Boy of Chaotic Making (Whimbrel House #3)

Chapter 24

March 8, 1847, London, England

With no more attacks upon the house and the grounds clear of revolutionaries, the tour of the Tower of London commenced immediately after breakfast the next morning, the group having traveled via the Leiningen family’s exquisite coaches rather than the fast but more public kinetic tram. Lady Helen started the tour herself as soon as they reached the river Thames. The boxy fortress came into view as they crossed Westminster Bridge.

Merritt whistled softly, pressing his temple to the window to get a better look. Owein sat beside him, while Hulda and Ladies Helen and Cora sat across from them. Prince Friedrich, Baron von Gayl, and Mr. Blightree were riding in a separate carriage. As promised earlier, Lady Briar had not come along on the tour, nor had she come down for breakfast.

Merritt had to admit that London had a sort of ancient dazzlement about it. Nothing in the States was as old or as regal as the things they passed, and he had a funny feeling they never would be. America was new and innovative, always looking to build quickly and expand, while England was a place that dug its roots deeper and deeper, so that nothing—a conqueror, a tsunami, an asteroid from space—could ever wipe it out.

“—Norman military architecture,” Lady Helen said with pride, as though she herself had commissioned the castle. “The other additions, there and there, were added in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.”

She explained more about the fortress, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, until the carriages pulled into an elaborate carriage house and servants in a livery Merritt didn’t recognize came to escort them out. There was a bit of a chill in the breeze, so Merritt buttoned his coat up to his chin, then offered his elbow to Hulda. Are you cold? he asked Owein.

I’m all right.

Lady Helen didn’t seem to feel the temperature as they approached the Tower of London—which was really several towers—whereas her daughter hunkered down in her cloak. There were quite a number of guards standing on and around the fortress, which the lady remarked upon only seconds after Merritt thought it. “We don’t plan on any wars anytime soon.” She chuckled. “But there are valuable things within, so the tower is protected. You’ll note a few men in blue—they are from the Queen’s League of Magicians. Owein, you would be eligible to join their ranks, once you secure a human form. They are very particular. Even my Cora can join when she’s eighteen, though she hasn’t shown a lick of interest in it. I can’t blame her. It’s not a very feminine occupation, though there are women in the ranks. Perhaps I would have joined had I not been married so young. Both Friedrich and the baron are members.”

“Not active,” Prince Friedrich said, hands clasped behind his back. He’d been in a quiet conversation with his son-in-law, but still caught his wife’s words. Lady Cora said nothing on the matter, merely walked in the back, taking in the sights with her large blue eyes. Owein dropped back to walk beside her.

“The moat was filled in just last year,” Lady Helen continued as they passed what Merritt assumed used to be the moat. There was a large number of armed men staring at them, which made him walk a little stiffly, but none stopped them; Lady Helen must have sent word ahead when she’d arranged all this. “There were issues with it, disease and other nonsense.” She swept the idea away with a flick of her wrist.

Dipping his head toward Hulda, Merritt whispered, “I wish I could dismiss disease with a swipe of my hand.”

She pinched his bicep. “Please behave yourself.”

He grinned at her, taking in the grand walls as they passed through them. Lady Helen pointed out the construction of barracks in the inner ward, but insisted they weren’t “important” and should be ignored, then launched into a long list of historical sieges upon the tower, occasionally corrected by her husband when she muddled the dates or, in one case, invented a siege that had never happened.

“There were no Spaniards,” Prince Friedrich insisted.

Lady Helen dismissed him just as she had the moat diseases. “I shall look it up when we return home. Really, Friedrich.” She scoffed, then dove into the imprisonment of Anne Boleyn.

“Perhaps,” Merritt said quietly to Hulda, “I should write a novel about Henry VIII.”

“Perhaps you should write something a little sunnier,” she suggested.

He glanced over his shoulder, checking on Owein and Cora, who followed close behind. It was unfortunate Cora didn’t have communion spells so the two could speak. But Cora caught his eye and smiled softly. “Is he saying something?”

