Chapter sixty-five

Just east of the Great Wall

 

The raids began that night. No-one knew exactly where they came from, but the methods were always the same: to pick off an elf at the edge of the camp, and slit their throats. Beside each body a crude slogan was daubed on the ground in blood. They said things like ‘go home scum’ or ‘our land, so leave’.  The troops’ response to this was a mixture of disbelief and terror. Most of them refused to accept that the raiding parties could be elves, but Viola knew that it had to be the Portalians.

They could do nothing more except hold the Wall and wait for the Emperor. By now it was mid-December and the wind raced across the wide plain and cut through them. They huddled together more and more and hoped: every noise that they heard from the west was interpreted as the coming of the relief force.

Viola, Kath and Potentilla spent most of their time inside the Wall. Viola had become obsessed with the idea that there was a scar or a rent where the sphere had been obliterated. She spent a long time sitting and staring into the air where she imagined the hole might be, or walking around it squinting or closing one eye. Kath sat and brooded about home, examined parts of the Wall’s workings, or ventured out to talk to some of the archers who were on watch. Potentilla, on the other hand, wanted to be outside, moving on, taking the fight to the enemy, but she stayed loyally inside with her superior officer, wondering what it was that Viola thought she was seeing.

 

It took the Emperor three days to arrive with the rest of the army – a long enough time for morale in the vanguard to be sapped considerably. However, he came with a substantial force –more than sixty thousand bodies. They swept through the Wall and relieved the troops at the front who were stood down and told to return home. They were all very pleased to go.

The Emperor was delighted with Viola and her team. He spoke to them several times about the workings of the Wall and got a scribe to take copious notes. Viola tried on several occasions to explain about the possible rift inside the Wall, but Pallatian, being an eminently practical person, didn’t seem inclined to worry about something that he couldn’t see. He was more worried about how to open and close the wall: his command words still didn’t work without Viola’s gestures and so he spent some time learning them from her. At no point did he ask her how she knew them, which spooked her a little. Another thing was that she caught an element of wariness about the way that he spoke to her, which contrasted strongly with the very assertive manner that he had with all of his other subjects.

The chief military commanders of the expeditionary force: the Emperor, General Titanius, Colonel Valerian and another group leader, Colonel Cato, had a council of war, in the Emperor’s tent, which had been pitched directly in front of the Wall.  Viola was allowed to attend as an observer, and to answer questions. None of the other commanders seemed to be as wary of her as Pallatian was, and that put Viola’s mind somewhat at ease. She didn’t mind getting praise for her achievements, but all this Ophia stuff, was, frankly, just a bit creepy.

Titanius was very concerned about the threat from the flank from Portalis. It was his strongly worded opinion that they could not make progress eastwards until that threat was countered. After a long discussion the others agreed, and the decision was made to split the force into three – a northern group of thirty thousand elves to attack Portalis, a southern group of ten thousand troops to hold the Wall, and an eastern group of twenty thousand to advance slowly to Ortia and chase off any knights who were in the area, or, if that proved impossible hold a position in front of Ortia and show that the Emperor had returned.  As part of this plan Viola asked permission to go ahead in a small advance guard, to check the lie of the land and Pallatian agreed readily. Viola thought that however pleased Pallatian may have been with her he recent work he now seemed very relieved to see her go.

 

Just before they left, however, the Emperor came to talk to them. They were standing by the Imperial carriage that was, hopefully, going to carry them off to Ortia at top speed. The Emperor accepted their bows and salutes and then assumed a casual tone, which, whatever his intention, put none of them at their ease.

‘You’re quite a team!’ he said, jovially, ‘and a wonderful example of international co-operation’

 ‘Not intentionally’ murmured Kath, not wanting anyone to hear. Unfortunately it seemed that Pallatian had excellent hearing. He turned to her and smiled.

‘Well, sometimes serendipity is best, isn’t it, Dr Fielding’ he purred,’ By the way, I thought we had arranged for you to go home. Has someone been remiss?’

Viola glared at Kath and made a face indicating that she should try to behave. Kath felt a bit picked on – he really hadn’t been meant to hear what she’d said.

