Chapter forty-one

Visnea

 

There was no time even to exchange shocked glances about Marthian’s replacement, it was clear that the Emperor wanted them to move on to their own stories. Throughout the whole time that they were recounting their adventures, however, they all thought of the proconsul, back in Ortia, and how unfair this was to her. From that point on all three of the friends made a silent compact to only say good things about their young leader.

Talking slowly and clearly, Kath told the Emperor her story. She chronicled the progress of the party to the wall, the loss of Lucius, and her unfortunate scramble through to the other side.  Then she recalled her meeting with her plains-dweller guide, Rem, and how he had guided her past Portalis until they had been captured by the Ortians. After that she described the trial and their subsequent escape to Melloreis with Viola and Hardacre, where their explorations had inadvertently triggered an alarm cloud that had summoned Whitecloak and his armies from the Far East.  In all of this description Kath had often remained vague about exactly who had done what – they had agreed long before that they would leave no-one vulnerable to a charge of incompetence or negligence.

Pallatian interrupted only occasionally, usually to discuss political points or to ascertain the exact conditions in Ortia. He had allowed Kath to give a very detailed account of her actions, and seemed unperturbed by the times when the party’s behaviour had been rash, ill considered, or downright dangerous. It was, Kath thought, as if he were listening to a story of things that had occurred a very long time ago and so were past judgement.  

Viola was asked to continue the narrative once the alarm cloud had been triggered. She described the opening of Quiena’s Vault and the mechanical elephant that was in it. At the first direct mention of Quiena the Emperor stopped her to ask some questions.

‘Major’ he said, ‘are you sure that the structures were built under Quiena’s direction?’

‘Yes, my Lord’ Viola said, ‘Dr Fielding ascertained that very early on, and we experienced her magical effects throughout our time in Melloreis, and, of course, at the Wall’

Kath nodded her emphatic agreement.

‘And these magical effects were of a kind that Dr Fielding would define as “Dwarven Magic”, were they?’

‘Yes, my lord – the dead dwarves that we found were clearly carrying Dwarven Magic documents. We think that they were trying to fix, or start, the Autelephas’

Pallatian asked no more questions and the storytelling seemed to have stopped for the time being.  During the pause, the Emperor spent a long while studying Viola’s face and she wondered what he was looking for. Finally he spoke again, clearly choosing his words  carefully.

 ‘Are you a worshipper of Quiena, Viola?’ he asked

Viola was taken aback. She’d never felt herself to be religious in any way, but she was well aware how things would look to outside observers. She had had that strange dream in the vault at Melloreis, where Ophia had given her the passwords for the Bell Tower, and then she had just known, somehow, how to command the sphere in the Wall. It seemed like the goddess was communicating with her, and she did not object to that at all, there was never any compulsion. However, she had no idea what any of it meant.

‘No, I’m not a worshipper, my Lord’ she said flatly but with complete honesty. Pallatian seemed quite happy with the answer and he indicated that Viola should continue her story.

Viola began to realise how much harder it was going to be to tell the story from this point on. Should she mention Flavia’s death, and all the details of Perclivius’s revolt? They had said that they would tell the Emperor everything, but now she was faced with telling him about a killing, which might be interpreted by a hostile observer as a murder. She felt suddenly and unreasonably irritated with Kath – all she had to tell was the wonderful story of Rem and her final defeat of Whitecloak. Viola’s story seemed much muddier and much less honourable. 

All this meant that Viola stumbled somewhat through her account of Flavia’s death, the meeting with Fred and Potentilla, the invasion of the Tlaxacans, and the entrance into the Bell Tower. She scarcely mentioned the dream, which had been the key to getting into the Tower, and put down her ability to open the door into the Tower to a lucky guess. She was fairly sure that the Emperor would be well aware that her story was not the entire, unalloyed, truth.   

Whatever Pallatian was thinking, however, he didn’t interrupt again until Viola described the appearance among them of John Ismay. His ears seemed to prick up when he heard the name. This may or may not have been the first time he had realised that the leader of the Hybitor had been involved in the resistance to Whitecloak.

