Labyrinth Gate (7 page)

“A griffin!” said Sanjay triumphantly. “That’s what it was.” There was a brief silence while the other three merely gazed at him. “On top of the carriage.” He hesitated. “That’s what the creature sitting on top of the carriage was.” Another pause. “A griffin.”

No one replied.

“But you must have—” He faltered. “Chryse, even you couldn’t have failed to notice something that
big.”

“Sanjay,” she said quietly. “I didn’t see anything on top of that carriage.”

“Lady bless us,” muttered Kate.

“Did
you
see it?” Sanjay asked, very tentative now.

“I don’t have that kind of sight,” said Kate.

Chryse realized, watching Kate and Julian, that, like her, they had seen nothing, but that, unlike her, they both believed and were impressed by Sanjay’s vision.

“You don’t suppose it was the Regent herself?” Julian leaned forward and pushed the window shutter open slowly, but any sight of the black carriage was lost to a turn in the street.

“I doubt it,” said Kate. “It seems to me that if she were going somewhere secretly she’d use neither the bays nor one of her own carriages, and if she were going openly, she’d go in more state.”

“Then there must be something valuable in that carriage, or she wouldn’t have protected it in
that
way.” Julian fingered the buttons on his waistcoat. “I wonder—” he mused. “It could be headed Westside, or across the Tens—”

“Or there’s the toll road for the Midlands, past Keep Bridge,” said Kate.

“Sanjay,” said Chryse, almost accusing. “You really did see something on top of that carriage, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. “You never believe me. Let me see the cards a minute.”

She handed them to him mutely. As he flipped through them, examining both sides, she regarded Julian and Kate skeptically. “And you believe him,” she finished.

“Why shouldn’t we believe him?” asked Kate, now regarding Chryse with the disbelief that Chryse felt should be reserved for Sanjay. “Neither of you told us Monsieur Mukerji is a seer.”

“A seer!”

Sanjay, still flipping through the cards, grinned at the tone of his wife’s voice. “You never appreciate me,” he said, not looking up from the images.

“He isn’t a seer.”

Kate shrugged.

“This one.” Sanjay handed a card to Kate, who looked at it together with Julian. Chryse craned forward to look as well.

Julian whistled.

“Whatever is in that carriage must be very valuable,” added Kate, “if she’s protecting it with a summoning of this power.”

“It was as big as one of the horses,” said Sanjay, speaking now mostly to Chryse. “With gold headfeathers and a gold beak, and golden wings folded in on its back. And it was crouched, like a lion waiting to spring. And brilliant eyes.”

“It
saw
you?” asked Julian.

Sanjay blinked. “That’s funny,” he said. “Of course it saw me. It seemed natural that it would look at me since I was looking at it.”

“Weren’t you scared?” asked Kate.

“No. Should I have been? We just looked at each other.”

Julian whistled again, shaking his head.

“What’s the figure on the other side?” asked Chryse, taking the card from an unresisting Kate and examining first the stylized beast on one side, then the person backing it.

“The Emperor,” answered Kate automatically. “Seated on his throne. The most powerful of the kings, but also the most conservative.”

“But my real question,” said Chryse, frowning first at the card and then lifting her eyes to examine her husband, “is why could you see this, and we couldn’t? Since I have no reason to believe you’re kidding me.”

“I’m not, sweetheart. And I have absolutely no idea. It was there.”

Three quick raps sounded on the roof of the carriage. All four started. Julian laughed self-consciously.

“Coachman needs your directions, Kate. You’d better get up with him.”

Kate got out, and now they watched as the streets around them took on an even poorer cast. The inhabitants stared at the carriage. Children, some of their faces imprinted with features not wholly human, raced along behind and beside it. Kate’s voice could be heard now and then, sometimes cursing, sometimes directing. They passed through a square, a dilapidated, moss-encrusted fountain gracing its center, a mass of indeterminate litter strewn across it as though a tearing wind had swept through. Julian leaned forward.

“We must be coming close,” he said as the carriage veered sharply down a narrow street.

