A Little Knowledge (18 page)

“Sort of,” he replied, but said no more.

Petra returned with a cardboard box full of books. “They’re all here. But you must promise to take care of them, and if you don’t need them anymore, please do bring them back.”

“Why? No one else is going to use that library. No point you staying here, like Max said.” She didn’t have anything to say about that so Rupert went over and took hold of the box. She was still holding it after several beats, then sagged once he’d prized it from her grip. “Good. They’re all here. Come on, Max. Weird-ass hybrid Sorcerer-killer to hunt, parasites to police and all that.”

Max went over to Petra as Rupert struggled to open the front door whilst holding the box. “You don’t have to stay here,” he said once Rupert was outside. “This is my mobile number. We have a new Chapter starting up at Cambridge House on Henry Street, top floor. Come and help us. We need people with experience.” He scribbled the number on the notepad next to the telephone that Axon used to use.

She took the piece of paper. “Maybe,” she said. “I just…I don’t feel like I can just abandon everything he made, and…”

Max saw the tears well in her eyes and knew he was the last person who could offer any solace. Even the gargoyle would be better equipped than he. Rupert was calling him. “I have to go.”

Petra closed the door behind him, a loud slam that echoed off the perimeter wall. The fountain at the centre of the drive was dry, and some litter had blown in from the street to gather at the edge of its plinth. He’d never appreciated all the work Axon did until he was gone.

Rupert beeped the car horn and Max made his way over as fast as his leg would allow. Rupert pulled out of the drive the moment Max’s door was shut and sped off down the street. Halfway back, he looked at Max. “She wasn’t always like that, I take it.”

“Petra is one of the most skilled and well-read people I have worked with,” Max said.

“Does she have family to go to?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know anything about her life before working for Mr Ekstrand.”

“Bit weird, him having a woman working so closely with him.”

Max didn’t reply and Rupert didn’t press him. They remained silent all the way back and in the lift up to the office. Kay was spinning in her office chair, knees tucked up under her chin as the gargoyle gave it another flick with a claw to make it spin again.

“Okay, so if you contain Max’s soul, and that’s the seat of emotion, how come the other half of you, the Arbiter bit, still gets up every morning and goes to work? Doesn’t that need some sort of desire or motivation? Are they separate from the soul? And if they’re separate—”

“You weren’t lying about the ten thousand questions,” Rupert said with a grin. “And I can probably answer that better than anyone else here.”

Kay stopped her chair spinning by grabbing the desk, her eyes rolling for a couple of seconds afterwards. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Rupert set the box down on his desk. “Part of the training all Arbiters go through is conditioning—you know, positive and negative reinforcement stuff. Max was conditioned to the point where he needs to investigate anything related to Fae activity when he’s in the field, so he can pursue leads without the need for any messy emotional desire. He has to keep policing, has to prosecute, has to protect the innocents. He physically can’t help himself now.”

Kay’s eyes widened and she exchanged a look with the gargoyle. “You mean…he was…I dunno…programmed?”

Rupert looked up at the ceiling tiles, considering the question. “Yeah, I guess so. Who wants pizza for lunch?”

“Isn’t that unethical?”

“Pizza is never unethical.”

“I mean what was done to Max! Did you do that to the Arbiters who worked for your Chapter in Oxford?”

“Me?” Rupert pointed at his own chest. “No!
I
didn’t. Pepperoni or Meat Feast? Or both?”

“Pepperoni,” Kay replied quietly. “I’ll go and collect. I need a walk.”

• • •

Sam dozed in the back of the limo as it sped towards Bath. He and Cathy had agreed that him walking through a Way between the cities at Bathurst Stables wasn’t the best plan when neither of them were sure how the magic worked, and whether he would break it. He decided to drive and meet her near Odd Down Park-and-Ride. She’d said it was only a short walk away from the stables in Aquae Sulis that she’d reach using the Way from Londinium.

He’d caught up with a couple of phone calls and was now trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep. He’d been working late every night since the terrible meeting with the Elemental Court, scanning the last of the information Leanne had gathered in the early days of her research that only existed on paper. Thankfully, as time had gone on, she’d backed up onto disks, which were easier to move onto flash drives.

