A Little Knowledge (33 page)

“They won’t shut them down,” Sam said. “They’re the most productive in Copper’s portfolio. The deposit is too big for him to just give up on. He’ll be forced to improve conditions.”

“He doesn’t control that sort of stuff!”

“Well, he fucking should!” Sam stood up. “I told you lot that things were going to change, and if I waited for you, nothing would happen!”

“You can’t just fuck over the other people in the Court like this!” Susan said. “They’re going to come after CoFerrum Inc and we’re not exactly saintly either, you know.”

“What the fuck do you think I’ve been working on over the past two weeks?” Sam pushed his chair back, moving round his desk to face her. “I already knew just how bad things are. I’ve got a team of people overhauling every mine, foundry, and factory Amir left to me and within a year all of them are going to be the cleanest operations, the most environmentally responsible, and the best employers in the world.”

Susan paled. “You’ve broken the ten-year rule; you’re not supposed to make any major changes to Amir’s company until—”

“But he planned to do this,” Sam said, not caring if she believed the lie or not. “I found some old files of his, planning it all. He just didn’t get the chance to see it through.”

“That is such bullshit!”

“Prove it’s not,” Sam said, having already decided that the worst they could do was set the Elemental Court on him.

“I don’t need to. If those files were real we’d already know about them and you wouldn’t have had to hire a team in secret. You went behind our backs.”

“I had to! This is supposed to be mine, you know.
I’m
Lord Iron. Not you!”

She looked away, so furious she couldn’t speak, as if he’d said something worse.

“Oh!” He shook his head. “I’m such an idiot—I should have guessed. You were one of the potentials! You thought he would pick you!”

“I have no idea why he chose a cretin like you, but I thought he saw something I couldn’t,” she replied. “I was wrong. You were just a mistake. He was starting to lose it and now I see how bad he got. Fuck Amir! And fuck you. I quit.”

Sam’s desk phone started to ring. He shrugged at Susan. “If that’s the way you feel, you’d better tell HR. Just don’t forget the NDA you signed. If you go to anyone else in the Court, if you take any data with you on anything to do with my shit, I’ll roast you.”

“Oh, piss off, you fucking hippie!” she said, opening the door.

“Give your phone to Des on the way out,” Sam said, loud enough for Des to hear. “He’ll send your personal belongings to your home address.”

She slammed the door behind her. The phone was still ringing. He took a moment, glad she was gone and hoping she’d take some of the others with her, then picked up.

“I know you did this,” Copper said.

“I told you I was going to do something,” Sam replied, sitting back down. “Question is, what are you going to do about it? It’s going to get worse if you don’t sort your shit out.”

“I’m cutting you out of the Bolivian deal.”

Sam struggled to remember what that even was. There was something mentioned about it at the Court, but he’d mostly tuned out by that point of Copper’s talk, unable to concentrate whilst he was reeling from how disappointing they all were. “Whatever.”

“And I’ll tell you this. It’s going to get worse for
you
if you don’t sort
your
shit out.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a fuck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more important things to do.”

He put the phone down and tilted his chair back, ignoring the phone when it started to ring again. Was this what his life was now? Angry phone calls and people coming into his office to shout at him? It was like
Dallas
or some other shitty soap opera he used to watch as a kid so he could stay up late. Rich people stamping their feet at each other when they didn’t get their own way. Sod them.

There was another knock on the door, one he recognised as Des. “Come in.”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“You’re not going to jack your job in too, are you, Des?”

The man smiled. “Not planning to, sir. There’s a lady on the line, says she needs to speak to you about something private. She called your unlisted number, sir, the one no one’s supposed to have.”

Sam sat up. It couldn’t be Cathy; she’d call his mobile. “Put her through.”

Des went out and moments later the phone rang again. Sam picked up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lord Iron?”

“Speaking.”

“Good morning. My name is Beatrice. I’m a representative from the Sorcerer of Essex. I was wondering if I could come to see you regarding a commission.”

Sam straightened. “The Sorcerer of Essex?”

“Yes. Dante would like to commission a piece, but is unable to travel and wants me to come to discuss it with you. It’s quite complex and he doesn’t trust other means of communication.”

“Umm, yeah, come to my place in Cheshire. Do you know where that is?”