‘So, what was Mr Ismay like?’ asked the Emperor, ‘I have only met him twice, and only in passing.  And to be honest with you, I did not really know what to make of him – he seemed surprisingly frivolous for a global leader.’

Viola hesitated, seeing a trap ahead. What did Pallatian want her to say?

‘He was resourceful and brave’ she replied, quietly, ‘as was Mr Hardacre – they were a formidable team’

Viola began to feel very uncomfortable. She was recounting her story to the highest authority in the land, and she should have been able to pour everything out in an unrestrained stream of truth. But now she was talking about the leader of a rival, even if allied, organisation of barbarians, and thinking of how essential he had been to their cause. And these implied criticisms of her human friends stung her surprisingly deeply. All she wanted to do now was to present John in the best light – it seemed only fair – but it also seemed plainly treacherous. She felt like saying ‘you weren’t there, you don’t know how perilously close it all was, it’s no wonder that we want to stick together; it’s no wonder that we want to paint things in the best possible light.’ but she found herself unable to say anything at all for a moment.

Pallatian smiled, clearly sensing Viola’s discomfort even if he didn’t understand it.

‘I’m sure that they were formidable – I have heard that they have considerable talents’

Viola felt a spark of irritation again – this seemed like damning with faint praise when this man, and perhaps even more, his valet, had saved the Emperor’s eastern provinces from destruction.  Viola felt her throat go dry and raw; she really wished that she could stop talking now.  Then Pallatian asked her the worst question of all.     

‘So, does Ortia have any contacts with the Hybitor, now?’

Viola thought immediately of the constant flow of mail papers between Ortia and Kinspit. Should she tell the Emperor about them?  There was no doubt and no hesitation – she had no intention of telling him. It was then that Viola realised where her loyalties lay: she would always be happy to lie to protect her mistress. 

 ‘Contact with the Hybitor?’ she said, confidently, ‘no, I’m sure she hasn’t. Anyway, why would the Hybitor be interested in Ortia?’

Kath caught Viola’s eye for a second and they knew that they had suddenly become part of a conspiracy, perhaps even, in a small way, a rebellion.   

The Emperor turned to talk briefly to General Titanius and then gestured to Kath. She blushed slightly, but Pallatian seemed to have either not noticed or he didn’t care. He asked her to continue the story.

The rest was easy. She recounted the massive struggle against Whitecloak, each one of their roles, the death of Fred and Whitecloak’s final defeat by the Autelephas. After she had finished the three Imperial dignitaries showered them with praise and many questions concerning the exact nature of Whitecloak’s being and his demise. The enormity of the achievement and the completeness of the eventual victory seemed to overwhelm them.

After that most of the questions were about the fate of Ortia, and this was easier, as none of the travellers had been there during the siege. They also took the opportunity to praise Marthian’s role very highly, but the Emperor seemed rather uninterested in this. They wondered if he’d rather not hear about the efficiency of the sitting proconsul when he had a replacement all ready and waiting in the wings.

Finally, three hours after they had started, Viola was able to finish the story with their trip back through the Wall to the capital. Pallatian seized on this eagerly again.

‘So, Major’ he said, ‘you know how to control the Wall?’

Viola looked blank: what did he mean?

‘I’m sorry my Lord?’ she asked, hesitantly

The Emperor looked tired. He came straight to the point.

‘You were able to get through the wall, using some link you have with Quiena – is that correct?’

Viola shuffled in her chair. How was she meant to answer that?

‘I seem to know how to control the spheres inside the Quienimon Gate, yes’ she said, picking each word with great care.

‘How do you know?’ asked Titanius, ‘that’s quite a skill’

Viola sighed.

‘I really don’t know how I know – I just know’

Pallatian stared at her for several seconds and for perhaps for one tenth of one of those seconds there was a strange look that she couldn’t identify. In any one else it might plausibly have been interpreted as fear. Viola was utterly dumbfounded but she tried as hard as she could not to react in any way.

