Paul Witcover - The Emperor of all Things

‘I would be a fool to deny it,’ Longinus said. ‘Still, I will go regardless. Are you with me, Mr Quare? You have misgivings, it is plain. That is understandable. But if you mean to withdraw, do it now. If that is your decision, I will respect it – though I confess I would think less of you.’

‘I will go,’ he answered, feeling again the iron compulsion laid upon him by Tiamat. ‘I have no choice.’

‘Good man.’ Longinus grinned. ‘Master Magnus would be proud.’

Quare knew better, but could say nothing.

After they had dressed – Longinus transferring from his old clothes to his new ones the array of timepieces he always carried, and supplying Quare with ten watches he had brought for that specific purpose; shirt, breeches and boots all had pockets sewn to hold them – the two men regarded themselves in a full-length mirror.

‘Why, we are as alike as two peas in a pod,’ Longinus exclaimed, delighted.

Indeed, with hoods raised and masking kerchiefs in place, the two Grimalkins reflected in the glass were indistinguishable. In height, there was not an inch of difference between them; in build, both were slender as whippets; the eyes that peered out beneath the hoods were the same ghostly greyish blue. Longinus had divested himself of his powder and beauty mark, so even the exposed skin of their faces was the same pale hue.

Faced with this resemblance, Quare experienced a sudden and shocking surmise. ‘Longinus,’ he said, then paused and removed his mask. He took a breath and began again. ‘Lord Wichcote … forgive me, but there is no discreet way to ask, and I must know. Are you my father?’

At this, Longinus removed his own mask. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You said yourself we are alike as two peas in a pod,’ Quare said.

‘But why should that make you think I might be your father?’ Longinus seemed baffled. ‘Many men resemble each other without there being a drop of blood between them.’

Quare could not keep a tremor of emotion from his voice. ‘Surely you must know that I am a bastard – it is no secret. All the guild knows. But Master Magnus once told me that my father was still alive. Indeed, he promised to help me find him if I agreed to become a regulator. Now I cannot help but wonder if that is why he sent me here, to you, for my first assignment. Why, before his death, he had planned to bring us together – you told me so yourself!’

‘That is true. But I am sorry, Mr Quare … Daniel. I would be proud to have such a son as you. And if somehow you were my son, and I had been in ignorance of your existence, I would make up for it by acknowledging you before the world, gladly and without hesitation. Yet the fact remains that I am not.’

‘How can you be certain?’

‘Do you recall what Corinna told me as we were making our escape from Märchen? She warned me to be careful of what I said, because words spoken in the Otherwhere had a way of coming true. And so it has proved. I swore to her that I would desire no other woman, and that is exactly what has come to pass. I am not your father, sir. I am no one’s father and shall never be. I am impotent, you see – and have been ever since my return from Märchen.’

Quare studied the man’s face, but there was no hint of anything there but sincerity. He swallowed his disappointment. ‘I am sorry, sir.’

‘I am sorry as well,’ Longinus said, still holding his gaze. He laid a gentle hand on Quare’s shoulder. ‘I meant what I said about being proud to have you as a son. Any man would be.’

‘Save for my father, apparently.’

‘In fairness, he may not know. I have no doubt that Magnus would have uncovered the truth, had he lived. But I am not without resources of my own. I will look into the matter, sir. I give you my word.’

Quare, unable to speak, nodded.

Longinus returned an encouraging smile and clapped him upon the shoulder. ‘Now, sir, let us arm ourselves.’

Longinus took a sword, a dagger and a crossbow, strapping the latter, with a brace of bolts, across his back. He took a handful of the silver stars, which he explained were for throwing, and the flute-like instrument with its collection of small, feathered darts; this, he said, was a blowpipe, a weapon he had come across in his travels. The darts were tipped with a poison that would swiftly paralyse their target. The throwing stars, blowpipe and darts he tucked into the underside of his cloak. Finally he took down a pair of pistols and slid them into holsters strapped to his thighs. These trim guns were unlike any Quare had seen before.

‘Another of Magnus’s inventions,’ Longinus said. ‘They require no priming and are always ready to fire, even in the most inclement weather.’

‘No primer? How, then, does the pistol discharge?’

‘The primer is already added, part of the projectile itself. What’s more, each pistol can fire four shots without reloading.’

‘Why aren’t His Majesty’s troops equipped with these weapons?’ Quare wondered. ‘They could turn the tide in the war.’

‘As to that, you must ask Mr Pitt. But I can hazard a guess. The problem with such innovations as this is that they represent a kind of Pandora’s box. If we were to make thousands of these guns, and equip our soldiers with them, it would not be long – perhaps even before the first shot was fired on a battlefield, for England is riddled with spies – before the enemy had learned of it, analysed the mechanism, and introduced an equivalent or even superior weapon. I believe, then – though I have no first-hand knowledge of it – that we are holding this and other, similar inventions in reserve, in case the French cross the Channel in force. I certainly hope that is the case. For if that should ever come to pass, we would be in desperate straits indeed.’

Turning to the table, Longinus filled a number of glass or clay containers with an assortment of powders and liquids, which he then slipped into small grey pouches and attached to his belt; here were smokescreens, bomblets, gases to burn the eyes and the lungs.

‘You seem prepared for any eventuality,’ Quare said, impressed.

‘One endeavours to anticipate,’ Longinus said. ‘But one invariably encounters the unexpected. No doubt that will be as true tonight as any other night, if not more so. I dare not supply you with any of my potions or powders, Mr Quare; you would be as likely to use them accidentally against us as against any enemy we may encounter. The same goes for my more exotic weapons. When we have sufficient time, I will train you in their use. But for tonight, you will carry only your sword, a dagger and a crossbow. And, if you like, one of Magnus’s pistols.’

‘I should like that very much. Only, I hope I shall have no cause to fire it.’

‘As do I. But if the need arises, do not hesitate. You will find the recoil somewhat more than you are used to, but the accuracy substantially improved.’

Once Quare was fitted out – this included pouches attached to his belt, each filled with another pocket watch, so that his appearance matched that of Longinus in every outward detail, at least upon casual examination – Longinus drew a close-fitting pair of grey silk gloves onto his hands, completing his transformation into Grimalkin, then presented another pair of gloves to Quare, who found them a tight squeeze but no impediment to his manual dexterity.

‘Now let us pay the Old Wolf a visit,’ Longinus said with a grin.

Quare nodded, his mouth dry.

Longinus returned to the full-length mirror, as if to inspect himself once more. He touched a corner of the frame, and the mirror swung open, revealing the small candlelit chamber of another stair-master.

‘Why, is there a room in your house that does not contain one of these devices?’ asked Quare.