‘No, your majesty’ explained Viola, ‘I have asked Dr Fielding to accompany me back to Ortia. There are some other Dwarven Magic problems that we’d like her to look at’

Pallatian nodded; this explanation seemed to satisfy him.

‘Yes, it would make sense to look at the city wall in Ortia again. I hear that it has been rendered inoperative’

 Kath nodded non-committedly. She was sure that there was nothing that she could do save the city wall. The Emperor waited politely for a second or so and then turned to Viola.

‘Major – I have some documents that I would like you to give to the Proconsul. They are mostly legal papers relating to the change in government in Ortia. I will get one of my clerks to pass them over to you before you leave’

‘Thank you, sir’ Viola muttered flatly.

‘Thank you’ said Pallatian, ‘I fully expect to see you in a position of some authority in Proconsul Antonius’s new government, I really do. They really are such exciting times, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, sir’ Viola mumbled, attempting a smile.

‘Well done, everyone’ the Emperor said, preparing to end the conversation, ‘you’re an example to all of us and especially all elven womenfolk throughout the Empire…’

Viola could see Kath tense with irritation, and the last thing she wanted was any conversation about gender, race, politics or any combination of the three. Also, she had one more thing that she really felt she had to say to the Emperor and so she used this potentially awkward moment to say it.

‘Your majesty’ she said, ‘could I beg your patience for a second more?’

Pallatian stopped in his tracks and rather gracefully swung round to face Viola again. He smiled a smile that said ‘I’m always happy to make time for you’, but his eyes were already looking to his rank and file of beautiful soldiers, all ready to march on to war.

‘What is it, major?’

  ‘I think that you should get some mages from the university to look at the space where the sphere disappeared… I worry that it is now some sort of area of dimensional weakness’

The Emperor frowned slightly but otherwise kept his up mask of hearty good cheer.

‘What makes you think that?’ he asked

‘I just have a feeling about it – it doesn’t look right to me’ answered Viola,

Pallatian stared at her oddly again, as if she were some unusual animal that he was trying to identify. Viola felt like he was mentally undressing her, but in a way that suggested analysis rather than lust.

‘You seem to have a lot of intuitions, major’ he murmured, narrowing his eyes, ‘one wonders exactly where they come from…’

Viola felt very vulnerable and could only shake her head and hope for his gaze to leave her.  She had no answer other than the unspoken one – that they all came from Ophia – but she had no idea why she should be receiving them.

‘I will make sure that we investigate it fully’ he said, finally looking away, and, then, after a few additional bland pleasantries, he left them.

They were indescribably relieved when he finally moved on and excited about the prospect of returning home. But they all knew the bitter truth of what lay in their immediate future – that they were taking orders for Marthian’s political execution back with them to Ortia.

Chapter sixty-six

The Proconsul’s Garden: Ortia

 

Boo scampered over to the centre of the garden and stopped by the central sundial and ornamental fountain. She jumped up on to the edge of the fountain surround and began lapping up the water. She no idea of the desperation she had engendered in her pursuers.   

Lily spotted her first, ‘she’s here’ she shouted, running full tilt towards the little creature. Hardacre, who was heading towards the other end of the substantial garden, shouted out ‘don’t spook her!’, and turned on the spot to run back towards Lily. In another part of the garden Erik had run into a pyracantha thorn bush and was desperately trying to extricate himself. Marthian stood, arms folded, watching them.  She sensed that any interruption might just make things worse.

Boo had finished drinking and she began to buzz loudly. Her wings unfolded from nothing to fill the air behind her. She shivered slightly and prepared for take-off.

Hardacre was now just a few feet in front of her and he let out a very small cry of distress, almost too small to be audible. He stopped and lifted his hands up as if to grab the creature, but he knew that it was too late.  

‘I don’t think that I can go with her – it’s too risky…’ he said to no-one in particular and everyone in earshot, ‘but if I lose Boo… all our plans will fail’

It was now or never. Boo’s wings were fully open and the wormhole was beginning to form, pink and grey and hazy.

