If you go into the Old Network, you can smoke.’
And so I did.
The academic staff drifted away, most pausing to say how interesting they’d found it. A number shook my hand, too. The last one was the guy who’d been restrained by Heidi Marston: the Provost of Salomon’s House, Gregory Parrish. He’s not a fan of the King’s Watch, and didn’t bother with the niceties.
‘Those bloody Druids must have had access to powerful magick. Old magick. Where did they get it from?’
‘That’s why we want to talk to Adaryn. We’d very much like to know.’
We did know, in a way. They’d got it from the damned Codex Defanatus, but we’re not sharing that information widely. Heidi knows there’s old magick on the loose, but no more. Her intervention saved me having to lie twice in public.
Parrish blinked. ‘Was there no evidence in the Caerleon Nest?’
‘I’m sure there is. If you’d like to distract the Lions of Carthage for me, I’ll have a look.’
‘Why don’t you just shoot them? That seems to be your first response to most things.’
‘Only when lives are at stake. The Lions are safe underground, and no threat to anyone except Mages trying to hatch Dragon Eggs. The Romans put them there for good reason.’
‘Hmm. Thanks for the talk, Mr Clarke. What you didn’t say was most illuminating.’
I smiled and went back into the hall. Only the panel got refreshments, and I was parched. Cora had stayed on the stage to avoid the steps, and she’d been joined by Mina. To my surprise, Mina was having an earnest conversation with both Cora and Hannah. Vicky handed me a cup of tea and said, ‘I believe you took five wickets on Saturday. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks. What are they talking about?’
‘Project Midas. It all goes way over my head.’
‘Mine, too.’
‘How’s Myfanwy?’
I filled her in on our tame Druid’s love life and grabbed more tea. Cora called the gathering to order, and Mina looked like Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight. She lifted her kurta (a gorgeous light blue over black leggings, if you’re interested) and hopped off the stage in a scuttle. She didn’t leave a glass slipper behind, but I know where to find her.
Vic and I took our places, and when the student body was settled, one of their number got up and raised his hand.
‘Yes, Matthew,’ said Cora wearily.
The young man was nattily turned out in a three piece suit that was fine down here but must have been a sweatbox in the London heat above ground. He bowed to the stage and said, ‘Thank you, Dean. I found Mr Clarke’s seminar fascinating, as did everyone I spoke to at the break, and I for one would come to hear the Constable without being told to. However, we wonder why this event has been timetabled, and why the Proctor is the only member of staff still here. No body other than the Watch has this privilege, and we question why they have been singled out for favour.’
That’s the thing about Mages. Most go to private schools where the magickal curriculum can be hidden from prying inspectors, and Mages are very polite – except when they’re trying to kill you. The mask usually slips at that point.
‘Thank you, Matthew,’ said Cora. ‘Your point deserves an answer, and that answer has to come from the Inner Council. I shall make sure that you get to ask them at the next meeting.’
He bobbed up again and said, ‘Thank you, Dean.’
Cora remained seated to introduce Hannah, and when the Boss got up to speak, she moved round to lean on the table and get closer to her audience.
Hannah shouldn’t have to make this speech. The Watch has been recruiting Watch Captains from the College for two hundred and fifty years. There should be a Guardian at Salomon’s House teaching offensive and defensive magick, and preparing those with an interest in the Watch to take a commission. There should be a Guardian, but there isn’t, and the College isn’t in a hurry to find one. And that’s why we’re here recruiting Watch Officers.
The idea is that they are teamed with an experienced Captain for field work. Poor Vicky. She got me.
Hannah’s speech was a well-judged blend of duty and opportunity, and it came from the heart. She didn’t ignore me exactly, but my invitation to join the Watch was hand delivered by Odin, which is not something you can legislate for. What she did do was big up Vicky’s achievements, and boy did my partner blush.
