The Pyramids of London

TWENTY-SIX

“Should I bleat?” Rian asked. “Do you expect tigers? Or sphinxes?”

“Albans.”

Makepeace managed to shift himself to a more upright position as he turned toward Princess Aerinndís and Princess Leodhild.

“I put both these Blairs under Command last night—it seemed worth the risk that they can resist me, given the apparent awareness of the Council’s involvement. And two more tiresome examples of blameless lives lived well I have rarely had the misfortune to examine. They’ve an unfeigned devotion toward Alba, have no acquaintances called Dane, and are particularly pleased to have stumbled across Wednesday here. They’ve both been instructed to get closer to her.”

“Who is instructing Lynsey?” Rian asked, surprised.

“Fennington. That, at least, was worth the time spent. Fennington’s a closet Unionist—considerable donations. Seems to be for the sake of business—he’s been trying to acquire Alban mining interests, and a united Albion would make that infinitely easier. The brother’s technically doing Gustav’s bidding, because there is no force in this world that will keep that Swede from poking his nose into things that have nothing to do with him, let alone something that he does have a real stake in. At any rate, I could find no air of guilt about the Blairs, which brings us back to Wednesday.”

“They successfully lied to you, Comfrey? Overcame the Command?”

“I don’t know, Hildy. If it’s a resistance born of allegiance, it’s not of a type I’ve encountered before. All their reactions read to me as genuine, so I want to manufacture a response in semi-controlled circumstances. Given the mounting number of parties involved, and stories already running about entire crates of fulgite, we have little time before this mess spins entirely out of hand.”

“You want to bring out Mon- use the converted mannequin?” Rian asked.

“And play pat-a-cake with two sphinxes? No, rumour should be enough. You originally showed no sign of knowing anything about fulgite, but they’ve had their suspicions, they’ve searched what they could get to. Easy enough to stage a conversation so they’ll believe you’re personally carrying about a large, round piece of fulgite. Then see what they do to take it off you.”

Rian considered this. “Shall I send the children away?”

Princess Leodhild shook her head. “If I was chasing something small and precious, I would most certainly check to see whether you’d sent it with them. And there are few places safer than Forest House. Most likely you will be lured from the house—by the Blairs or by someone who has been using them as a source of information.”

Princess Aerinndís’ husky voice forestalled Rian’s response.

“This presumes that there is some fundamental need to gain one particular piece of stolen fulgite. Given the sums already exchanged, is this piece worth such risk?”

“Maybe not. In which case we will have wasted vital time following Wednesday about. But it is a particularly large crystal, and the pair given to the Tennings are the only round pieces that have come to light.” Makepeace shrugged. “We could focus on the Romans instead, or try to convince Egypt to talk, but…yes, I think a little bleating will bring the best result.”

“You suspected this Wrack had a truth-telling ability. Won’t it be obvious to them that I’m trying to lure them into a trap?”

“You’ve gained allegiance since then—there’s not many that could truth-tell me.” His mouth flattened, perhaps reminded of what the change in Rian represented, but he turned the shift to provocative disdain: “Tiger got your stomach, Wednesday?”

“There is inevitably some risk to you,” Princess Leodhild added. “Even with all the protections we can muster, we’ve already been furnished with a demonstration of how quickly they can strike.”

“They apparently want to rob me, not kill me,” Rian pointed out. “Besides, resolving this before the children can think of something else to investigate seems the wisest course.”

“Then I’ll set it in motion after seeing to this Roman driver. After that I’ll be at Forest House, though you won’t see me. Try not to be lured out during daylight.”

“We’re heading north to bring Tanwen up to date,” Princess Leodhild said. “Do you want Dama Seaforth further tonight?”

Makepeace shook his head, then levered himself to his feet and left by the inner door, while the two Gwyn Lynns gestured Rian toward the shelf-concealed entrance. Princess Leodhild, not able to see in the dark, was assisted by her niece through the unlit museum, and let out her breath explosively as they reached the small garden

“I swear, one day I’m going to kick over some priceless artefact from Prytennia’s past and then Bermie will have some fast talking to do.” She smiled at Rian. “I’m not technically part of the Night Council, merely dragged in because of all that’s going on at the moment. Have your three younglings recovered from their adventures?”

Before Rian could answer they were whisked effortlessly into the air: again the stag for Rian, but two transparent horses for the princesses. Only Aerinndís‘ had three tails, an observation that made Rian wonder whether the Night Breezes had any continuity of existence, whether particular hares and mice remembered whisking burning papers out of a fire, or fetching water. Did they simply cease to exist during the day, or go to Sulis’ realm like the triskelion? Her stag certainly seemed to look about himself as if fully aware, and the lone hound in escort frisked with delight around the three larger winds.

They were travelling slowly, low enough above the old Roman walls of central London that people promenading along the city’s most famous walk turned and exclaimed or bowed.

Princess Leodhild, entirely used to sudden transports, was smiling encouragingly as she waited for Rian’s response, so Rian pulled together her poise and tried to pretend they were all three out for a ride. She should be able to stop herself from being distracted by the sweeping view. Or Princess Aerinndís, stern and glorious to her left.

“They’re well enough, though I think there’ll be a few nightmares tonight. The idea of being dragged underground isn’t one any of them is liable to shrug off. Griff’s my main worry, since his constitution isn’t robust, and keeping him in bed requires a certain persistence.”

“Getting one of mine out of bed is my challenge!” Princess Leodhild said, chuckling. “This must all be rather new to you, Dama Seaforth.”

She meant children, not a slow gallop a foot above the Tamesas, or being catapulted into the inner circle of Prytennia’s elite and very royal defences.

“Being a distant aunt was a great deal easier,” Rian said, controlling a wry note. “Though I find I regret not knowing them better when I didn’t need to try to function as a replacement parent.”

“In your view, Dama Seaforth,” Princess Aerinndís said, “would Gaius Silvanus Tarinus have intervened on behalf of three children who were not in your care?”

Rian didn’t answer immediately, turning to look into the Crown Princess’ face. Serious, unsmiling.

“I don’t know,” Rian said, frowning. “Felix was raised in an atmosphere of enormous expectation, and was forever being shuttled about doing things that must have been tremendously dull for a boy, all in preparation for a stellar future. By the time I knew him he’d become a very indirect person, and rarely shared his thoughts. But still, while I don’t think he would go against Rome’s interests lightly, killing three children—any three children—wouldn’t have been a small thing for the boy I knew.”

She paused as they whisked under Three Wings Bridge, for she could not help staring up at it. Could the Crown Princess be deliberately trying to make her gape? She had to know the effect she had on people, even without the Night Breezes.

“He must have been ordered to pretend to have gone back to Rome,” she said, struggling to focus. “No wonder, with the papers full of that foreseeing. Ficus Lapis probably started to make arrangements to withdraw as soon as they read about it.”

“The Unfinished Ones.”

“Yes.” Rian stole another glance, and was treated to the clean line of Aerinndís Gwyn Lynn’s profile. “If they’re important somehow to locating or producing fulgite, then Rome would want to get them to safety as soon as possible. And yet, unless Eluned surviving the attempt on her life counts as passing one of these challenges, they must still be in play, a present danger. Even if there is some vein of fulgite under London that’s yet to be exhausted, why would they risk staying?”

Neither princess had an answer. Nor did Princess Leodhild make any attempt to dismiss or downplay what the foreseeing suggested. They returned Rian quietly to the attic at Forest House—not whisking her north to meet the Queen as she’d almost expected—and left her to contemplate being lured from safety by people she’d started to consider friends.