The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2) (4 page)

Beads of sweat had broken out on Robin’s forehead, icy cool in the blistering heat, but amongst the silent, undulating maelstrom of glittering stones, he couldn’t help grinning.

“Perhaps you should stop
before
you faint,” she suggested. “I’m certainly not carrying you back to the house. You will probably burn terribly if left unconscious in the sun, and I am likely to forget I left you here.”

Robin, whose vision had indeed begun to darken and waver ever so slightly around the edges, nodded and let his hand drop. There were a few moments of rattling cacophony, deafening, rolling thunder, as the host of stones fell back to earth on either side of them and all around the lake. There was a considerable cloud of dust.

“It was easier…” Robin tried not to stagger, coughing a little in the dust “ … when I had the Shard of Air.”

She smirked. “You should be a promising student,” she said. “Good at cantrips certainly, elemental manipulation magic, that much we have established already. Later we shall test your skills in combat. I look forward to discovering your offensive and defensive capabilities. And, of course, as I am to confer with your existing tutor, we shall need to decide how to divide your time for lessons.”

“Phorbas isn’t really
conferrable
,” Robin said awkwardly. “Eris’ people got to him before he ever made it to Erlking and killed him. He’s a knife these days.”

This didn’t seem to concern the woman in the slightest. “Of course. But still, you will need training in the Tower of Air no doubt, no matter
how
impressive your store of mana, or your focus or control. I can personally guarantee you that Lady Eris’ is
more
impressive.” She inspected her pale coral fingernails, looking completely uninterested. “Mr Phorbas, whether he is currently a satyr or a letter-opener, has not much skill in the Tower of Water however, unlike me. I am, as I said, a nymph. We have an affinity for water. We served the Undine once, before the war.”

Robin didn’t know what an Undine was. He was still getting his head around meeting a nymph to be honest.

“Would you like to come up to the house and meet everyone, Miss…”

“Just
Madame
will be fine,” replied Madame Calypso, gazing at him in a languid and ethereal way. “And yes, that’s probably unavoidable isn’t it?” She sighed again. “I suppose if I have agreed to do this for your guardian, I should know what I am getting myself into, and with whom.” She glanced behind her at the lake. She seemed to long to return to the water already. “Your lessons with me, Scion of the Arcania, will not take place in any dry house of stone and timber. We will conduct the majority of our sessions here, on the water. Out on that little island out there I think.” She stepped past him, treading with experimental caution on the grass at the edge of the stony beach, her slinky dress clutched delicately in her fists as if she didn’t quite trust solid ground. “Yes, that will suit our purposes fine. I shall expect you there at 9AM sharp. Come along now. There are introductions to be made and discussions to be had that I can’t put off any longer.”

Robin looked out at the lake in worry, and at the large expanse of water between here and the island. It looked an awfully long way out. “But … I can’t swim,” he said, which was a rather lame and embarrassing thing to say, especially when he had just used up nearly all of his store of mana trying to be impressive for this strange new woman.

“Hmm. That
is
a worry,” Madame Calypso said, setting off toward the trees and not sounding remotely worried. “I should
learn
rather quickly then, if I were you, Scion of the Arcania. You will certainly be of no use to me drowned.”

THE MIDNIGHT POOL

Predictably, Karya and Henry had been waiting for Robin in his bedroom, a large circular affair in the turret of Erlking’s tower. Both of them were itching to know what had occurred at the lake.

“A new tutor?” Henry had asked, frowning in confusion. “Only a matter of time I suppose until one came along. Are they like Phorbas then?”

“Nothing at all,” Robin said. He was lying face down on the bed, utterly exhausted. His limbs felt like lead. Henry was sitting on one of the deep windowsills, trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to catch a breath of wind from the stifling heat outside. Karya was seated in a lumpy but comfortable chair by the empty fireplace, her knees tucked up comfortably, wrapped in her enormous shaggy coat like a cosy blanket, and seemingly impervious to the heat.

“Phorbas had his own particular strengths,” she supplied. “He was very skilled in the Tower of Air, but had only a basic grasp of the others. Most of us are that way. Fae or Panthea. Specialists in one particular field of magic. I imagine this new tutor of yours, being a nymph and all, is adept in water mana.”

“That’s what she said,” Robin mumbled into his pillow.

“A
woman
though?” Henry made a face.Karya shot him a deathly glare from her seat which he studiously ignored. “I still can’t believe you nearly killed yourself showing off to her like that though, mate. What was all that about, lifting half the lakeshore up? I’m surprised you didn’t strain a mana-muscle or something.”

Robin wasn’t quite sure why he had done it, to be honest. He shrugged bonelessly. Right now, he just wished his friends would both go away so he could have a good sleep. His mana was utterly spent. Between the two of them, they had already dragged every detail out of his meeting with their endless questions.

“She’s a nymph,” Karya explained, rolling her eyes. “It’s what they do. They don’t mean to I don’t think, it’s just their nature. They turn male minds to jelly. Frankly, I’m surprised you stopped before you fainted.” She smirked a little, tucking a dark brown strand of wild hair behind her head and turning the page of her book. “It’s all rather pathetic really. Not that it would have impressed her anyway. Nymphs don’t really care about other people. They’re not wired that way. It can make them seem cruel or cold, but that would be unfair. It’s not that they lack empathy completely, it’s more that they find it hard to be interested in what happens to others. Which makes for a very strange choice for a tutor if you ask me.”