Hannah finished, and Cora managed to get to her feet. Just. She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and said, ‘As Matthew pointed out, we’ve kept you long enough, so rather than take questions from the floor, the Watch will be staying to see you individually. If you are interested in applying, and I personally hope that you are, then you can apply privately, via my office. Thank you for coming.’
There was polite applause for a second, until the Proctor (student police) got up and left. Most of the Candidates did likewise.
Cora sank down with a groan.
‘What’s changed?’ I said. ‘Not long ago you looked down your nose at Vicky for taking a commission, now you’re actually promoting it.’
She sighed. ‘That was a fit of pique on my part. Vicky was my student, and I wanted her to do a doctorate. When she preferred the money and the chance to see the whole world of magick, I took it a little bit too personally. What’s really changed is that I saw the Warden go up in smoke at the same time as I was speared by a piece of flying metal. The Codex Defanatus has to be found, and found quickly. Hannah, you and the Watch are the only ones who can do it.’ She tried to smile. ‘It shows maturity to change your mind, doesn’t it?’
Hannah and Vicky were down in the hall talking to a dozen or so Candidates, including the impeccably proper Matthew and the impossibly blond Saffron Hawkins. I got up to go, and Cora grabbed my arm. ‘Let them handle it. If we’re talking up here, I don’t have to move.’
‘Of course.’
She smiled the forced smile of the invalid. ‘Mina’s a whirlwind, isn’t she?’
‘Makes up for my sloth.’
‘She knows more about the magickal finances of Salomon’s House than I do. Then again, it’s not part of my remit.’
‘Yet.’
‘Don’t. Right now, I’d swap my heels for fluffy slippers. Ambition is a cruel mistress.’
That was rather alarming. The Dean must be tired. Either that or it’s a play for modesty; it’s hard to tell with Cora.
She changed the subject. ‘Mina says you’re all off to Lancashire via Little Marlow after this finishes. What’s Francesca doing up there?’
Aah. Oh dear.
‘Mina is a whirlwind, Cora, but she hasn’t read the chapter on need-to-know yet.’
This time, Cora’s grin was real. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘I can tell you we’re all staying in Hartsford Hall tonight.’
‘Isn’t Carl Christie the chef there?’
‘He is. We have a table for four booked at eight o’clock.’
‘Lucky you.’
We passed a few minutes in small talk until the last Candidate had gone. When the door to the Old Network closed behind him, Desirée appeared from the shadows with the wheelchair. ‘Can you help?’ said Cora.
I took most of her weight down the steps, and she collapsed into the wheelchair. She looked around the group. ‘Wherever it is you’re off to, good luck. And thanks. Today was a big day, and you’ve all helped me mo
re than you know.’ Desi wove a Glamour around them. Hannah got ready to push, and they disappeared into the Old Network.
‘I’ll get me bags,’ said Vicky.
Mina gave one last look at the blank dome and took my arm. ‘You were very good today. I hope the audience is a lot smaller when I’ve finished Project Midas. If I ever finish.’
We started to walk to the stairs. ‘Is there a problem? Do you need to talk to any Mages?’
‘Yes, but I don’t know the right questions. The problem is in the data. I shall pray to Ganesh tonight and give him the hand made Hartsford Hall chocolates as an offering.’
‘Lucky Ganesh.’
‘No, lucky me. And you. You more, I think.’
I wasn’t going to argue with that.
5 — Reunions
Cairndale, on the Lancashire-Westmorland border, is a funny little town. On the north side of the river, it’s all railway and red brick terraces, while the south side is all Georgian and grey stone. Except for the old mill. That’s a bit of both.
The Market Square is on the south side, a brave outpost of independent shops and cafés. There was no market today, so we got a parking space outside our favourite café and waited to shuffle our deck of cards. That image, of course, brought back Mercedes and her tarot.
Last night’s dinner had been a strictly social affair, with magick very much off the menu. Vicky is a Sorcerer, and Francesca has read all the important books in her library, so I told them what had happened in Spain. Francesca looked at Vicky, who shook her head in puzzlement before saying, ‘Tarot isn’t very popular in Salomon’s House, Conrad.’