‘And Dr Fielding used her knowledge of Dwarven Magic to open the doors, yes?’ asked Pallatian

Kath nodded, not liking the way this was going at all. She was certain that she was about to be sucked into something unpleasant again.
Pallatian and Titanius had another, longer, whispered conversation. It seemed that they agreed on something.

‘Well, we are grateful that you do know,’ said Pallatian, ‘and we would like you to put your knowledge to even better use than you have already’.

Viola tensed – she wondered what was coming next.

‘Yes, my Lord’ she said, ‘what do you wish me to do’

‘I want you and Dr Fielding to open the main gates so that I can send an army to relieve Ortia. I have been hearing very disturbing reports of a barbarian invasion from the north’

Viola’s group looked over at each other in shock.

‘What invasion?’ she asked, her voice wavering.

‘It is an invasion of a renegade martial order known as the Knights of the Crimson Flame. They claim to be devoted to reconquering East Visneoria in my name, but in reality they are simply greedy barbarians, just like all the others that have claimed to supprt us over the years’

‘How do you know this?’ asked Viola, her heart sinking.

‘We have our own knightly order, a group who are genuinely dedicated to the wellbeing of the Empire – the Knights of the Pale Flame. Their leader, Prince Otto Kantor, sends me detailed reports. Sadly his army is small, but he does what he can to deflect the crimson hordes’

There was silence as the travellers imagined the city under siege yet again. Viola thought of Marthian and Aurelian: she hoped that they were safe.  

‘How soon can we set off?’ asked Potentilla, getting up from her chair.

The three wise elves on the dais laughed kindly.

‘With the greatest respect’ said Titanius, in a surprisingly gentle voice, ‘I think it’s time for you to go for some officer retraining, Lieutenant. You have done excellent work, but you really are not needed anymore.’ 

Viola stood up – she’d really had enough. She was hungry, tired and exceptionally irked.  She saluted the Emperor as formally as she could manage.

‘I can’t countenance any change in my team at this stage, my Lord’ she said stiffly, ‘so, with your permission, I and my two companions will go and get ready’

Chapter forty-two

The Exotic Stack Room, Kinspit University

 

‘May I come in then, Snake Guardian?’ asked Kathleen, still hesitating at the threshold of the room.

The Naga swayed backwards and forwards, her massive pointed face impassive.

 ‘Of course’ she said, ‘be my guest…’

Kathleen walked straight into the room as confidently as she could manage given the circumstances. She appeared to be unharmed, but she felt a slight vibration and momentarily light headed as she passed through the dimensional gate.

‘Very smooth’ she said, admiringly.

The Naga lowered her head a little and stopped swaying.

‘Don’t praise me, Dr Mannings’ she said, ‘I had nothing to do with the engineering’

‘Nonetheless…’ said Kathleen, ‘...it’s impressive’

She was even more impressed by the paraphernalia that had been amassed in the room. There were piles of booklets, leaflets, text books and almanacs; encyclopaedias, thesauruses, atlases and gazetteers. She guessed that a week spent in here would tell you everything you might want to know about the Twin Worlds and then a whole lot more. The chances, however, of being able to do any of that under the eyes of this guardian snake seemed rather low.  She didn’t rate her chances of even getting the instruction manual all that highly.

The Naga hissed slightly – it may have been impatience, it may have been a threat; it was hard to tell.

‘How can I assist you, witch woman?’ she asked. Kathleen had a vivid image of the long green snake wrapping slowly around her and squeezing.

‘I am looking for the instruction manual for a reality still’ Kathleen replied, forcing herself to focus, ‘I have one but I don’t have the full details of how they work’

The Naga’s tongue flickered in and out of her mouth. Kathleen had no way of interpreting what that meant – the snake’s face was incapable of expressing emotions clearly.

‘They work?’ she enquired, ‘you mean how it works don’t you?’

‘I’ve always assumed that there was more than one…’ 

‘No – only one’ said the Naga, hissing again.