Merritt looked at Owein.

Um, he started. The history is ... fascinating.

Merritt relayed it, and Cora gave a polite nod.

Inside the tower was surprisingly cold, but then again, it was composed mainly of stone, and it was early March in London. Lady Helen now detailed how the tower had morphed from a royal residence to a house of munitions. They approached an armory, also guarded, but they were allowed to peek in and act appropriately impressed. Merritt nodded to one of the guards, who made no effort in word or expression to reply. Lady Helen launched into a one-sided discussion of the English Civil War as they took the steps up, but Merritt found himself studying the walls, imagining the lives of the people who’d lived there long ago, and how maybe it would be interesting to write a story that took place in a castle. American Castle had an interesting ring to it, as a title.

Hulda’s pace slowed, and between their tour guide’s breaths, she asked, “Lady Helen ... have those shoes always been in your possession?”

Lady Helen paused and pulled her skirt back, revealing modest women’s shoes, deep maroon in appearance, with a slight heel. “Indeed, I bought them just last year. Why do you ask? Would you like a pair?”

Hulda pinched the inside of Merritt’s arm, which was how he recalled her telling him about a cluster vision she’d had during her sessions with Griffiths. One of them had involved a shoe of that color. Interesting, he thought.

“Oh yes,” Hulda lied, “but forgive my intrusion. Please continue.”

Lady Helen beamed and held up her hands to stop the rest of the procession. “Now, this is the really fascinating part. Up ahead are the Crown Jewels and the wizardry artifacts. I’ve been instructed to have us all walk single file and keep our hands behind our backs. But it really is such a treat that we get to walk this hall!”

The group did as instructed; Merritt let Hulda, Owein, and Lady Cora walk in front of him. He took up the back, and not surprisingly, an armed guard—this one in red, called a “yeoman”—tailed them. They passed an impressive array of jewelry that must be worth a fortune , then approached the coronation regalia, and the baron actually took over to explain how the different items were used in a royal coronation. The sovereign’s scepter was especially impressive, as was Saint Edward’s Crown, the frame of which was solid gold and adorned with semiprecious stones, “One for each doctrine of magic,” Baron von Gayl explained, “and then some.”

“Now, the wizardry artifacts.” Lady Helen faced forward, but Merritt could hear her smile. These Merritt paid close attention to, because before meeting the Druids, he hadn’t even known they existed. Hulda, too, seemed fascinated by the brief display, while Owein complained that he couldn’t see.

The first was a delicate tube, almost like a short, wide straw. It appeared to be made of glass, but Lady Helen reported it was neither glass nor crystal; no one knew what material composed it. Believed to be from the first generations of water elementists, the tube could be used by anyone to draw water from the surrounding air, so that it was always on hand. “You would never be thirsty,” she explained. “And the water would always be clean.”

The next was a little wooden bead, nondescript, about the size of a shilling. This was one of a number of beads—the rest lost to history—that the first conjurer had supposedly made to strip away the side effects of magic. Queen Victoria was believed to be personally in possession of a second, but that had never been confirmed.

The next was the largest piece of amethyst Merritt had ever laid eyes on, nearly the height of his forearm, with strange runes etched into its sides. This relic was connected to augury, and—again, supposedly—allowed an augurist to pick and choose what she saw. Hulda’s nose got very close to the glass on this one, enough to earn a stern coughing from the guard behind them.

“I don’t suppose we’re allowed to handle them?” she asked.

Lady Helen looked utterly crestfallen. “I’m afraid not. They’re quite potent, so I’ve been told. The spells we possess now are mere whispers of what the originators had at their disposal! I had to pull strings just for the tour.”

As they reached the last relic, Mr. Blightree took over as tour guide. “Lastly, this bottle is believed to have the power to hold souls. I’ve never been allowed to examine it myself, and there is reason for it. Any talisman with such power could be deadly in the wrong hands.”

Merritt swallowed, imagining what might have happened had Silas been able to trap his soul and Owein’s in that bottle instead of hauling their bodies to Marshfield. He would have made far quicker work of them.