‘Why not?’
‘It doesn’t sit well with Quantum Magick, that’s why. You’ve never seen tarot cards before, right?’
‘Correct.’
‘So how can your shuffle make sense? How can you know which cards to pick out, no matter how much you open yourself up to the Sympathetic Echo?’
‘I thought the cards did that. I thought the magick in them…’
Francesca jerked in her seat. ‘She used an enchanted deck?’
‘Even I could feel the magick in them, Keeper.’
They looked at each other meaningfully. Meaningfully to them. I was lost. Francesca broke the silence. ‘You drew four cards in total, yes?’ I nodded. ‘What did she do with the rest?’
‘Put them to one side.’
‘Without shuffling again?’
‘I’d laid them in a fan. She carefully scooped them up and put them to one side.’
‘Then she was asking a question of her own, for reasons of her own. It sounds like you had a little divine intervention there, Conrad.’
‘I didn’t feel any presence.’
‘That Troth Ring of yours is more than you think. Hence the Devil card.’
‘Aye,’ said Vicky. ‘I don’t know much about tarot, but I do know that the Devil is a warning sign – Danger, gods at work. The Allfather must have shaded the Sympathetic Echo and disrupted the answer to her private question. I bet she cursed when you’d left.’
‘And the Nine of Wands?’
‘That’s real, right enough. Things are gonna get a lot worse before they get better.’
Mina had been listening intently to this. ‘Would it be worthwhile going to another … what do you call them? Diviner?’
‘No!’ chorused Francesca and Vicky.
They were saved an explanation by the arrival of a modest silver hatchback. ‘That’s your lift,’ I said. ‘I’ll get your stuff.’
Francesca is the younger sister of the late Warden, Sir Roland ‘Roly’ Quinn, the Mage whose job Cora would like. Roly was a legend in magick and will be a tough act to follow, especially as he’s still around somewhere.
His cremation on Friday will be a modest affair, because although his body is gone, his Spirit lives on. Literally. When the Warden saved our lives in the bombing, he projected himself into the Spirit Realm and is now doing Spirit things. I’m vague on that point.
Vicky and Francesca were being collected by Susan, a mundane helper at Lunar Hall, home of the Lunar Sisters and scene of my first magickal victory. When Roly passed on, he left unfinished personal business one of the Witches at Lunar Hall, Sister Theresa, and that was why Francesca had taken leave to find out what the old Witch wanted. I have a bone to pick with Theresa, too, but I’m barred from the Hall, so that’s Vicky’s mission.
Susan is a lovely woman. Brave, too, and a great cook. She gave me a hug and said, ‘Mother Julia sends her blessings. How are you?’
‘Good. Can I introduce you to … Oh.’
I turned round, and Mina had disappeared. The prison bus had arrived, and I saw Mina quickly escorting a young woman into the coffee shop just as a boy racer’s car pulled into Market Square with bass pumping out of the open windows.
‘Sorry,’ I said to Susan. ‘Vicky will explain.’
I locked my car and took up a defensive position outside the café.
The aggressive music died, and a man gout out of the car. A big man, about thirty, wearing a sleeveless vest to show off his ink and his biceps. I looked at his legs. Thin, and his face was way too spotty for a man of his age. Steroids.
I retreated inside the coffee shop and got myself a cappuccino. Mina and Stacey were already closeted in a corner. One of the reasons I like this café is the generous provision of outdoor tables for smokers, so I took my coffee and took up watch.
Steroid Boy spoke to a fruit and veg seller. The prison bus is a familiar sight in Cairndale, and Stacey’s ex soon found out he’d missed it. He looked around, scanning the shop fronts for a clue. His eyes lingered for a second on the coffee shop, and I tensed myself for action, then he caught sight of the sign pointing over the river to the railway station. The old bridge through town is now pedestrians only, and he thought about running to look for Stacey, but why would he run when he has a car?