‘Canlyn’ whispered Hardacre, stress etched in his face, wondering whether his teleport would work.  Lily appeared in front of him, apparently out of nowhere.  She grabbed his left arm.

‘Maybe I can help’ she whispered. Very softly she murmured ‘arkesis’

Much to Hardacre’s astonished there was the familiar sense of attachment and assistance that he always felt when another magical spirit lent him some energy. It wasn’t very much, but it was something, and maybe just enough. It was too late to stop now, anyway – he was primed by Lily’s aid-spell and the accumulated energy would now have to be dissipated somehow. An experienced witch would have no trouble grounding the magical charge, but Hardacre had no way of knowing whether aborting the spell might cause Lily serious damage; he could certainly sense that she was very inexperienced.  All he could do now was hope for the best.

Boo disappeared and, just half of a second later, Hardacre and Lily were pulled through after her. There was a high ‘pop’ and they were gone.  

 

Marthian and Erik stared for a very long time at the space where the disappeared people had been. The sunlight on the garden began to harden and grow cold.

‘Who on earth are you?’ asked Marthian, in Ethian, her face as dark as the winter sky.

Erik’s eyes opened very wide and his breath was laboured. He looked down at his ruined shirt and then at Marthian.

‘Well, for that matter, who are you?’ asked Erik.

‘I am the Proconsul of Ortia – and I’m the one who gets to ask the questions in my own palace’

‘Well then, I am Prince Erik, youngest son of Albert, King of Formor’ he said, a tremor of fear wavering his voice.

If Erik had expected Marthian to be impressed, then he was sorely disappointed. She looked as if steam was about to come out of her ears.

‘Oh no, you must be jesting with me’ she spluttered, her voice getting louder as she spoke,’ Prince of Formor… no… no! What am I meant to do with you? ’

 Erik blanched, and he could think of nothing to say. In his desperate search for a topic he stared up at a plant with huge waxy green leaves growing up from its base.

‘Is that a Heliconia?’ he asked, completely distracted from what had gone before.

Marthian stopped and looked up at what Erik was staring at. She felt like she had been a log careering downstream that had suddenly been pulled into calm waters by an unexpected eddy.

‘Well…’ she said cautiously, ‘it is, yes… how do you know that?’

‘I’m the curator of the Castle Uberwald Natural History Collection’ he said, proudly, ‘And we have both volumes of Arcadius’s On Tropical Plants…’  

‘What’s that?’ asked Marthian, despite herself.  

‘The best ever work on tropical plants with really impressive flowers’ he said, ‘do you not know it?’

 Marthian shook her head, she assumed that it had been published in the last nine hundred years and so was unknown to her.

‘I’ll get my father to order you one from VUP. I have an allowance for books’

‘Vyrnia University Press?’ Marthian guessed

‘Yes, of course’

‘They have the best printing in the two continents there, you know…’

‘I didn’t know that. We’ve been isolated for a long time, you know’

Erik’s eyes greedily lapped up the wonders of the Proconsul’s garden. Marthian’s eyes were briefly dragged in the same direction: it really was a marvellous hortarium. By an effort of will she snapped out of her reverie.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded

Erik seemed to find it hard to focus on anything but the garden. He frowned and shook himself.

‘Lily and I are on an adventure’ he said, ‘and now Lily has gone on without me’

‘Was that Lily with Mr Hardacre?’ asked Marthian

‘Yes’ said Erik, ‘Princess Lily of Amansk’

‘Right’, said Marthian, ‘I should have known that you royals would travel around in groups’   

‘No – we don’t usually – she’s the first princess that I’ve ever met, in fact, and I never do anything with my brothers’

Marthian shook her head very slowly. She couldn’t believe that he was here. He was a walking diplomatic incident. But now that she had calmed down she realised that she would have to act with extreme caution. As far as she knew the Empire was at peace with Formor and the Crimson Knights were enough foes to be going on with.