He wondered if the Druids had anything like this, or if their stories had any truth to them. He doubted anyone would ever truly know the birth of magic, its hows and whys.

They came around a corner, where some historical armor—or pieces of it, anyway—were on display beneath magical lights. Lady Helen had to read a placard to detail any of it. They descended a narrow set of stone stairs, along which hung old portraits no longer wanted for display in the palace, namely paintings of long-forgotten dukes, duchesses, and the offhand cousin.

The air didn’t feel quite so cold when they stepped outside again. Merritt stretched his hands over his head, while Owein stretched his front paws before him. The sun was peeking out from between long clouds.

“Might be decent enough for a game of cricket today,” Baron von Gayl suggested. “What do you say?”

Prince Friedrich laughed. “With what team?”

“Surely you’ve some neighbors itching for exercise,” the baron countered. Their single-file line remerged into a group. Hulda’s arm looped through Merritt’s, and Lady Helen summoned Cora to come closer and whispered something in her ear.

“A last-minute cricket tournament?”

“Just for fun. Tournament is too serious,” the baron protested.

Hulda stopped walking, her grip tightening on Merritt’s elbow. He glanced at her, catching just the end of that blank look she got when her augury ignited. The way her face paled had his heart squelching.

“What did you see?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t another questionable glimpse of him. He’d spoken quietly, but the words had come right in a break of conversation, so the others heard and turned curious heads their way.

Hulda blinked. Looked at Merritt, then to Cora and Lady Helen. “I ... I’m not sure I should share ...”

Two delicate lines formed between Lady Helen’s brows. “You had a vision? Please tell.”

Hulda swallowed; Merritt placed his free hand on her shoulder for support. After a beat, she replied, “I saw Lady Cora. I saw something heavy falling on her, not unlike what happened in the breakfast room.”

Cora gasped. Owein licked her hand, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Mercy!” Lady Helen exclaimed at the same time Prince Friedrich replied, “Surely not!”

Hulda only managed a nod. “I’m afraid I’m not mistaken. It was Cora—I couldn’t tell where she was. It looked to be morning, perhaps. There wasn’t a lot of light around. I heard a cracking and saw her look up right as something—I’m sorry, I couldn’t decipher what—fell atop her.”

Cora asked, “C-Crushed?”

Dipping her head, Hulda answered, “I don’t know. It cut out too quickly. I’m not strong in soothsaying. I only see slivers of the future, really.”

“Could you summon it again?” asked the baron. “Hold on to it a little longer?”

She stiffened. “I ... I doubt it. I’m working with a professor to hone my ability, but—”

“We must get another augurist at once!” Lady Helen demanded. They were starting to earn the attention of the guards, likely wondering why they were carrying on in the bailey, but Lady Helen paid them no mind. “We must fetch Cousin Margaret. Surely she would be able to see it better!”

Prince Friedrich frowned. “Margie is on her honeymoon, dear. She’s somewhere in the islands of Italy right now.”

Tears began to well in Lady Helen’s eyes.

Lady Cora gripped fistfuls of her skirt. Then, expression tight with determination, she said, “Your professor, Miss Larkin. Is he adept in soothsaying?”

Merritt felt Hulda relax a fraction. “He is. More so than I am.”

Lady Helen sprang forward like a puppet stuffed with a new hand. “Then we will have him to the house as soon as possible.”

The glimpses Hulda had seen could not be changed, but if she didn’t see fit to point this out, neither would Merritt. Lady Helen was resolute and, at that moment, more terrifying than any general who’d earned the honor of having his armor displayed in the tower behind them. If nothing else, they might be able to see a closer look at when her vision would come to pass, so they could arrange to have someone like Blightree around for a quick healing. Though it might not be possible to change the future, one could certainly cushion it.

“We’ll contact him straightaway,” Merritt offered, and that seemed to quell the fire behind her countenance.

Needless to say, the ride home was a tense one, with few words spoken.