Now that Cathy had a copy, he was less worried about someone tracking down the storage. He’d already moved it all to a different unit, under a different name, but his enemies were resourceful and very motivated to find it.

Enemies? Had he overreacted? He’d been working at full tilt since then, covering his arse, all based on a few reactions from the people in that room. Was this just paranoia?

Even under examination, that gut instinct to protect himself and prepare for battle remained intact, as did his horror that none of them seemed to have any idea about anything other than the normal, “mundane” world.

What had he been expecting? A room full of people in robes, incanting all sorts of weird shit and declaring him Lord Iron? As relieved as he was that it wasn’t an intimidating court with rituals and bizarre rules, he’d been hoping for more. Titles like “Lord Iron” and “Lady Nickel” and “Lord Copper” weren’t the sort of thing that dry businesspeople in suits came up with for themselves. And he was convinced Mazzi knew more than she was letting on. Why had she suddenly clammed up on him, after being so open the first time they’d met? Was it because he was turning out to be a disappointment? A danger?

He wanted to speak to someone who understood the roots of the Court, but with dismay he realised the only viable candidate was Ekstrand. Would that crazy, selfish bastard talk to him and Cathy? He wished he knew another Sorcerer, someone he could question without the baggage he had with Ekstrand.

Mazzi had said that the Sorcerers commissioned special pieces made of pure iron from Amir. That meant there had to be some sort of means of contact between whoever was the current Lord Iron and the current Sorcerer of wherever. It was clear from the way things had been handled after Amir’s suicide that there were rules in place—not being allowed to radically change his business interests for ten years being one of them. Even though he was beginning to question who exactly would enforce those rules, surely there were similar mechanisms in place for dealing with the Sorcerers that he could exploit.

Just because Amir hadn’t trained him in any esoteric skills, nor even mentioned them, didn’t mean the previous Lord Irons were ignorant. As soon as he’d taken Cathy to see Ekstrand, he was going to start some digging into who they were and whether they’d left any diaries or notes behind that could explain what exactly the roots of the Elemental Court were, and what he was capable of as Lord Iron. Once the decision had been made, sleep wasn’t far behind it.

“We’re five minutes away from Odd Down Park-and-Ride, sir,” the driver said, waking him.

Sam sat up and tried to work the crick out of his neck. “Thanks.”

He looked out of the window, seeing the darkening sky. It wasn’t even five in the evening. He hoped Cathy was okay waiting for him.

He’d been relieved to see her looking so well when they met in the diner earlier, the best he’d seen her in a long time. Perhaps she was right to stay in that life. Perhaps the fight put that spark in her, the feeling that she had something to tackle head-on. It didn’t stop him wanting to take her home with him to Cheshire, wrap her in a blanket, put a whisky in her hand, and tell her she didn’t have to see any of those fucks ever again. He’d seen one of them stab her and could still hear that child screaming and the sickening thud of the blade going into Cathy’s chest. She said that husband of hers was different, but he remembered her talking about the marriage and how it was the last thing she wanted. She’d argued so passionately for help with Ekstrand, and that soulless fuck had ignored her. Surely she was just deluding herself. Maybe it was the only way to cope.

They reached a roundabout and the driver took an exit off it straight into the park-and-ride. A rather cold-looking Cathy waved at his car, her bodyguard beside her. Of course Carter was with her. Sam had forgotten about him.

“You weren’t waiting there for two hours, were you?” he asked when they climbed into the car.

“No, only a few minutes,” Cathy said through chattering teeth. “Ooooh, but it’s so lovely to be properly cold! That wind is absolutely bitter!”

Sam smiled at her and the way the tip of her nose was red. “It loses its novelty pretty quick.”

He directed the driver to Ekstrand’s house, and they reached it in the deepening twilight. A solitary light was on above the front door, but no others. “Shit,” Sam said. “Don’t tell me we came all this way and they’re not bloody in.” Then he noticed the dry fountain and the litter and leaves that had gathered around the front of the house. Something was wrong. He didn’t want to worry Cathy, who didn’t know that the house was usually impeccable. Maybe Axon just had the flu or something.