‘Prince Erik – there has obviously been some dreadful accident that has brought you here’ she said, ‘but I assure you that we will get you home as soon as possible’

But Erik was only half listening. He had begun to wander towards an Opuntia cactus, shaped like a spikey ‘y’. You could see that he was itching to ask what it was, indeed, what everything was.

‘Get me home?’ he said, ‘why would you do that?’

Marthian had no idea how to deal with this strange young man.

‘Because your father will want you back?’ she suggested, frowning.

 Erik smiled and looked back at her.

‘Oh no – I’m sure he won’t’

Marthian had run out of things to say, so she just waited for Erik to explain what he meant.

‘Anyway – why would I want to leave?’ he said, standing in the succulent bed and testing the strength of the Opuntia’s spines on the pad of his thumb, ‘This is the most wonderful place I’ve ever seen!’ 

Chapter sixty-seven

Monurbis

The Baron woke early and rose before the first light of dawn. He had had no difficulty sleeping but since Balliwick had gone he had been waking early, anxious for his advisor to return. All that he could think of now was the march into the city of Huatalcan, the northernmost of the cities of Eddorre. This was the least of the six great cities that the Tlaxacans had wrested from the Empire:  In Visnerorian it had been known as Veccianus, and then there were Illimion, Mariassus, Arianis, Phryginus and Claria.

These names were imprinted on von Eisen’s mind. Among the items that he kept in a trunk in his train was a book of very old engravings of the six cities, showing their wide avenues, elegant domed mansions and public spaces. The book had belonged to his great uncle, a man who believed himself to be the grandmaster of the Crimson Flame order but who had, at that time, no followers except his grandnephew.  He would sit the little boy at the kitchen table and tell stories of the death of civilisation in the east; he would point to the structures now desecrated, and tell him that they were his destiny.

But now he needed to know now was what Balliwick had found in Huatalacan. Was it occupied? Was there was an army to fight? Was the power of Whitecloak completely destroyed? All these questions crowded into his mind as he waited. As usual, he relied on his advisor to know the answers.        

 

He went for a walk through the fortified city that he had acquired with so little effort. It still carried the stain of Tlaxacan invasion but everywhere he had his men pulling down and burning, so that the marks of the enemy were being rubbed out.  He admired the mix of elven strength and skill that was revealed – its strong walls, the engineering of its foundations on the mountainside, its strategic position. It puzzled him that Balliwick seemed to find the city so uncongenial. Was there something that he was missing? He knew that many in his army felt that the green eyed creatures in the mountains were a brooding malevolency but he, personally, couldn’t feel that – he sensed no danger in them and so gave them very little thought. Sometimes in his sleep he had dreamt of them as little green lights hung up all over the mountainsides, and he would walk among them as if he were floating through a galaxy of green stars.  

After wandering the streets for twenty minutes or so he walked up the hill that led to the highest battlements in the city. He climbed until he had the best view out to the south east, across the foothills and over the scattered woodlands and palms that grew in number as the plains stretched southwards. The city of Huatalacan was just a vague smudge of grey on the horizon, but his army could be there in three days, and after that, who knows how far they could go.  The Empire could be reinvigorated by human blood and a new world could be created out of the ashes of evil. And that new world could still be fashioned in the image of the past, so that the cities could glow again just as they did in his wonderful book. 

In the growing light he could see the puffs of dust raised by an army, still in the distance but coming ever closer. His heart leapt – that must be Balliwick returning, and he was sure that it would be with good news. Von Eisen wrapped his cloak around him and sat watching as the approaching army expanded from a distant cloud into a well-disciplined phalanx of horsemen. The hope in his heart grew with every galloping hoof beat, as he waited patiently to embrace his destiny.

 

***

Boo landed on the cobbles and sniffed the air. She could sense that her quarry had been nearby and then had moved on, but the scent seemed to be getting stronger – it might be best now to stay still and wait. Her brief reverie was interrupted, however, by Hardacre, who appeared quite suddenly next to her. He moved immediately, intending to scoop her up and run on into the darkness of a doorway.