“I do, Lord Iron; it was in the latest communication sent out by your staff. I shall be with you by this evening, if that’s convenient?”

“Great, see you then,” Sam said, and put the phone down. So the wheels surrounding his becoming Lord Iron had been turning. And maybe Petra wasn’t as much of a rarity as he thought. Maybe all the Sorcerers had women working for them as well as men.

He rubbed his hands together. Maybe she could tell him more about the Sorcerers and what they expected of him. Maybe she’d know where that forge near the Thames that he’d seen on the iron slab was. Either way, his first commission was a milestone he was more excited about than his first threat from a member of the Elemental Court.

• • •

Elizabeth descended the stairs in her new gown, feeling quite pleased with herself for needing only two hours to get ready for meeting her future husband. Of course, no contract had been signed and Mother hadn’t even met him yet, but she was confident all would go smoothly. She was beautiful and accomplished and everything a man would want from a wife. He was rich and came from a good family. It couldn’t be more perfect.

She wondered whether he would want to stay in Londinium or establish his new family elsewhere. As long as he didn’t want to live in Jorvic or Aquae Sulis, she’d be happy with anywhere else in Albion, as long as the house was at least as nice as this one. Elizabeth was just about to start making decisions about whether she wanted to have her wedding gown in the empire line or something with a fuller skirt when she became aware of a cluster of servants near the front door.

“What’s happened?” she asked the butler.

“The Duchess hasn’t returned. Neither has the Duke.”

“Oh, he’s not going to be back until this evening. Is something wrong?”

The butler moved so that he could keep glancing out of the window as he spoke. “The Maharaj Kumari of Rajkot is due any minute, and the Duchess isn’t here to receive her.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “My sister is the worst Duchess in the history of Albion.”

“They’re here!” one of the maids called. “Look at all the carriages!”

They all went to the windows and Elizabeth felt a spike of envy at the sight of the Princess’s entourage rolling up to the house in over a dozen carriages. Why couldn’t William have found a prince for her to marry?

“Are we expected to give lunch to all of them?” asked one of the maids.

“It was unclear in the message,” the butler replied, his forehead shining with sweat.

“Is she the princess who went to the ball in Aquae Sulis?” Elizabeth asked, but no one seemed to know. She couldn’t think of any other princesses visiting Albion. It was so unfair. Cathy didn’t care a jot about how lucky she was to have royalty visit. How typical that she’d forgotten. She thought of no one but herself.

One of the footmen jumped down from the back of the most ornately decorated carriage while a man emerged from another. He was dressed in brightly coloured silk that made Elizabeth feel very drab in her white Regency gown. She marvelled at the colour of his skin, at his hair worn long and braided at the back and at the curved sword hanging from beneath the saffron-coloured sash wrapped around his waist.

He marched up the steps and the butler shooed the staff into a receiving line, pausing when he came across Elizabeth, who ignored him and continued to watch from the window. The Princess was being helped from the carriage by a very attractive footman.

When she stepped out, the Princess paused to have the silks of her sari arranged as a set of four bodyguards with their own curved swords got out of the second carriage and arranged themselves behind her.

Elizabeth had never seen so many jewels worn by a single person. From the tiny gems stitched into the embroidered cloth to the larger ones set into her tiara, the Princess glittered with the most astounding wealth. Elizabeth pouted. The Princess was beautiful, too, and that really was too much. Her skin was so smooth and its dark brown against the reds and golds of her regal clothes looked so attractive compared to her own milky skin. Her black hair was so long it brushed the hem of her sari even though it was partly braided and arranged beneath the tiara. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. Surely it was only so smooth and perfect because of a Charm?

There was a loud knock at the door. After a moment with his eyes closed, as if in prayer, Morgan opened the door.

The man on the doorstep gave the slightest bow, one acknowledging an equal, and said, “Her Royal Highness, Maharaj Kumari Rani Nucifera-Nelumbo.”

He stood aside as the Princess climbed the steps. Elizabeth could see a drop of sweat roll down the side of Morgan’s head. This was ridiculous. Trust Cathy to insult someone on an international scale without even realising it.

“Your Royal Highness,” Morgan said, and then bowed, moving aside to admit her.