 She slithered down an aisle and found a series of shelves with very old manuscripts on them. From that point she shifted around the stack and then, without warning, and in an instant, she transformed into a thin, tall, willowy female elf with white hair. Kathleen tried not to be too taken aback.

‘You’re a shape shifter’ she commented, in a matter-of-fact voice. She was determined not to be shocked into surprise or, indeed, surprised into shock.

The Naga shook her newly humanoid head and smiled weakly. She seemed so much more fragile as an elf than a python.  

‘Only two shapes: one to guard and one to help’

Kathleen thought that this sounded encouraging. She much preferred to deal with an elf than a very large snake, for very ancient, visceral, and very human, reasons.

‘That’s good’ she said

‘It’s hard to be a librarian without any hands’ pointed out the Naga.

She began to search very carefully through a pile of booklets, all dog eared and foxed. Kathleen watched her for a while, in fascination.

‘What sort of creature are you?’ she couldn’t help asking.

‘The same sort as you’ replied the Naga as she flicked through the pile.

‘What do you mean?’

‘A made creature – an invented thing’

‘I’m not made’ said Kathleen, suspiciously.

‘Well, you’re not, maybe, you’re bred, but your progenitors were…’

The Naga abandoned the first pile and moved on to a second.

‘Again, I have to ask – what do you mean?’

‘You were made by the Uchbenoi, with a bit of help and guidance from the elves’ said the Naga, apparently only half-engaged in the conversation.

‘Really?’ asked Kathleen, thinking, perhaps, that this was some sort of a joke.

 The Naga turned to look at her and grinned. She had a very narrow face, and slightly greenish skin; there was no mistaking her for an ordinary elf, but her expressions were all now very clear.

‘Yes, really – they were experimenting with time and mortality. A foolish thing to start doing, if you ask me, but, then, nobody did…’

Kathleen still wondered if the creature were speaking metaphorically or literally. She decided that it might be best not to pursue this line of questioning for the time being. She still really needed to find the manual.  

‘So, who made you?’ she asked

The Naga turned back to the stack of booklets. She didn’t seem to mind this direct question.

‘The mage-smiths of Basileus Agathos made me to my mistress’s design, thirty nine thousand and three hundred years ago. As you can see, they did a splendid job’

Kathleen was astounded – this was a very old creature indeed. She wondered how long she had been down here doing this strange job. Even more immediately importantly, she wondered how long it would take her to find the manual.

‘You mentioned your mistress…’ said Kathleen, ‘who is that?’

‘Who do you think?’ said the Naga, ‘only one had such powers and such vision. Only one has had such things wrought in both worlds’

Kathleen had already guessed this. The naga was the work of Quiena, rendering in magic and flesh what she would later augment with copper and steel.

‘Is there only one of you?’ she asked.

‘No – I am number seven of nine. Five of us still survive, the others have been destroyed’

‘Destroyed? How?’

The Naga turned to look at her again. Only now could Kathleen see the snake-elf’s eyes. They were deep, green and slitted; clever and dangerous. But they were also ancient and somehow sad. Kathleen now saw that this creature was something more than a magical fabrication; this was a dying ember of an ancient, forever scarce, race, now facing final extinction.

‘How, you ask?  How were we destroyed?’

Kathleen nodded, wondering if she really wanted to know.      

‘By those who came to steal the things we guard, of course’

‘What things?’ asked Kathleen. The Naga smiled but pointedly ignored her question. She now had a thickish, poorly bound, booklet in her hands.

‘This is the manual’ she said, ‘now - are your hands clean?’

Kathleen looked down at her fingers. Inevitably, they were covered in dust from the bannisters on the long stairs.

‘Wash them, please’ the Naga commanded, pointing towards a small basin at the end of a stack.