They had landed in the middle of a courtyard just next to the main gate of the city. With teleporting there was always a brief period of uncertainty in the mind of an observer. Hardacre had learned to use this momentary confusion to avoid being detected – the key thing was to hit the ground running. So, the Boo-scooping, the jinking run and the slide into the dark doorway would have been  perfect if he had not had a princess attached to his arm, and one who had no idea what she was doing. Hardacre took a few steps forward and stumbled; the illusion was broken and a group of guards saw him immediately. They were clearly confused by this sudden vision, but they began to move uncertainly towards the intruders. Hardacre knew that he had no magical energy left and that it would be impossible for all three of them to escape by running. It looked like their capture was inevitable.

There was a very loud grinding sound just behind the guards. Half of them turned round to see the main gate opening, but the others continued to watch Hardacre and Lily very carefully.  All Hardacre could do was wait and hold the wriggling Boo. He wondered why she was so excited. Lily was hidden behind him, shivering but making no sound.

A handful of knights marched through the door and then Balliwick sauntered in behind them, smiling broadly. There was a beat while he registered that something strange was going on and then he looked up past the guards and into the open courtyard. He saw the intruders and he hesitated for no more than a second. During that time Hardacre realised, with a deadly sickening feeling, why Boo was wriggling so much. Now he knew who Boo had been tracking. Death was very close.

‘You?’ shouted Kratos. He swung round, splayed his fingers and stretched his arm out towards Hardacre.

‘Brydia, brydia, brydia’ he screamed. A gout of fire rushed out of his hand and flew across the space between him and his enemy. The guards standing in the way were burnt instantly to toppling embers.

‘Duck!’ shouted Hardacre, without any hope at all, and he and Lily threw themselves onto the floor. At that moment Boo wriggled free and jumped, quite deliberately, into the full force of the torrent of flame. She was briefly haloed with an intense orange light, but she did not catch fire. Instead, she buzzed so loudly that those around her put their hands to their ears. Then the magical blaze poured entirely into her and was extinguished. Her wings grew to fill almost the whole courtyard, she gave a small, but clearly audible belch, and then she was gone. She was finally full and now she could go home.

Hardacre didn’t wait to see exactly what had happened to his pet. Everything in front of him was now burning and the one man left standing appeared to be Kratos, awash with flame but unconcerned. His only hope was to run on through the fire and smoke to somewhere safe. He dragged Lily up and they ran into a passageway that led away from the main gate. They could smell the wooden parts of the fortifications burning but they forced themselves on through the choking smoke.

‘Who was that?’ asked Lily, her voice high and weak

‘Kratos’ whispered Hardacre, ‘an old enemy and a terrifying one’

‘What do we do now?’ she sobbed

‘Find somewhere to hide’

They stopped in their tracks; in front of them was a dead end, just the white walls of buildings on three sides. Hardacre scanned around but could see no way out except to turn back. They could see no-one following, but they could hear voices just beyond the billowing cloud of smoke that they had just passed through.

‘I’ll have to go back’ said Hardacre, grimly, ‘you stay here – I’m sure that they won’t harm you as long as you make it clear who you are’

Lily looked up at Hardacre. Her eyes were streaked with tears but her head was quite clear.

‘Use the bag!’ said Lily,

‘What?’ responded Hardacre, confused and bewildered.

 ‘The bag’ she said, ‘it worked for Erik and me!’

‘But that might be dangerous…’

Lily allowed herself a small laugh, despite the howling fear sounding in her ears.

Hardacre hesitated no further. He scanned the alley for a suitable place and then pulled the bag off his back. He moved rapidly to wedge it under an old barrel that was propped up against the wall. It was now invisible to anyone who didn’t shift the barrel.

‘You first’ whispered Hardacre, as he mouthed the opening trigger words. The bag opened and Lily climbed inside. Hardacre looked around to check that no-one had seen Lily enter and then he wriggled in himself. As soon as he had gone inside he muttered the closing words and the bag closed up. All light was immediately snuffed out. 

Hardacre fell to the floor, utterly exhausted. That had been very close. He looked up into the blackness, trying to guess where Lily was.

