Андреа Хёст - The Pyramids of London

And she had even known mother a little, and was made thoroughly indignant by the possibility that she had been murdered—for they ended up telling her what Aunt Arianne called ‘All The Truth But The Dangerous Bits’, where they left out the artificial fulgite and the adapted mannequin, and presented themselves as convinced there were strange going-ons afoot, but were most certainly not in active pursuit of them.

“What then, young man, did you see in your wanderings through Ficus Lapis?” Minister Trevelyan asked, when they had, via many tangents and asides, explained how their quest for cheap tools and fine automaton components had led them to the Roman workshop. “What was this secret that a reputable firm was so very keen to hide that it has left all of London pointing at the sky?”

“Chicken wire,” Griff said.

“Seriously?” Li Zhi, who had been following the story with avid interest, couldn’t hide his disbelief. “They sent something god-touched after you, brought down the Burning Circle, annoyed Sulis enough that she sent a greater—that was Ah-ah, you know—a greater triskelion that hasn’t shown itself since the end of the French Occupation. Over chicken wire ?”

“I think maybe whatever they were hiding had been cleared out by then.” Griff was clearly enjoying their reaction. “It was one of those rooms with the really thick, well-fitted doors, and no windows—you know, designed so the Night Breezes can’t get in. They’d been carrying crates out, but when I looked there were only some empty tables, and a few rolls of chicken wire in a corner. A stack of newspaper, and nothing else. Then the lady with the sore feet grabbed me.”

“Indeed.” Lady Trevelyan ran a hand absently through her short-cropped dark hair. “I suppose they were worried you had seen something they had missed. And, of course, if this man Felix hadn’t warned you, you would have been walking along unsuspecting.”

“Waiting for a bus,” Eleri said, with a glance at Eluned that agreed not to mention god-bound certainties.

“In that area, there’s a good chance that no-one would even have noticed three children vanishing. Pulled underground with barely a chance to cry out.” Lady Trevelyan tsked. “They sent a large power to do something small. And now will pay a vast price for their over-caution.”

At this point the ‘representative’ of the palace arrived in the form of Princess Leodhild, along with Aunt Arianne—fetched by Li Sen and Li Zhi’s mother—and everything had to be explained all over again, while Eleri drew pictures of the people they had seen.

“Not without precedent,” Princess Leodhild said, after Eluned had rambled back to the same conclusion. “Triskelion have very occasionally responded without the direction of the Sulevia Leoth—usually when something has drawn the attention of Sulis herself. Not that it’s impossible that Dimity heard her own name called, but for Ah-Ah to appear….Sulis is very angry indeed.”

There was a wry twist to her mouth, perhaps because the last time Sulis had been stirred to anger had been during the Three Sisters’ War, the unprecedented dispute over Prytennia’s throne that had ended very abruptly with Sulis killing all three Suleviae, leaving Prytennia exposed to an invasion from France.

“Still, we seem to be making progress at last, and I thank you younglings for that, though share your aunt’s winces. I shall go see what our Romans have left behind, and will speak to you later, Dama Seaforth. You wanted, incidentally Aranxta, to get your hands on the person who ‘drew all over’ your flier plans. Here she is, most convenient.”

With an amused nod at Eleri, Princess Leodhild left.

“Oh indeed?” Lady Trevelyan studied a suddenly scarlet Eleri. “Quite a breach in etiquette, you know.”

“I—I beg your pardon, Lady Trevelyan,” Eleri said.

“The proper procedure, setting aside the error of examining unpublished plans in the first place, would be to open correspondence with the designer. At which point a response might have let you know that we had considered that option, and discarded it—for reasons that can be touched on when you are not recovering from distracting excitements. At a later date, perhaps you would enjoy a tour of the workshops here.”

“Very much, thank you.”

Leaving Li Sen and Li Zhi to discuss the coursers, they climbed thankfully into the tiger brought by the pair’s mother. This lady’s name was Lu Lan Ying, and she was Mama Lu’s middle daughter, and had taken up a managing role in Nathaner’s Workshop nearly ten years ago. She didn’t feel it would be a big problem that the coursers were currently being examined with great interest by people at the Ministry workshop, since Nathaner’s was already geared up to produce them. The whole drama of the day might even prove to be a useful advertisement, since the whole of London would most certainly be talking about dramatic dashes for safety before the day was out.

Sitting in the seat behind Aunt Arianne and Dama Lu, Eluned was impressed at how naturally Aunt Arianne could ask all these questions without sounding like she was rudely prying at all, and then manage to insist on a generous payment despite Dama Lu’s polite demurrals. Eluned knew she would never be able to make that conversation anything but graceless, just as sometimes only her eternally heavy glass shield allowed her to keep her composure, while Aunt Arianne floated through awkwardness so effortlessly.

Most particularly, Aunt Arianne so rarely let slip what she was really thinking and feeling. It wasn’t until they were inside that Eluned was even sure she wasn’t angry, when Aunt Arianne, resting the back of her hand on Griff’s forehead, said:

“I think your punishment will be a few days in bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he said immediately.

“Well, that will make it feel more like a punishment then,” Aunt Arianne said, looking amused. “Do we need to stop by Hurlstone before you drag your feet reluctantly upstairs?”

Griff pulled a face, but then dug in his pocket and produced a ball of chicken wire, which he silently held out to Aunt Arianne. Eyebrows lifting, she took it from him, examined the shape, and then picked it apart to reveal a crumpled but precisely moulded hand.

A walk through the fringes of the Great Forest helped Rian enormously in regaining her centre. It had been an altogether difficult day, beginning with a shameful near-argument with a grieving child, and then a parade of visitors interrupting her attempts to catch up on sleep.

Dama Lu’s arrival, and the tense journey to the airfield, had left her berating herself for the decisions she’d made moderating the children’s desire for an active role in this hunt. She had thought visiting workshops a relatively safe pursuit, and could not have been more wrong.

Felix had spared her the worst, a favour she would remember, whatever his involvement in this tangle. She allowed herself to accept good fortune and move on, just as it was best to simply recognise that she had misjudged Lyle and Lynsey Blair, rather than castigate herself for starting to like them.

Two things, however, were not so easily settled, and Rian had to resort to a long bath after dinner to tackle the hurdles that had woken her over and over, and then kept her from sleep.

Time should surely make the fear fade. Weeks or months would take the teeth from two words, and return them to being a well-known phrase with no power to make her tremble. Until then, she would simply have to gird herself against memory whenever she was around Makepeace. Nearly dying didn’t seem to be something she could shrug off.

The other problem might take even longer to shift, because Rian was suffering from a bad case of ‘Why not?’.