Elizabeth saw the edge of the Princess’s silk slipper cross the threshold and then walked over, the brightest, sweetest smile on her face. “Your Royal Highness,” she said as the Princess entered, followed by the guards. “Welcome to Londinium and to Lancaster House. You honour us with your visit.”

She could see Morgan’s eyes, wide and fearful, over the Princess’s shoulder.

“I was told you are very plain,” the Princess said. “More lies.” She turned to the man who’d announced her. “Bring the box.”

“Would you like to take tea with me in the drawing room?” Elizabeth said, doing her best to ignore the horrified expressions on the servants’ faces. They were so silly—she hadn’t lied about who she was, she was merely being polite.

“No,” the Princess said sharply, breaking Elizabeth’s flow. “I will not be here very long.”

“Oh. Do you have another engagement?”

“I am returning home as soon as my business here is over.”

Elizabeth smiled again, wondering why the Princess was being so cold. Had she already met Cathy? No, judging by what she had said about being plain, she couldn’t have. Was there some point of etiquette she was unaware of?

“I see,” Elizabeth said, hoping that her smile didn’t seem too forced. “Has your tour of Albion been enjoyable?”

“It has been most enlightening,” the Princess replied frostily.

“I must say, your English is very good.”

The Princess drew herself up as if Elizabeth had said something rude. “Did you expect me to sound like a savage? My tutors were educated at Mumbai, Oxford, and Yale. I have had elocution lessons since the age of three. I am fluent in ten languages and English is my least favourite.”

Elizabeth blinked. She was so rude! But all she could wonder about was the places other than Oxford that she mentioned with such pride. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with Mum—Mumbabai, nor Yale. Are they in Mundanus?”

She could see Morgan close his eyes again, as if prayer were something he had only just discovered and wanted to do again and again. Like lawn tennis, she supposed.

The Princess fixed her with a glare. “I have come to expect ignorance here. You are no exception.”

Elizabeth was so shocked the words flew from her mind. As she grasped for a pithy retort, the man came back in, carrying a large ebony box inlaid with exquisite marquetry of ivory and mother-of-pearl.

“I bring a message from my father, formerly known as the Prince of Rajkot. My father, the Maharana of Gujarat, no longer recognises the authority of the Patroons of Albion. We are henceforth the independent Kingdom of Gujarat, and the Maharana and Maharani of Gujarat will serve our Fae patrons directly. The thirty-seven members of the Rajkot Court who were born in Albion or Great Britain have been expelled. Your people are no longer welcome in Gujarat. This box,” she waved a jewelled hand at it, “contains the trade contracts previously held by citizens of Albion, many of them residents of Londinium. They are declared void as the Princely State of Rajkot no longer exists. All rights to export our goods are denied. No tithes will be paid to you or any of the Patroons of Albion from this day. Our sovereign border is closed to you and should any of your agents be discovered doing business in mundane Gujarat, they will be expelled.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. She had the impression that the speech had been rehearsed and was very important, but she didn’t understand all of it. She knew nothing about Rajkot or Gujarat or contracts, but it was clear something had gone very wrong. People expelled from their court? No tithes? This sounded very serious.

“But…but why?” was all she could think of to say.

The Princess took a step towards her, intimidating in her regalia. “Over fifty years have passed since those in Mundanus threw off the shackles of your disgusting empire. That knowledge was hidden from my family, our Court held under Albion’s thumb, our nobles Charmed and intimidated into following your Patroons and their pawns placed in our Royal Court. No more.”

“Disgusting empire?” Elizabeth said, feeling her cheeks flush. “How dare you!”

“No, little Duchess, how dare
you!
How dare you profit from the wealth of our kingdom whilst taxing our royal family and denying us the right to trade our own goods? I came to Albion to see it for myself and to do the bidding of my father, the Maharana.” The Princess took another step forwards, forcing Elizabeth to move back a step. It didn’t seem that she was delivering a message by rote anymore. “And what do I find, Duchess? I find people who think of the world as it was hundreds of years ago. I have been treated as nothing more than a thing to be paraded at parties to demonstrate the power and influence of the ones
I
granted permission to escort me there! I have been spoken to like a child, a savage, an object to be slavered over and bargained for like a goat in a mundane market. I have had people touch my skin as if expecting it to feel different, without asking permission to approach my royal person. But that is not the worst I have found here.”