‘Princess Lily of Amansk’ he said, sternly, ‘you have a lot of explaining to do’ but in the darkness he was smiling. He had never felt so relieved. 

Chapter sixty-eight

Fanemouth

 

Celia awoke with a weight on her chest. She was so used to this that she paid it very little attention. Boo’s buzz soothed her and she began to doze. Then something occurred to her.

‘Boo!’ she exclaimed and sat bolt upright, ‘what on earth are you doing here?’

Boo was mildly discomforted by Celia’s sudden movement, but she soon found another place to lie, across her mistress’s legs. Celia tickled her under her chin and briefly considered going back to sleep. It was so lovely to see her little friend again, but this meant that something must have happened to Hardacre.

Where she was, a thousand miles north of Monurbis, it was much darker and much colder. The fire that had burned in the grate in her pub bedroom was long since dead. She felt disoriented in this strange room on the edge of the western world; she could hear the cry of the seagulls over the dark, temporarily invisible, sea.

There was no room to chalk a pentangle on the floor of the guest room, but she knew that she needed to contact the twins, and so she would have to find somewhere to do it. She wrapped herself in a heavy blanket, picked up a stick of chalk from her dresser, and checked that Boo was asleep. Then she hurried downstairs as quietly as she could.

 

She whispered ‘ddistaw’ as she crept down the stairs, enveloping herself in a sphere of silence that trailed along with her. She knew that this would only work while she didn’t have to communicate, but yet that was the whole point of what she was doing – she needed to talk to headquarters. Her main concern was not to wake up Tom.

She made for the snug – the little room behind the main bar where locals sat in comfort and put the world to rights. She knew that if she pushed the chairs back in that space then there would be just enough room to cast the spell.  She hurried past the large bay window in the main bar, where a fire still glowed in the hearth. She was completely silent, but not transparent. This meant that the shadow that she cast, even in in the red half-light, was enough to wake up the burly man sitting at the table. He came to with a start, and shouted out, but the words died on his lips; he was inside the sphere and so could make no noise at all. 

There was a brief period of chaos during which the two people tried unsuccessfully to communicate by sound and gesture, neither of which were possible in the soundless near-darkness. They clattered around mutely until Tom found a match and struck it on the table, held it up to illuminate Celia’s face. He scowled at her. Celia sighed and clicked once with the fingers of her left and twice with the fingers of her right hand. The last click dispelled the silence.

‘What are you doing?’ hissed Tom, ‘creeping around my property with some weird enchantment on yourself’

‘Trying not to wake you’ said Celia, exasperated, ‘why are you down here, anyway?’

‘I couldn’t sleep…’ he started to say but then did a double take, ‘it’s my bloody pub! I’ll do as I please… and you’re a guest, remember?’

Celia looked sheepish and realised that she’d have to come clean. Poor Tom, she thought, for him the price of love would be to get sucked into things he couldn’t either understand or hope to control.  

‘I’m really sorry’ she said, ‘I have to make contact some friends and I need to cast a spell to do it’

‘So – you’re a witch, too, are you?’

Celia breathed in deeply. She’d have to rely on her instinct here and it was telling her it was time to come clean.

‘Yes, we’re both witches and we are both members of a special council of witches called the Hybitor’

Celia was pleased to see that this name didn’t seem to ring any bells with him. At that moment the match went out. He struck another one and used it to light a large candle in the middle of the table. Their two faces were illuminated as if they were talking in a cave.

‘Isn’t a council of witches called something else…?’ he said; his face creasing and his lips thinning.

‘A coven, yes’ she said, firmly, ‘but that’s just another name for the council – an old name but one that I actually rather like, despite its connotations.’

‘So Katy is a member of a coven, is she?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid that tends to be likely to be true when you’re a witch…’

‘I suppose so’ he said, sullenly

‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re worrying about. You know Katy – do you imagine that anything that she is involved with could be mean or evil?’

‘How am I meant to know’ he snorted, ‘I knew nothing about any of this until a few days ago’

Celia frowned – she could see how dreadful this all was for Tom. This was what it was like when you loved someone, she guessed: ghosts might keep appearing in every nook and cranny. It might get unbearable if you looked for them too closely. And that was just one of the awful burdens of love; she shuddered to think what else might be involved.

