Андреа Хёст - The Pyramids of London

“Sphinxes from Hatshepsu’s tomb, hunting fulgite, and in turn sought by Egypt.” The princess pursed her lips. “Could Hatshepsu herself have Answered? Done something to her tomb guardians that allows them to produce fulgite?”

“What, lay it like eggs?”

Princess Leodhild made a choking noise, then threw her head back and laughed. Makepeace grimaced, but Princess Aerinndís smiled.

Rian looked away, and found Makepeace was watching her, but thankfully he didn’t comment, simply saying: “I hope you’re wrong, Hildy.”

“So am I,” Princess Leodhild said, sobering. “If this is artificial fulgite, and it is produced not by chemical process, but by some god-touched gift, and whatever produces it is here …”

“Then we will no doubt receive many more deputations offering to help with windstorms,” Princess Aerinndís said, unmoved by visions of disaster. “This theory is almost entirely guesswork.”

“Oh yes, held together by string and paste,” Princess Leodhild agreed. “Still, the timing makes me fairly certain that there is a link between the storms and those sphinxes, and the sphinxes and the fulgite. The rest, well, we shall see. What about this climbing bull of yours, Comfrey? Linked to the sphinxes?”

“It didn’t resemble anything I’ve seen out of Egypt. At a guess, that belongs to the thieves.”

“A better description than ‘a clawed bull’ would help me in searching for it,” Princess Aerinndís said.

“How many clawed bulls could there be in London?”

“Do you have paper and a pencil?” Rian asked. “I saw enough to give you an idea of it.”

Directed to the table behind her, Rian produce a clean sketch, and slid it across to the Crown Princess.

“And yet, not an hour ago, you told me you hadn’t the talent for art,” Princess Leodhild said.

“I was thoroughly trained. This is simply a skill for me, not a calling.”

“The winds can play with that then,” Makepeace said, tilting his head to glance at the picture. “And send it off to Bermondsley to see whether she can identify it among the known god-touched—it’s rare there’s something I don’t recognise. I’ll continue on after the thieves. Hildy, you could, perhaps, tolerate more of Gustav in order to see where leading questions take you. And Wednesday will pursue Folly.”

There was a hint of mockery in that last, which Rian ignored, her own attention on the Crown Princess’ hands as she lifted the sketch.

“What of the second piece of fulgite?” Princess Aerinndís asked. “Do you not want to send it for analysis?”

“The original experiment—the idea that this particular fulgite will produce an automaton capable of functioning without command—is worth pursuing.” Makepeace folded his arms, and dropped his head down to rest on them, adding: “The thing is moving, isn’t it?”

“Not while we’ve been there,” Rian said. “But it was no longer in the place we left it. The amasen wouldn’t have shifted it?”

“Lila has been tasked with guarding and reporting, no more.”

Blinking at the discovery of a name, Rian said: “You can speak to them?”

“Cernunnos can.”

“Then that’s settled for now,” Princess Leodhild said, briskly. “Thank you for coming in, Dama Seaforth, and do send word if anyone else pronounces you saviour of Prytennia. Don’t forget that Tete wants you, Comfrey.”

Makepeace heaved another sigh, but levered himself out of his chair obediently. Rian quickly followed suit, making the briefest of bows before trailing her vampire out. She couldn’t resist stealing one last glance back at the Crown Princess, languidly rising, and then put the woman out of her thoughts.

Ignoring Makepeace’s derisive expression she said: “You really were at Forest House all along? Griff will be disappointed—he’s very attached to the idea of a secret entrance to the house.”

Her vampire didn’t respond immediately, climbing the spiral stair. But he paused in the shade of the tower’s portico entrance and turned a measuring look on her. Rian was aware of her own heartbeat quickening, but ignored the memory of teeth, not allowing physical fear to keep her from meeting his gaze.

“No,” he said, eventually. “Only at the end. I came in through the grove, as I do here.”

“Grove? In Gwyn Lynn Palace?”

“Any collection of trees is a grove to Cernunnos.” Makepeace followed the edge of the portico around to a walkway heavily draped in vines, and strode on ahead, passing quickly through a section where the wind-burned leaves let through the hazy light of the afternoon sun.

Wondering how many of the design decisions of the palace had been made to accommodate the Wind’s Dog, Rian waited until the man had reached a shadier point, then said: “I was thinking that the Suleviae were demonstrating a remarkable trust in my ability to hold my tongue, but of course it’s simply that you’ve made it impossible for me to speak out of turn.”

“You were the one looking to put a collar around your throat.”

“The children weren’t.” The standard mesmeric abilities of vampires did not allow for nuanced commands, but she’d felt him lay an order to hold their tongues upon them. A control of minds, perception—what would that permit?

“Are you an open secret? Had I just not heard the gossip?”

He ignored her, leading the way into the Sulevia Leoth’s section of the royal residences, to an uncomfortably warm room thrumming with song. The children sprawled on cushions, and shifted as the two triskelion descended to whirl around Makepeace’s head.

“Go roast someone else,” he said, waving a hand as if shooing flies. “Tete, I hope you’ve something worthwhile to show me.”

The youngest of the Gwyn Lynn family jumped to her feet and took the dangling cuff of Makepeace’s sleeve in both her hands.

“She has a whole sequence done,” Princess Iona said, levering herself up on one elbow while the rest of the children clambered upright. “Tete makes lumiscope strips,” she added, her gaze now on Rian. “She won’t show them to us until Comfrey has sneered at them.”

The youngest princess was pulling Makepeace urgently toward one of the room’s three exits, but Griff had set himself up as a roadblock.

“Why don’t you talk old-fashioned?”

Makepeace sidestepped. “Why would I?”

“Because people talked differently back when you were growing up?”

“People talk differently in Lutèce as well, but I see no reason to speak French to you.” He glanced at Rian. “I’ll send one of the midges to see you out.”

“I’ll do that,” Prince Luc said.

“So obliging, Luc,” Princess Iona murmured from her cushions. “What are you up to?”

“Indulging my curiosity,” her brother said. “You never look properly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The princess began to sit up, but then lay back as if the effort was too great. “Ah, I’ll get it out of you later. Lovely to meet you all. Thanks for the excuse to skip lessons.”

Rian was pleased with her charges for responding with reasonable aplomb, particularly as one Gwyn Lynn was disappearing out the room, a second half-asleep, and the third’s attention almost entirely on the animal in her lap. The last quietly indicated an exit.

The twins seemed particularly subdued, but Griff’s spirits bounded as soon they were out of sight of the puppy, and he peered eagerly in every direction, keen to view as much of the palace as possible.

“I intended to ask our escort if we could visit the Stone Garden,” Rian said to the young prince, “but I suspect that’s where you’re taking us.”

“Then I was right,” Prince Luc said, looking pleased. “It took me an age to work out why your nephew seemed so familiar.”