The Witch Watch (42 page)

“You seem to know this place very well. You knew this alley before we arrived, and this was the first place that came to your mind when we decided we couldn’t go back to your house.”

“It’s not my house, but you’re right. I wanted to come here because I knew we would not be looked for here. If we are spotted by the locals, they won’t trouble us. Father had a good rapport with many of these people, and they think well of me on his account.”

“You say that as if they wouldn’t respect you if not for your father. It’s far more likely that they admire you for your quality than your ancestry.”

“It’s kind of you to say so,” she replied. “Anyway, Father brought me here now and again. Sometimes real witches come to Witching Way to hide. They never do anything so foolish and obvious as to set up a shop and announce themselves, of course. But if you know the right people and know how to ask, you can find them. Captain Turpin and I hid in this very alley two years ago. At the time, there was a rash of attacks by unliving dogs around the city. Dogs were being killed, preserved, then re-animated and set loose. We killed a lot of them, but had trouble finding the source.”

Alice spoke while pointing to the narrow, crooked house on the other side of the street, “That place belongs to a man named Wilfred. More than half crazy, but he’s kind and earnest and most of his medicine and poultices are harmless. Some might even be effective. He told the captain and myself about a young man who showed up frequently and at inconvenient hours, looking to buy embalming agents. Wilfred could barely keep the stuff on hand.”

“A medicine shop that sells embalming fluid?” Gilbert asked.

“I’m sure Wilfred has stranger things than that on his shelves. His place only qualifies as a medicine shop under the broadest and most generous use of the term. At any rate, the Captain and I spent several nights lurking in this very alley, waiting for our necromancer of canines to appear. It was January at the time, and bitter cold. The captain and I kept warm by standing against that wall where Simon and I were just sleeping. There’s a fireplace on the other side, and it loses a lot of heat to the outside. A shame it wasn’t lit last night.”

“But what about the necromancer?” Gilbert said impatiently. “Did you find him?”

“Yes, although the necromancer turned out to be a woman. Eventually the young man appeared and we followed him home, where we found his wife at work killing and reviving dogs. The husband was nothing more than an assistant. Vicious shrew, she was. She wound up hanging from a rope at Tyburn. I’m not sure what became of her husband, although I think he was spared the noose. He’s probably still in prison, although I imagine that’s a better fate than being married to that woman. All those dead dogs of hers. Her stench was incredible.”

Gilbert sighed and paced back and forth for a few minutes. Finally his thoughts came to the surface. “Grayhouse is closed to us. We’re all fugitives in one way or another. Your tools and reference books are gone. We are in a very tight spot. I don’t know how we’re going to rescue Sophie now.”

“Rescue Sophie?” Alice exclaimed incredulously. “I should think not. The idea is absurd.”

“I didn’t like leaving her behind last night,” Gilbert said. “It would have been better to put things right and give her back her vigor. Assuming you know how.”

“Foolishness,” Alice insisted. “Yes, I know how to restore her when the time comes. The Headmaster’s book gave us that secret. But last night was not the time. We would never have escaped without your help. Remember that reviving her means un-reviving you. It’s very likely she could be sick, or weak, or disoriented when she wakes. What if she couldn’t walk on her own? Imagine how short our escape would have been if Simon and I had been carrying the girl.”

“Well, we know where she is. Now we can prepare and mount a proper rescue.”

Alice shook her head. “You were at the party last night. You heard the speech as well as I did. While I would be glad for the opportunity to restore Sophie, our main focus should be on unraveling this plot. It’s no good saving Sophie if the rest of the royal family dies in the meantime. As for finding allies, that may be harder than you imagine. You saw that our foes control some portion of the military. This will be beyond the understanding or expertise of the constables. Who else could we approach for help?”

Gilbert was quiet and paced fitfully. His voice was full of doubt, “I don’t know. But I don’t like leaving her now that we know where she’s being held. If we’re not going to rescue Sophie, then what are we planning to do?”

“An insightful question, for which I have no answer. I think I should pay Lord Moxley another visit. We can leave as soon as Simon is awake.”

“I’m awake,” said a muffled voice from the alley. “I just didn’t want to surrender my blanket.”

“There is a bakery not far from here. If you give Gilbert back his cloak, I can offer you warm bread in return.”

Simon jumped to his feet and hurled the cloak at Gilbert, “In that case, good morning!”

Crossing the city to visit Lord Moxley was an interesting challenge. He had briefly instructed Alice on how to move around in such a way to avoid or discourage people from following her. She tried to follow this advice, but they also decided to cross the city separately. The authorities would no doubt be looking for a woman, a young man, and a very large man in a black cloak. There was nothing they could do to disguise Gilbert, but it did seem reasonable to split up. Gilbert walked a hundred paces behind Simon, who walked a hundred paces behind Alice, who was deliberately making odd turns and stops intended to expose anyone following her secretly. They all felt ridiculous and conspicuous and it wasn’t at all clear if they were being clever or making fools of themselves. Nevertheless, they crossed London without being accosted.

Lord Moxley opened the door and peered out through the crack. When he saw Alice he motioned her into the apartment and quickly shut it again. He returned to the table without a word, and made a vague gesture in the direction of the teapot, in case she was in the mood for a cup. There was a small pile of mismatched papers in front of him. Some were brief scrawls on scraps of paper, while others were proper letters. Some were bits of newspaper with notes written in the margins. Some were crisply folded and others had been crumpled up and smoothed out again. The notes were written by many different hands.

Lord Moxley held two of them, one in each hand. He examined them front and back, holding them up to the light and finally holding one over the other in front of the window. When he was satisfied that he had gleaned the fullness of their contents, he slipped them into the stove.

