Андреа Хёст - The Pyramids of London

The trip to the sprawl of workshops, factories and occasional farms that made up London’s west had not been productive: no new haunted automaton stories, and even fewer bored craftsmen willing to take interested children on a tour of the facilities. They were all too busy, or outright suspicious. Nathaner’s, which they’d particularly wanted to look over, had barely spared them two words. The only bright point was a smaller workshop called Gretcher’s, where they were given a cool drink while Eleri haggled her way down to almost all the money she carried in exchange for an extensive fine tool set.

“You drive a hard bargain, young dama,” the workshop foreman said. “I’m making you a gift here, but it’s better than them gathering dust, I confess.”

“I’m glad you can spare them,” Eleri said, buckling shut the last of the packs.

“We don’t have anyone who does the miniature work any more,” the man said sadly. “True automatons have become a luxury. It’s all ugly little boxes on wheels these days, with no thought to artistry.”

“Not everywhere,” Eleri said, with all the determination of the future she had mapped out for herself.

They waved the man goodbye and shouldered their packs. “Enough for the day,” Eluned said firmly.

“Let’s take a taxi back,” Griff said.

“Don’t have the money,” Eleri told him.

“Aunt could pay when we got there.”

“Mightn’t be home.”

“You did keep enough for the bus, right?” Eluned asked.

Eleri only had a few coins left, and they counted them doubtfully, then decided they would take a bus as far as they could go, and hope that wouldn’t leave too much walking at the end.

“What will we do tomorrow, then?” Griff asked, as they trailed back toward the nearest main road.

“See if the Aunt’s right about that automaton,” Eleri said.

“You think it’s really a person?” Eluned asked. “How are we—?”

Griff, a few steps ahead, stopped abruptly and Eluned had to sidestep to avoid smacking into him.

“Look,” he said.

Eluned studied the scene ahead, trying to work out what had caught his interest. Two growlers were drawn up in front of one of the buildings, and various boxes were being briskly loaded. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about that.

“Roof.”

Following Eleri’s direction, Eluned spotted two cats on the roof opposite the growlers. They were entirely ordinary-looking cats: a fat ginger and a moth-eaten tabby, but their unwavering stares did remind Eluned of a row of ravens. Though cats often looked like that.

“You think they’re being controlled? They’re probably just cats.”

“Except, see the name by the doors?” Griff said.

Ficus Lapis. The company that had been contracted to provide digging automatons and engineers to the Prytennian Underground Rail Project.

“Tiny sign,” Eleri said. “Low key.”

“They look like they’re moving out.” Griff was bouncing on his heels now, excited, but he remembered to keep his voice low as he added: “They’re making a run for it! I bet they’re the ones who wanted to buy back the fulgite. They probably sold it accidentally in the first place.”

This almost made sense. Eluned exchanged a glance with Eleri, remembering Aunt Arianne’s warnings about danger.

“Ask about the parts we’re looking for,” Eleri said. “Keep our eyes open. Leave.”

Eluned weighed their choices. They couldn’t try to follow the growlers—not with less money than bus fare. They could find the nearest policeman and make a very likely ineffectual fuss. They could assume that Prytennia’s investigators knew perfectly well what was going on—or that the cats on the roof really were controlled by the Huntresses—and leave keeping an eye on the growlers to professionals rather than exposing themselves to danger. Not that a glance in the door should be all that dangerous.

The sheer, frustrated desire to do something finally decided her. It was time they contributed, instead of putting all the risk on Aunt Arianne.

“Let’s go.”

There were a few casual glances as they marched confidently up to the wide-open entrance to Ficus Lapis’ workshop, but no particular interest or suggestion of threat. No-one tried to stop them as they slipped past the growlers, and a single look confirmed that the place was indeed being emptied out. Eleri homed in on a weathered little man who was watching proceedings, and began as usual by indicating Eluned’s arm, and asking about fine machine tools, and the availability of parts.

They’d been lucky in their choice. Although the man’s Prytennian was only functional, he was very interested in Eluned’s arm, and particularly in Eleri’s plans for a replacement, and Eluned and Griff had plenty of opportunity to make full use of eyes and ears as the discussion became deeply technical.

Most of the things being taken out looked to be exactly what you’d expect for a workshop that dealt with industrial automatons. Tools. Massive gears. Tubs of grease. But every so often out would be wheeled a middle-sized crate, very stoutly made and so heavy that four men together were needed to lift it into the growler.

They were being quite open about it though, treating the boxes as heavy, but making no attempt to hide them. Eluned squinted through the trees, then slowly recognised what she was doing.

The trees had been there all along, even if she had only just noticed them. The Great Forest, always with her, but suddenly pressing down. Why? What had changed?

Eluned barely had time for the stone sinking realisation that Griff had pulled another of his vanishing acts when he was hauled into view by a sternly handsome woman who had his ear in one hand and a cane in the other. She walked with difficulty, each step obviously painful, but that did not slow her as she called for the attention of the men loading the truck.

Reaching Griff a few beats before the men did, Eluned and Eleri stood firm, though there were now a half-dozen people looming over them and nothing felt safe at all. The woman said something angrily, but it was in a language Eluned didn’t recognise, and the woman didn’t even seem interested in listening to what Eleri was trying to say to her, but instead was addressing an older man coming out of a different room, his progress halting.

He said something back to her in the same language, point clear whatever the words, and Eluned flinched at the heavy hand that grabbed her left arm. She muttered: “Go low and run,” to Griff, preparing to hit out with her right arm in the hopes that surprise could win them free.

“Enough, enough!” said a new voice, and the crowd around Eluned parted to allow a man through. It was Aunt Arianne’s friend Felix, who had obviously not left the country at all.

“What a display,” he said, in very clearly enunciated Latin. “Practically brawling in the streets. What will our clients think of Ficus Lapis, to have this uproar over a curious child?”

The woman said something back to him, again quite incomprehensibly, as Felix rested one hand on Griff’s head, and the other on Eluned’s back—a gesture that she did not know whether to regard as support.

“But there is nothing to see, no secrets to fall across,” Felix replied, still in Latin. “You yourself told me that not an hour ago. Why must we then have dramas, and risk bringing Ficus Lapis’ name into disrepute?” He was now addressing the man who seemed to be in charge.

The older man dropped his chin, and Felix seemed to take this as agreement, steering Griff, Eleri and Eluned through the crowd and toward the street. No-one moved to stop them, or argue, but Eluned did not let her breath out until they were past the growlers, and nothing stood between them and safety.