“There’s a Nether version anchored there, though, right?” Cathy asked, and Sam nodded. “I can knock and be heard in the Nether house, it’s fine. Oh, hang on! Won’t you…break the Nether house? Being Lord Iron and all?”

“I didn’t break yours when I visited,” he replied. “I guess the magic that anchors the buildings is hidden away in something. I have to touch it to break it, remember?”

She smiled. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

They got out of the car and Cathy asked her bodyguard to stay inside it, worried that the Sorcerer would be intimidated by him. Carter insisted on getting out of the car, but compromised by staying back from the doorway when they knocked.

Cathy marched up to the door and after whispering a few words that Sam couldn’t make out, rapped on the door with the knocker three times. It seemed to reverberate through the entire house, with an echo that sounded wrong, somehow.

They shivered on the doorstep as the sky grew black. Cathy knocked a second time and then just as she was about to try a third time, the door opened.

Sam hardly recognised Petra. It seemed she was having the same difficulty recognising him.

“Sam?”

“Petra?”

“What happened?” they asked each other in unison.

“Can we come in?” he asked. “It’s freezing.” When Petra gave Cathy a wary look, Sam said, “This is Cathy. She’s been here a few times before, but you never met.”

“You’re the puppet that Max knows?”

Cathy frowned. “I’d prefer not to be called that. But yes, I’m the one.”

There was a moment of hesitation. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“Petra, please,” Sam said. “Everything’s changed. I’m Lord Iron now. And I vouch for Cathy, okay?”

Petra stared at Sam. “Lord Iron? That’s what it is. How…never mind. Come in.” She almost shut the door in Carter’s face.

“That’s my bodyguard,” Cathy said. “Can he come in too?”

After another hesitation, Petra stepped aside for Carter and then shut the front door.

Something was definitely wrong. The place felt abandoned. Then Sam remembered that he’d always been in the Nether house. Perhaps they didn’t use the anchor very much. “I need to speak to Ekstrand and so does Cathy. Is he in the Nether?”

Petra looked away. “I—I’m afraid he’s not available.”

In the light cast by the hallway chandelier, Sam took in the extent of Petra’s dishevelment. Why hadn’t Axon opened the door?

“Petra…” he began, but she rallied herself.

“Perhaps it’s something I can help you with?” she said, smoothing her skirt and trying to tuck some of the strands of hair away from her eyes.

“I want to talk to him about the Agency,” Cathy said. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Probably not enough for your purposes, I’m afraid.” Petra’s smile was horribly brittle.

“Then maybe you could tell me if there’s a way I can get in touch with the Arbiter, Max. He visits sometimes, but—”

“Oh, that I can help with!” Petra fished a piece of paper from her pocket and went to a notepad by the telephone. “He gave me his new mobile phone number earlier. I’ll just write it down for you.”

Sam looked around as she wrote. A couple of strands of cobweb hung from the chandelier and there were dried shoe prints on the black and white floor tiles. Axon never would have stood for that, mundane house or not. He saw the ladders in Petra’s stockings and how greasy her hair looked. When she turned around to give the number to Cathy, he saw a woman desperate to make it seem that everything was fine when it most definitely wasn’t.

She directed that fragile smile at him. “And how can I help you, Sam?”

“I wanted to talk to Ekstrand about the Elemental Court and being Lord Iron,” he began. “My predecessor didn’t leave me any information about the more…unusual aspects of my new job.”

“Well, I know a little. Did you have a question about the protocol for commissioning a piece of pure iron? I know about that.”

“Anything would be great.”

“Well, when you became Lord Iron, a letter will have been sent to all of the…” her voice faltered but she took a moment and then cleared her throat. “All the Sorcerers of Albion, detailing who you are and how you can be contacted.”

Sam had no idea if the letter had been sent out. No one had mentioned it to him— perhaps the knowledge had been lost over Amir’s stewardship. Then again, he couldn’t imagine Ekstrand allowing anyone else to read his correspondence, so maybe she just hadn’t seen it.

“Then whenever a piece is needed,” Petra continued, “the Sorcerer sends a representative with a seal, made of iron, to prove they are who they say they are so the negotiation for the work can be carried out.”

“How do I recognise a seal?”