‘Miss Franklyn…?’ said Tom.

‘Sorry’ she said, shaking herself out of her reverie, ‘this must be a very difficult thing to find out so suddenly…’

Tom just grunted.

‘But Katy is still the same person that she was before, you know…’

There was a pause while Celia waited for Tom to respond. He was in no hurry. The morning light began to fill the room. It began to look and less like a cave and more and more like an ordinary room.  Celia suddenly felt thirsty, but she guessed that was inevitable consequence of sitting in a room full of beer smells.  Was it too earlier to have a beer in a pub?

‘What is it that you lot do?’ asked Tom

This wasn’t a question that Celia had had to answer very often. She smiled and gave it a shot.

‘We help fight evil magic – there are many forces within Eth and the wider world who would like to disrupt our ordinary lives…’

‘Who are these forces?’

‘In Eth it is mostly rebel witches, allied with Rhylic extremists, but there are other groups working with them’

‘Westerners?’ asked Tom, sceptically, ‘aren’t all witches westerners?’

‘Is Katy Rhylic?’ said Celia, grinning, ‘am I?’

Tom shook his head. Celia thought he looked exhausted.  

‘Have you been up all night worrying about Katy?’ she asked gently

‘Sometimes it’s hard to sleep’ murmured Tom

‘Yes, I know’ she said, although she nearly always slept like a log, particularly when Boo was with her.

‘It’s nearly breakfast time’ he said, ‘would you like anything?’

Celia was now hungry and thirsty, but she also still needed to contact the twins. Along with that she felt that she had a duty to do more to put Tom’s mind at rest.

‘We’re just a group of colleagues who try to help the High Lord with things that he would find hard to deal with using his normal resources. We usually fare well enough’

‘So, you work for the government?’

‘Well, most of the time, yes, because their interests and ours largely go together…’

‘It sounds dangerous to me’

‘Well, it’s a bit dangerous’ admitted Celia, ‘but quite exciting, too…’

Tom looked unconvinced.

‘The thing is’ said Celia, proceeding with care, ‘Katy is a brilliant witch – but you’ve seen what she’s like’

Tom smiled, despite his general mood – they both remembered the state of her cottage.

‘So… if someone really cared about her… then… he could look after her, and she wouldn’t get herself into this mess as often…and… everyone would benefit’

Except possibly you, Tom thought Celia, you might well end up with a whole warehouse packed full of pain and worry

‘Possibly...’ said Tom, ‘...but she keeps turning me down, anyway’

Celia began to feel the pressure of time – anything could have happened to Laurence and here they were talking about love. Still, Katy really did need looking after, and who else was offering?

‘Keep trying’ suggested Celia, smiling supportively at him, ‘you will wear her down, eventually… I can tell’  

‘Maybe…’ he said, unconvinced, getting up from the table, ‘…anyway, breakfast…’

‘That would be lovely…’ said Celia, ‘and… Tom’

Tom, who had been escaping as rapidly as possible to the kitchen, turned reluctantly to listen.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m thinking that it would be best not to mention this conversation to Katy. She’ll tell you in her own time, I’m sure, but she might not appreciate having us talking about it while she’s asleep…’

‘Umm’ muttered Tom, ‘I’ll think about that’

Tom turned back again, seeking the sanctuary of the kitchen.

‘And… just one other thing’ said Celia

Tom didn’t turn and didn’t attempt to suppress the irritation in his voice.

‘What?’

‘Can I cast that communication spell here? I really need to do it soon…’

‘Just don’t make a mess’ grunted Tom, ‘and tell me when it’s safe to come back into my own bar…’

Celia roiled her eyes. She really wasn’t sure that she’d handled this at all well. She wished that Owen had been here to talk to Tom, man to man. She was sure that he would have done a better job.

She raised her chalk and began to mark out the pentangle. She just hoped that one of the twins was awake and that if one of them had to be woken up, it wouldn’t be Gwyneth.