Kathleen hurried over to the deep porcelain basin. There was a big jug of clear water, a small brick of soap and a blue towel. She looked up to see that the Naga was occluded from her view, and, following the instincts of a lifetime, she took a small bottle out of her pocket, popped out the cork very carefully, and filled it full of water from the jug. ‘You never know where this may have come from’ she thought to herself, ‘it’s certainly worth a bit of a look later’.  She re-corked the bottle and slipped it into her cloak. Then she washed her hands very thoroughly.

She returned to the Naga, eagerly, and the librarian finally handed her the instruction manual. She breathed a sigh of relief; at last she had the damn thing in her hands.

‘You have an hour to copy it’ said the Naga, ‘I have another appointment then and I only allow one visitor in here at a time’

Kathleen looked down at the manual and felt her heart beat very fast. The booklet was considerably bulkier than she’d expected: would she be able to get everything down in the time available?

‘And if I haven’t finished by then, can I make another appointment?’ she asked, anxiously.

The Naga frowned and looked sceptical.

‘Possibly – but I strongly recommend that you get it finished now. I have to report on all of my activities at the end of each day. When my masters find out you’ve been down here, there may be unfortunate consequences’

‘What sort of consequences?’ asked Kathleen, her brow furrowing.

‘Who can tell…’ the Naga whispered.

The snake-elf smiled lazily. She began to resume her snake form, slowly twisting and turning until her skin turned to scales and her tongue forked in her head. Kathleen sensed that she felt happier like that, while she, the human witch, unfortunately, didn’t feel very happy at all.   

She sat down at the nearest desk, got out her notepad and a very sharp pencil, opened the manual and began to write frantically.

Chapter forty-three

Castle Uberwald

 

Victoria herded them all inside the apartment, hoping that no-one had seen their unexpected guest. She took them into the dining room, the room buried furthest into the middle of their living space.  She placed Lily at the exact opposite end of the room from Hardacre and then stood directly in front of him with her arms folded.

‘If you know my sister so well, Mr Hardacre, tell me something about her’

Hardacre controlled his facial muscles. He had really felt like frowning, but it was vital that he won Victoria over.

‘Her given name is Elizabeth, she lives in Eth City, and she works for the High Lord. She is a special advisor to his court. She looks very like a slightly older version of you, Miss Jenkins and she shares your assertive characteristics…’

 Victoria shook her head and refused to yield.

‘So, you live in Eth City do you? Is that how you know Liz?’

Hardacre allowed himself a very small smile - he couldn’t imagine anyone calling Councillor Jenkins ‘Liz’.

‘No, I do not live in Eth City’ he explained, ‘I live in Kinspit in Southern Paror’

Victoria narrowed her eyes and frowned. She looked around at Lily as if expecting that Hardacre might have cast a spell on her. Satisfied that she had not been transformed into any kind of amphibian, she turned back to Hardacre.

‘Kinspit? That’s on the other side of the world’ she spluttered, ‘how can you have ever met her?’

‘She is a member of a special committee that I serve as part of my duties’

‘Duties?’ asked Victoria, aware that she risked getting distracted, ‘what duties are they?’

‘I am a gentleman’s servant, a valet’

Victoria laughed, snorting as she did so. She looked quizzically at the small ball of fur that was now asleep in Lily’s arms.

‘I really don’t think that you are, Mr Hardacre’ she said, ‘valets rarely carry teleporting magical mammals…’

Hardacre nodded his agreement of the strangeness of what was happening.

‘I am also a reluctant diplomat and general factotum. I help out where I can’

Victoria was determined to refocus the conversation.

‘What committee?’ she asked, ‘what possible committee could you and my sister have ever met on. It seems inconceivable…’ 

Then the truth began to dawn. There was one shadowy committee that they could have met on, one that she knew about from her days working for the government, but that she knew very little about otherwise. It was also one that Elizabeth would kill, possibly literally, to be sit on.

‘Is this committee thirteen strong, by any chance, Mr Hardacre?’

A ripple of disquiet slowly made its way across Hardacre’s face. It soon disappeared. He surrendered to circumstance.