Robin considered that Aunt Irene’s choice of willing tutor may have been severely limited.

Henry sniggered. “Is she a looker then?” he probed. Neither he nor Karya had met her yet. When Robin and his new tutor had reached the house, Hestia the housekeeper had materialised out of nowhere like a jack-in-the-box to whisk her off to meet Aunt Irene and shoo Robin away like a bothersome fly. She must have been peering out of windows, wishing Erlking had net curtains to twitch, Robin thought. He’d never met anybody as much of a busybody as Hestia. Madame Calypso had smiled politely at the housekeeper, in her distant half-asleep yet oddly aloof way, but Hestia clearly hadn’t been very impressed by what she saw. She had looked very unhappy about meeting the graceful woman, and had ushered her inside grimly, her lips pressed so thin with disapproval that they were almost invisible. Whatever her issue, she clearly wasn’t fond of nymphs.

“She’s … a bit weird I suppose,” Robin admitted. “She’s pretty enough.” She was in fact stunning, but he wasn’t about to say this out loud to Henry and Karya. “But she’s a bit spaced out. She talks to herself, mutters.” He pushed himself up off the pillows. “That’s not why I did it anyway. I wasn’t trying to show off because she was gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous now, is it?” Karya said lightly.

“It was ‘pretty’ a minute ago,” Henry teased. Robin ignored them both.

“I just … I suppose I just didn’t want to look rubbish. Make a good impression.”

“If you say so, Scion,” Karya said, inspecting her fingernails.

“Seriously, I think she had to give a lot up to come here and help train me.” Robin frowned at her. “She didn’t seem very happy about it. It’s hardly good for your social life in the Netherworlde, being connected to the world’s last changeling. I thought she should at least know I’m not a complete waste of time. From the impression I got, I don’t think she can go back to whatever life she left behind over there.”

“Tell me about it,” Karya sighed. “Consorting with the likes of you? Might as well paint a target on your head. We should know.”

“What I want to know,” Henry interrupted. “How do we know that she’s the real deal, then? Not some evil servant of Eris like last time you got a teacher? Don’t know about you two, but I don’t remember that working out very well last time. We had one of those weird creepy old men living under our roof for months without knowing it.”

“She’s not one of the Grimm organisation,” Karya said reassuringly. She glanced at Robin. “The same thought occurred to me when you left to meet her, so I asked your aunt. Irene told me she had means in place to stop any of their kind entering Erlking’s grounds these days, whether they’re in disguise or not. They physically can’t do it.”

“Enhanced wards?” Robin asked, intrigued, but the small girl only shrugged.

“She didn’t specify, to be honest. But I don’t think Lady Irene is the kind to be caught by the same trick twice.”

“Me neither,” Henry growled. Last year, he had been kidnapped by one of the Grimms, the dangerous and loyal lieutenants of Lady Eris herself. They were boogeymen of the highest order. He was still quite sore about it.

“I wonder why the sudden decision to start on the Tower of Water, though.” Robin had been wondering. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve even finished on the Tower of Air yet. Why the urgency to learn water magic? We never even had any warning this new tutor was coming.” He sat up on his bed, making the ancient springs squeak. “Don’t you think it’s a bit sudden? Why wouldn’t Irene have mentioned it before, rather than just out of the blue now?”

“It does seem a little … fishy.” Henry grinned. Robin and Karya both gave him a look. He held up his hands defensively. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure your guardian has her reasons, and I’m sure they are good ones,” Karya told Robin. “You should devote yourself fully to your studies,” she added piously.

“You’ve been spending too much time with the old girl, you have,” Henry said. “Working on this translation, or whatever it is. Speaking of … has this watery new lass given you a list of books as long as your arm to read yet, Rob?” He glanced at Robin’s bed, which was, as ever, covered in scattered books on the Tower of Air. He read some of the covers aloud.

“‘Nine White Winds’ by Professor Zephyr Muldoon, ‘A Treatise on the Art of Air Shaping’ by Gaseous Binge, ‘101 Cantrips for Gusts and Breezes’ Marietta Whelks, ‘Ethercraft volumes I - VIII’ by Harmonious Von Netherblast.” He sniggered at this last one.

“She hasn’t given me anything like that,” Robin said. “I don’t even know what we’re going to be doing. All I know is that she expects me to be down at the lake tomorrow morning, and doesn’t seem very concerned by the fact that I’m likely to be just drowning energetically. I can’t swim at all.”

“Really?” Karya peered at him with unconcealed disdain.

“Bit brutal that, Rob,” Henry said. “She sounds a bit harsh to be honest, saucy nymph or not, expecting you to just learn like that.” He clicked his fingers. “No one could do that overnight.”

“I’m aware of that, thanks,” Robin sank hopelessly back into his pillows again.