Alice was put off by this behavior. He was normally so careless, gossipy, or aloof that it was hard to imagine the man sitting down to conduct any sort of serious business.

Alice helped herself to some tea and sat opposite him. “What are you doing?” she said at last.

“I’m reading the papers, silly girl,” he replied. “I know I don’t normally allow you to see me working. It’s unseemly. But these are desperate times. Besides, you seem to feature prominently in these stories and you might be able to cull rumor from fact.”

“It looks like you’ve been at it all morning,” she said, looking at his ink-stained hands.

“All night, actually. I haven’t yet been to bed,” he said flatly. “The papers have been busy for hours, and I have a good deal to do before I can allow myself to sleep. Most of this is due to the actions of our adversaries, although, some of it is your doing.”

“Yes,” Alice said nervously.

“Did you really shoot Brooks in his own home?” he snapped.

She had never seen him angry before. It was shocking. Given his dandy demeanor, she had always imagined his anger – assuming he was capable of it – would be pouty and given to overly dramatic weeping. Instead, he was another man altogether. He seemed suddenly dangerous.

“I did,” she said guardedly. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so frightened of him.

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a blank expression. Soon she began to squirm under his gaze. At last he spoke, “Did you give no thought to what the repercussions might be, even if you hadn’t botched the attempt and left the man alive? Do you have any idea how much weaker our position is now? Did you really think you could stop this obviously vast and well-orchestrated plot by assassinating one man?”

“No sir,” she replied. “I gave no thought to any of those things.”

“Then what did you-“

“He admitted to killing my father.”

A flash of understanding came over his face, and Moxley seemed to soften. He glanced down at the notes in front of him. “I see. That detail was not reported to me. Well, that does give me a measure of comfort. Assuming no more men step forward and confess to the crime, I can hope you are cured of your bloodlust for the time being?”

“If Brooks were standing here now, I would not attempt to kill him again. It was a reckless act, and I do not intend to repeat it.”

“That is a relief. I was worried you had gone mad. Still, we are in a difficult position. You are now a fugitive, and many people will want to question me about the incident. My list of allies was reduced overnight because of this, and I should probably move soon.”

“Allies?”

Moxley shuffled through his papers as he spoke, “More than one of my correspondents suddenly announced that they had news so shocking that they would only tell it to me in person. This of course, means that they want nothing more than to lure me out into the open where I can be captured.”

“You are sure?” Alice said doubtfully. “They might simply have news for you.”

“I have already read about the plot to dethrone Her Majesty, which was revealed at the party last night. I doubt anything could be more shocking than that. Remember that these people are not members of our ministry. They are friends, schemers, acquaintances, and gossips. They are only as reliable as the coin I give them, and Brooks has many, many more coins than I do.”

“You have already heard about the plot?” Alice asked in surprise.

“I have. I may know more of it than you. Brooks spoke more of it after your escape. And now I’m sure you will ask me how I know that, and the answer is of course that you weren’t my only agent in attendance.”

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but Moxley interrupted her. “And your next question is why I would send more than one. The answer is that two people will give very different reports. I can then use these reports to verify or refute one another, to avoid being misled by liars or back-stabbers. And your final question is to ask why I didn’t tell you. Because it’s safer for both of you if you are ignorant of each other. Have I properly anticipated and answered your questions?”

Alice shut her mouth and gave a single nod.

“Good. After you left the party, Brooks explained that King Mordaunt plans to seize the throne tonight. He made no secret of this and even encouraged people to spread the word. Most of my correspondence this morning is that single item of news, repeated again and again, as it traveled up the chain of command, and passed along to me by concerned parties. The note at the bottom of the pile is the end of the chain so far, and it comes from a member of Prince Albert’s staff. There is no doubt in my mind that the Queen and her husband know of this plot. They are most likely meeting with their advisors right this minute, and taking this very seriously.”

“Why would Brooks show his hand like this?” Alice asked.

“Why indeed! He delivered the news knowing it would reach his adversaries. He gave them warning of Mordaunt’s coming, but not enough time to plan for it. The Queen has less than a day to devise her response, and she doesn’t know how or when he will arrive. Brooks hasn’t exposed himself overmuch, but it’s still not clear why he exposed himself at all. Why not remain silent and take everyone by surprise?”

“In his speech, Brooks petitioned his guests to stay out of the fight. He wanted them to remain neutral, so that they could live to serve the new regime,” Alice explained.

Moxley frowned, “There is perhaps truth in that, but he didn’t need to give them a firm date. He could have remained secret on when the struggle would begin. Now that I’m considering it, I’m wondering if I’m looking at this wrong. Perhaps he didn’t aim his announcement at the Queen, but at the city itself. This news is spreading quickly. It’s known to a few of us now, but scandal of this magnitude won’t be contained. By sundown half the city will have heard about it, which is perhaps his aim. What benefit is a coronation if there are no witnesses? Perhaps he wants the Queen to respond, and perhaps he wants to make sure the contest is public. There’s an alarming thought. It would mean he was extraordinarily confident of his position.”

“Has the Queen sent for you?” Alice asked. “It seems like she ought to solicit our advice when faced with the prospect of an insurrection led by a lich.”

He shook his head and stifled a yawn. “Possibly she has, and word hasn’t yet reached me. I’m very far from my office on King Charles Street, and messages make their way here through secret routes, not swift ones. Possibly she doubts my loyalty. She might even reach out to the church. They might be a better ally against a large, organized foe. Our ministry is designed to investigate, not fight battles.” At this thought, Moxley slumped down into his chair and his face fell.

“You look very tired,” Alice said softly. “Are you sure you can’t dare an hour or two of sleep? I’d be happy to help, or keep watch, or whatever else you need.”