‘Yes, Miss Jenkins, it is’

Victoria was about to blurt out everything that she knew about the Hybitor, express her astonishment at her sister’s elevation to the council, and generally spew out an extraordinariness of information. But then she caught Hardacre’s eye again – he was giving her that look that she had not seen for decades, the look that said ‘need to know’. Without any warning an ancient, almost forgotten, reflex triggered in her mind. Her mouth shut tight and she knew that this was something that she should keep secret. There was no need for these two young royal people to know about the internal workings of the Ethian state, no reason at all.  Without fully realising it, Victoria had begun to think like a spy again.

 ‘What are you two talking about?’ asked Lily, sounding exasperated.

Victoria walked over to her and gave her a reassuring pat on the arm.

‘My sister and Mr Hardacre are both on the ancient monument committee in Eth. It’s an extraordinary coincidence. ‘

Lily yawned.

‘It sounds fascinating, miss!’ she paused for a second, ‘however… can we escape now?’

 Victoria sank into one of the dining room chairs and nodded for everyone else to do the same. Hardacre sat down looking mildly surprised but not unpleased; Erik fell onto his seat and started drumming his fingers on the table; and Lily collapsed into an arm chair close to where she had been standing.

‘I think it’s time to find out what is going on’ said Victoria, ‘Mr Hardacre, perhaps you’d tell us what you’re doing teleporting around the place with a mutant rodent…’

Hardacre looked over at the tupaia on Lily’s lap, thinking that he would bring her to show the others, but then he thought better of it. She was fast asleep and very comfortable.

‘She’s not a rodent, I’m told’ Hardacre said, ‘she’s a tree shrew of some sort’

Victoria looked at him as if this was a seriously bad example of splitting hairs.

‘More importantly’ he continued, ‘she seems to feed from the energy radiated by users of magic and has an extraordinary ability to track down a really powerful emanation from any distance. We have no idea whether this ability is natural or whether Boo was trained to do it by someone’

‘Boo?’ asked Lily.

Hardacre coughed to cover up this little slip.

‘We call her Boo’

Lily smiled.

‘What a great name! Why do you call her that?’

 ‘Because she’s quite easy to frighten, I think’ said Hardacre, looking uncomfortable, ‘I didn’t name her’

‘And you, Mr Hardacre’ said Victoria sternly, ‘you seem to be very easy to distract…’

 ‘I do apologise’ said Hardacre, ‘to continue – Boo appeared suddenly in the middle of the night to one of my colleagues. She was woken up by the creatures buzzing on her chest; a rather odd way to be interrupted in your sleep, as I am sure you can imagine’

‘Sounds like a nice way to me’ said Lily

‘So, are there others of her kind?’ asked Erik, making a face at Lily, ‘have you examined their internal anatomy?’

‘Erik! Don’t be so vile’ squeaked Lily

‘We have no idea’ replied Hardacre, carefully answering the first part of Erik’s question only, ‘she is the only one of her kind that we have ever found; and I can tell you, we have looked far and wide’

‘Tree shrews are usually found in tropical rain forests’ said Erik, ‘you should look there’

Hardacre nodded.

‘We have, I’m sure’  

‘Who are ‘we’, then?’ asked Lily, a note of suspicion in her voice, ‘the ancient monument people?’  

Hardacre ignored her and tried to plough on with his story.

‘We now use Boo as a tracking creature’ he explained, ‘if you hold her next to a device or object that has been recently enchanted by someone of high magical ability then she will pick up the magical ‘scent’ and pursue them vigorously; in fact, through large volumes of space, however distant. She may be able to go straight to a magical signal if it’s strong enough...’

Victoria looked intensely sceptical.

‘How is that possible?’ she asked

Hardacre decided that this wasn’t really the time to start explaining about thaumic traces, so a little grey lie seemed most prudent.

‘We don’t yet know yet, but we’re working on it. But that fact that I’m here provides some good empirical evidence of what she can do, I would say’

Victoria frowned.

‘You might have come from two villages away….’

 Hardacre smiled politely.