“Well, not unless they had black kraken seaweed and bile anyway,” Karya nodded in agreement, shrugging. “And that’s hardly easy to come by.”

Robin sat back up again sharply. He and Henry exchanged looks. “What do you mean?” they both asked.

The girl looked a little self-conscious under their twin stares. Her unearthly golden eyes flicked from Henry to Robin. “Well … nothing really. I was just thinking aloud. If you had black kraken seaweed and mixed it with bile from one of the beasts, you could brew yourself up a swimming draught, that’s all.”

“What’s that?” Robin pressed. “A swimming what?”

“It’s a concoction,” she explained, closing her book in one hand. “A potion, I suppose. Half liquid, half pure mana. It’s supposed to imbue the drinker with the knowledge of the strongest swimmer.” She shrugged. “It’s only a legend anyway, I was attempting to be glib and fanciful. Sailors in the Netherworlde used to say they made and drank it before long voyages, in case they got shipwrecked. Little old ladies used to sell it in tiny bottles on the docks in all the coastal towns, though I’m sure nine times out of ten it was almost certainly just water with a bit of ink and a twig in it.”

“And you just need seaweed and bile for it? Whatever that is?” Henry asked.

“Kraken bile, yes. According to tradition.” Karya nodded “And not just any old seaweed. Has to be black kraken seaweed. It grows naturally wherever kraken are.” She glanced from one boy to the other again, curious at being the subject of their rapt attention. “I was just being sarcastic really. It’s not like it’s a common shopping list item. I know old Hestia is quite the skilled herbalist, but I doubt even
she
has jars of black kraken seaweed and bile stashed about the place. It’s hardly like we can just order this stuff from the local supermarket in that little human village near here, even if it is a Waitrose.” She looked thoughtful. “Although I suppose there’s always the internet? I hear this Electronics-bay, or whatever humans call it, is quite good for this sort of boutique shopping?”

Henry grinned at Robin, ignoring Karya’s suggestion. Computers, telephones and anything too technological didn’t seem to work well in Erlking anyway. It tended to pitch a fit once it got on the grounds. Too much latent mana in the air. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, mate?”

Robin, who was suddenly feeling less tired and exhausted, nodded back. “I think we should take a night-time trip to the old pool room tonight.”

Karya, clearly confused, folded her arms. “What
are
you two talking about?” she demanded to know. “What’s in this pool room that’s so blasted important?”

“Hopefully…” Robin said. “A bile-filled, seaweed encrusted monster called ‘Inky’.”

* * *

It was midnight, and Robin, fully dressed and carrying a torch, padded silently through the quiet and moonlit corridors of Erlking Hall. He followed the shadowy figure of Henry, who had assured him he remembered the way to the old, boarded up pool room. Henry also carried a dark torch, as well as a large sack, which clinked ominously, filled as it was with empty jam jars he had earlier pilfered, at great danger of being caught, from Hestia the housekeeper’s pantry. He had a pair of swimming goggles pushed high up on his head. “Just in case,” he had explained to Robin as they had met after lights-out in the darkness outside his bedroom.

It was a strange feeling, stealing through the silent darkness, knowing that they should be tucked up in bed, and that everyone else in the house was sleeping. Hestia would skin them alive if she knew they were sneaking around in the middle of the night, exploring forbidden corridors and poking their noses into places she most certainly wouldn’t approve of. But the housekeeper was shut up in her own rooms for the night, playing reedy gramophone music, as was her habit.

At this late hour, their strange new guest, the enigmatic Madame Calypso had retired to the guest chambers which Henry’s father had arranged for her. Robin hadn’t seen her since they’d reached the house earlier in the day. Even Aunt Irene had turned in for the night, although Robin secretly suspected the old woman didn’t actually sleep. She always seemed too busy. She was probably locked away in a high study somewhere, scribbling away in one of her numerous ledgers by guttering candlelight.

Robin was just glad that it was the weekend, and Henry had been allowed to sleep over at the hall. It wouldn’t have been half as much fun on his own. He shuddered, remembering the monochrome rooms.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Robin hissed in a stage whisper as he followed the padding Henry around yet another corner, into a long dusty gallery which was filled with old suits of dull armour. He’d never been in this part of Erlking before. Robin didn’t even know what floor they were on. He was fairly sure it was the ground floor, but there were so many little steps here and there it was impossible to be certain. Erlking within had a way of turning you around.

The walls here were hung with heavy gathered swags of velvet, deep reddish-brown like old wine. They might once have been tapestries, before time, age and dust had erased whatever patterns they had.

“As sure as I can be,” Henry said reassuringly, leading his pale companion through the swags of velvety darkness. “There’s been no reason for anyone to come to this part of the house for years. Don’t know if you noticed, but your great aunt is not really the type to throw half-term pool parties.” He stubbed his toe on an unexpected and apparently purposeless step in the middle of the corridor and cursed inventively under his breath. “Even Hestia hardly comes near the pool room unless she absolutely has to; look, there’s dust and spider webs and stuff. Where else you ever seen those in Erlking?”

Henry had a point. Hestia considered Erlking her solemn duty, and though she couldn’t be said to do it without constant complaint, she kept the manor spotless.