Chapter 23
In which coats are disguised
Guile is preferable to violence.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Perry held up a grey stone: round, smooth, and unremarkable.
“A rock?” said Marigold dubiously. “You’re going to throw a rock at Drumpy? He is not Humpty-Dumpty.”
“It’s not just a rock,” explained Perry, with some annoyance. “It’s a shatterstone. We found a bag of them on Sark. They’re imbued with Impact and explode with great force. This little pebble should be able to blow up a prison wall easily.” Carefully, he placed it on the mantelpiece.
Judith drew a breath. “We can break Dacian out of his cell!”
“Whoa, wait a minute!” Marigold put her hands up.
“I can’t believe I’m the voice of reason here, but are you suggesting we blow up a part of Fort Pendennis?
Are you mad? Do you want to lose your mind, and your power too, Judith, like Dacian?
Because that is what the Custos will do, if they catch you at it. ”
Judith lowered her gaze. She could not say that with Dacian wrenched from her, it would be almost preferable to forget. Anyway, that would be a lie. She could not allow her spirit to be broken. She had her children to care for, Robert, the castle—even Marigold, if she would stay.
“No,” she admitted. “But how will they know it is me, if I blow up a wall? Drumpellier will not suspect a dignified matron, and even if he does, recall that it is an Impacting spell. We can say that it was Dacian. Perhaps in his confused state, wild and not himself, he allowed his power to explode. That would only be Drumpellier’s fault. ”
Marigold looked unimpressed. “Well, I think it better if we just use Mr Avely to Travel inside the cell, snatch the duke up, and return. Why do we need to throw bombs around?”
“It would be fun.” Perry grinned. “But I take your point. Why don’t you draw me the duke’s cell, Mother, and I can try Travelling there?”
“Because we haven’t seen his new quarters,” said Judith. “They’ve moved him again, or so Yvette told Marigold. We need to find Yvette again, and hope that she can tell us where he is now.”
Marigold’s nose wrinkled. “If she’s still hanging about.”
“Who’s Yvette?” demanded Perry. “Another bat?”
“Yes, and she has been invaluable,” said Judith. “She carried my letter to the duke, and I have high hopes that she continues to watch over him and Wooten.”
“Wooten? Who’s that now?”
“Yet another bat,” said Marigold, her bare shoulders showing as her handkerchief sagged. “You’ll probably like him. He’s quite particular about clothing.”
“As he should be.” Pointedly, Perry looked away. “Right, then, it sounds like we have an army of bats on our side.”
Marigold cleared her throat. “Wooten is a man down, actually. He drank the Lethe and fainted. He might have recovered by now, but we cannot count on it. I’ll come, though.”
Perry did not look thrilled at the prospect, and he was starting to argue about the potential use of the shatterstone again when there was a tap at the drawing room door.
“Yes?” called Judith. Could that be Mrs Ulrich, back already from her investigation of the cliff-face?
But it was Miss Onslow herself who came through the door, her expression alight with curiosity. And she dragged in Robert at her side, firmly tucked into her arm.
His expression was extremely reluctant.
“Oh!” cried Miss Onslow. “You succeeded in your quest, Miss Cultor! How wonderful.” She hesitated at their rather blank reception.
“We were in the library, but the baron wandered in from his stargazing. He was asking all sorts of questions, so we thought it best to leave him. Then we heard voices in the drawing room! We could not resist coming to see if Marigold had succeeded.”
Marigold preened a little, but Judith frowned. The baron was rather underfoot lately. She was tempted to lock him in his room, to keep him out the way.
Miss Onslow ducked a curtsy, glowing at Perry. “You must be Mr Peregrine Avely! I am so glad to meet you!”
Perry nodded, rather taken aback.
Judith, through force of habit—and being forced by Miss Onslow’s misconduct—uttered an introduction. “This is Miss Sophia Onslow, a Memor who is cataloguing the castle’s library. Miss Onslow, my son.”
Perry managed a perfunctory bow, then his eyes moved on to Robert. Robert stood like a statue, pinned next to Miss Onslow, his face blank.
“And who’s this?” asked Perry.
Judith floundered wordlessly. “Ah…”
Miss Onslow laughed. “Surely you must remember your own cousin? It’s Robert, of course.”
Perry stared. “My cousin? I can’t remember any cousin by name of Robert.”
“Ahem,” said Judith desperately. “On your father’s side. Um, Uncle Gerald’s son.”
Gerald had been her husband Nicholas’s youngest brother, and a bit of a dissolute rake. He had (handily) died the year before from heart failure. Judith hoped that a proper respect for mourning would dispel further questions, but in fact landing on Gerald had another effect.