‘I came from Paror’ he explained

Victoria’s face was a mask of doubt, but she kept quiet and let him continue.

‘So, that’s why I’m here. I am on the trail of an evil witch or mage of considerable power, whose experiments are causing a lot of trouble; and, he or she was clearly here fairly recently and may have been staying in the apartment that Boo blinked into’

Everyone looked towards Erik. He sat upright in his chair looking very confused.

‘Erik’ said Victoria very carefully, ‘do you know who was in that apartment recently?’

Erik looked even more bemused; it was as if he was trying to remember a very difficult memory puzzle.

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Erik, ‘I don’t really notice that sort of thing. My uncle has lots of visitors; any one of them could be a powerful evil witch, I suppose…’

‘Really?’ said Lily, ‘how cool is that!’

Victoria gave her a hard stare. Lily giggled briefly and then shut up.

‘So,’ said Victoria, ‘when the creature teleports, you can follow her?’

‘Using a special… err… trick, yes’ confirmed Hardacre, distressed, as usual, by the need to talk about magic, ‘but it’s a very powerful and exceptionally tiring… trick. I can only…umm… effect it about once a day’    

‘You mean it’s a spell?’ asked Lily, eagerly, ‘is that what you mean?’

Hardacre face was expressionless: if they couldn’t work out what he was talking about then he wasn’t going to give them any more help.

‘I was planning to follow the lead again once I was rested, but that will have to wait until we can get out of this castle’

The others murmured their grateful assent, even Erik. Hardacre looked up at him, puzzled.

‘Prince Erik?’

Erik smiled and nodded.

‘Are you a captive here as well?’

 ‘He’s no captive’ said Victoria, ‘he’s here to woo Lily; and he’s making a complete pig’s ear of it…’

Lily giggled.

‘Miss Jenkins is right; he’s absolutely no use at all’

Erik looked mildly stung, but not fatally wounded.

‘He’s about the most ineligible suitor I have ever met!’ continued Lily, ‘just look at his silly face!’

Erik nodded in complete agreement. He’d obviously given this subject a lot of thought.

‘Well, I like Lily but I wouldn’t want to marry her’ he murmured, ‘I’ve got too many other things to do’.

Lily stood up and glared stony-faced at him. Tears began to form on her cheeks.

‘That’s not what you’re meant to say!’ she sobbed, ‘I’m allowed to tease you, but you are not allowed to say that about me! I’m pretty and I’m a princess! Of course you want to marry me!’

She stood up, handing Boo to Hardacre. Then she stormed off out of the room, throwing looks of implicit command at both Victoria and Erik as she went. Victoria chose to ignore her but Erik was up on his feet immediately.

‘Lily’ he implored, as he ran after her, ‘I don’t understand - you are very pretty. I thought you just said that I was a useless suitor…’

The sounds of their voices faded down the corridor.

 

Victoria and Hardacre sat opposite each other across the dining room table. It was time to come clean.

 ‘So, you work for the Hybitor, Mr Hardacre?’  

‘Yes, I do; and you haven’t always been a governess, have you, Miss Jenkins?’

‘That’s true; I was in the diplomatic corps under High Lord Ecclestone, twenty years ago’

‘So, you were a spy?’

‘Yes, Mr Hardacre, I was a diplomatic spy’

Victoria glanced up at the door to check that neither of the teenagers were on their way back.

‘We represent natural allies, then, Miss Jenkins’

Victoria smiled, she hadn’t had a conversation like this for years and she’d be lying to herself if she pretended that she wasn’t enjoying it.

‘Perhaps we are, but first we have to get out of this castle’

Hardacre considered this.

‘Well, given your background, I wondered if you’d developed any plans yourself?’

Victoria smiled; her eyes were bright.

‘Not really’ she said, ‘I thought I’d wait for you to turn up...’

Hardacre was momentarily confused. ‘But, we’ve never met before...’ he began, but then realised she was joking. Victoria’s smile broadened.

 ‘...and I must say,’ she continued, ‘you’ve really taken your time’