The music boomed and he left the square. I had a feeling he’d be back, so I finished my coffee, collected the girls and drove us out of there.
Stacey didn’t have the money yet, but she did have a phone. Mina had given her a new one, with a new number, and Stacey spent the next part of the journey glued to it.
I couldn’t work out Stacey’s age, even after I got a closer look. Her face was drawn, thin and lined and paler than white bread, unlike her hair, which was the shiny shade of jet black favoured by the prison hairdressers. Her clothes hung off her, except for a tight red top that I recognised – I’d taken it to Mina on a previous visit.
Our first job was to drive into Cairndale police station, much to Stacey’s horror. ‘Just need to sign some papers,’ I said. There was a bit more to it than that, but I wasn’t long, and I drove out with the Driscoll case as firmly buried as Diarmuid Driscoll himself.
We headed to Ribblegate Farm on the Fylde Peninsula and I heard Mina trying to persuade Stacey to stay at the farm with the Kirkhams.
‘Just for a week. Kelly is a good person. She needs help. You can clear your head.’
‘Is it like a real farm?’ said Stacey, dubiously.
‘Oh yes. With lots of cows. I’ll give Kelly some money to cover your keep.’
‘Extra money?’
‘Oh, yes.’
I hadn’t mentioned the appearance of the ex-boyfriend. For a couple of days at least, it would be good if Stacey thought that he hadn’t turned up. It would give her some time to bond with the Kirkhams, and talking of bonding, I had some of my own to do.
I left Mina and a very nervous Stacey to get a tour of the refurbished farmhouse while I went to an old shed to meet a new friend.
At the back of the shed, a very sleek border collie bitch was taking it easy while her pups got to grips with the outside world. The pups were all playing, running and bounding as much as their little legs would let them. Falls were frequent and mum was keeping a watchful eye. All the pups were cute, bright and lively, but one stood out.
The Spirit of Roly Quinn is keeping a low
profile, and I wish him luck. According to Vicky, he’ll need it, because the Spirit world is very much one of dog-eat-dog, as my new friend knows only too well. The smallest of the pups made a beeline to me while all the others gave the strange human a wide berth.
‘Hello, Scout,’ I said. ‘Pleased to see me?’
Spirits need Lux or they dissipate. One poor Spirit of unknown origin decided that I was good for food and merged itself with a new-born pup on a previous visit to become my Familiar Spirit. It’s an honour to have a Familiar, but I have no idea what to expect.
He wasn’t the smallest when he became my Familiar, but I’ve been away a lot, and lack of Lux stunts your growth. The little mite ambled up to me and blinked. It’s not that rare for border collies to have one brown eye and one blue one, but when Scout blinked, the brown eye turned green, and I felt the drain of Lux when I scratched his ear. My arm went dead with pins and needles, and I had to kneel down.
‘Easy, boy. Don’t be greedy.’
His little tongue stuck out and he rolled on his back for me to tickle his tummy.
‘Oh alright. Just this once.’
I felt the drain slow to a trickle, and he shook himself round. The green eye faded to brown, and he licked my hand.
‘I thought I’d find you here,’ said Joe, younger of the Kirkham boys. ‘He’s not grown like the others. Are you sure you still want him?’
‘How soon can I take him? I’m on an RAF base for a couple of weeks, unfortunately.’
‘Still a bit soon, especially if you’re going to treat him like a working dog.’
By that, he meant make him sleep outside. ‘Probably.’
‘Then the more he gets used to it here, the easier it’ll be. They’re getting their first vaccinations on Thursday, so about four weeks’ time do you?’
‘Brilliant.’
‘Good. Let’s get some tea.’
Stacey was sitting as far from the table as she could. The poor woman looked terrified. Mina and Kelly get on very well, and were swapping stories about having to adapt to life with an Aga. Neither had been born into Aga households, and they might as well have been talking Hindi for all that Stacey could make of it.