Perry widened his eyes in sudden understanding. “Oh! I see! One of Gerald’s by-blows, are you?” He thrust out a hand to shake Robert’s. “A nice surprise, to have a new cousin emerge from the woodwork!”
Robert took it awkwardly. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “Indeed.”
Miss Onslow dropped her hand from Robert’s arm and took a step back, her eyes darting from one boy to the other. Robert’s jaw tightened, but he did not look at her. He was appraising Perry with a narrowed gaze.
Perry chuckled. “Uncle Gerry was always a bit of a rake and troublemaker. Are you like him, then?”
“Er, no.” Robert’s eyes slid to Judith, and he seemed to take some satisfaction in her expression. “I don’t believe so.”
“More’s the pity,” said Perry. “My father was a noble sort, which is a bore, you know, trying to live up to it all the time.”
Judith’s innards twisted in mortification. Perry did not know that his ‘noble’ father had sired the illegitimate son before him. Hastily, she waved her hands, desperate to change the subject.
“Well!” she said brightly. “Perry is here, yet now he must depart again! Are you ready to try the ring, Perry?”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Perry. “Hand it over. Let’s trot it out.”
Judith shook her head but dropped the ring into his palm. “Just be careful, won’t you? Reconnoitre only. No foolish risks.”
“Seems to me, Mother, that you have only one leg to stand on, and it is wobbling,” said Perry. Then he slipped the ring on his finger, twisted it, and vanished.
There was sudden silence in the drawing room.
Robert stared at the empty space. “He didn’t even say Veho.”
“He doesn’t need to; it’s his own Gift.” Judith suddenly felt a bit overwrought, seeing Perry disappear into thin air.
Had she really just sent her son into an enemy military fort?
What had she been thinking? Perry would do something foolish, and be shot, and then she would never see him again, and…
Robert stepped up to her and grasped one of her shoulders with a firm shake. “He’ll be back. Give him at least five minutes before you start panicking.”
She took a deep breath and turned her eyes to the clock next to the shatterstone. “Yes, you’re right. Five minutes, then I panic.”
It was ten minutes before Perry returned.
By then Judith was pacing, wringing her hands.
She was not even able to curse out loud, for Miss Onslow sat primly on one of the settees, her own hands folded neatly.
Judith wished the stupid girl would just go away.
She didn’t need strangers lurking around in this time of family crisis—except that Robert was sitting next to Miss Onslow and he seemed happy to have her there.
They were quietly talking. At least Miss Onslow wasn’t giving Robert the cut direct, now that she knew he was illegitimate.
The atmosphere of high tension must be serving to undermine the usual rules of society.
Marigold, who never had much regard for society, was reclining on the mantlepiece with an unseemly amount of leg showing beneath her lavender silk kerchief.
Really, Judith must sew her a new gown as soon as possible.
At least, she was pleased to note, the mantlepiece had been dusted now that Mrs Ulrich was finally playing her part.
Though what use was a clean mantlepiece if one’s son disappeared forever?
When Perry reappeared, Judith almost fell upon him.
“Thank God,” she said fervently, clasping his hands. “I’ve changed my mind: Perry, you can’t go back in there ever again.”
Perry blinked around at them. “Nonsense, Mother, I’m going back in ten minutes. One of your bats caught me.”
Judith fell back a step. “Who? Which one?”
“Miss Belfleur, apparently. Black-haired little Frenchy.”
“Of course.” Judith sagged in relief. “Sensible girl, to suspect I might show up in that tower again. I wonder if Dacian told her to keep a look out for me.”
“Hmm,” said Marigold, twitching her handkerchief.
“Yes, well,” said Perry, “The delightful Miss Belfleur leapt into my hair and hissed at me to duck behind the table, which I did. Then she almost ripped my ear off, until I explained why I was there, and that you sent me, Mother. Then she announced that she would fetch another bat—Wooten, I believe?—for me to take back. She flapped off again, leaving me crouched behind the desk.”
Judith looked at his empty hands. “But you haven’t got Wooten.”
“No. I crept out from the desk and tiptoed over to the windows, like you told me. Got a good eyeful of the courtyards below, and the barracks. I was committing it to memory, when I heard footsteps on the stairs.”
Miss Onslow gasped.
Perry glanced at her. “So, I thought it best to disappear for a bit, and here I am. But I need to go back to fetch this Wooten fellow. From what Miss Belfleur told me, he’s in a bit of a bad way.”
Judith gnawed on her lip. Of course they must help Wooten—poor, brave Wooten—but she didn’t have to like it. “You heard footsteps! There might be someone in the tower now!”