“There!” said Chryse after a few minutes. “This must be—” The carriage pulled up sharply, throwing her forward. Julian caught her, one hand on her shoulder, one hand on her waist, and after a brief pause, she pulled away from him. “‘Master Bitterbrew’s,” she finished, reaching out to touch Sanjay’s arm. “I remember the name. We came out of the alley somewhere here.”

The carriage door opened to reveal Kate. Several children crouched a safe distance away from her, eyeing these unfamiliar visitors.

“Goblinside.” Kate swept an elaborate bow. “At your service.” As the other three clambered out she tossed a coin to the largest of the waiting children, a hollow-faced girl. “Another if you keep good watch,” she said.

They were greeted with passing stares, but no one accosted them. It was the same mix of folk they had seen the night before—but in the daylight the shabbiness of their dress and the gauntness of their faces showed more clearly. A child stood huddled against a lamp post; with a strange feeling of familiarity in a land completely removed from her own, Chryse recognized the skewed cap and pointed face of the child who had stood there last night. Two bright eyes met her own across the narrow expanse of street. A cart blocked her view. When it had paused, the child was gone.

“Madame.” Julian offered Chryse his arm. She looked around to see that Sanjay and Kate were already wandering up the street, peering into dark openings.

But they could find no alleyway, no narrow corridor between the close buildings that would lead to an old, rickety door hiding behind it a cathedral that could not possibly be disguised amongst these tenements. They found alleys, certainly, but much too far in either direction from those few landmarks Chryse and Sanjay recalled and Julian and Kate could second.

At last they found themselves back across the street from Master Bitterbrew’s and Mistress Penty’s and the solitary lamppost.

“There,” said Chryse with a sudden decisiveness that caused her companions to look first at her and then to follow her fixed gaze. “There’s that child again. I know he was there last night.” She stepped out onto the street.

“Chryse—”

The child’s brilliant eyes fixed on hers. Chryse slipped around a wagon and pony and came up beside the lamppost. Crouching, her slender skirts caught and curled under her bent legs.

The child stood no higher than she crouched. This close, the unnatural shine of its eyes gave it a feral look, but one compounded by a child’s intelligence. It was not a human face, yet neither animal—the mouth and nose came forward snoutlike, but above the tufting of fur that arched over dark eyes rose a high, broad forehead.

“I know where you be looking for.” The child regarded Chryse with a street-urchin’s calculation. “But I got to have coin ’fore I tell.”

Chryse looked up. Sanjay had arrived, both concerned and wondering. Behind him stood Julian.

“Do you have a penny?” Chryse asked Julian. His eyebrows rose, surprise.

“Tuppence,” squeaked the child.

Julian chuckled, fished in a pocket, and brought out a silver coin.

The child’s mouth—or was it snout—wrinkled up in an almost doglike fashion. “Lady!” it swore. A tiny hand, four-fingered with the suggestion of claws, grabbed the coin out of Chryse’s hand. “You be looking for St. Crist’bell. But she’s gone now. You can’t get back in there.”

“Where has she gone?” asked Chryse.

The child shrugged. Its eyes left off scrutinizing Chryse’s yellow hair for a moment to squint at the silver in its hand. It hissed something inaudible, looked up again. “You only come out o’ St. Cee’s,” it said. Chryse wondered abruptly whether it was a boy or a girl, or as indeterminate as it seemed. “You can’t go back in, not by that gate.” The bright gaze shifted from Chryse to her companions, quick and measuring. With the speed given hunted animals, the child darted suddenly away and before Chryse could do more than call out in surprise and rise, it had vanished in the constant flow of traffic.

Two women brushed by them. Chryse felt Sanjay’s hand on her back, a warm, comforting presence. She turned.

“Did you hear what the child said?” she asked.

He nodded. His face was grave. Behind, Julian and Kate reappeared from the direction in which the child had run. They were alone.

Sanjay’s face was still, hiding his feelings, but Chryse’s eyes held the brilliance that presaged tears. She sniffed and made a disparaging face.

“Look at me—this won’t get us anywhere,” she said. “I guess we’re left with Madame Sosostris.”

“We should have gone back that night,” said Sanjay in a fierce undertone.

“How could we have?” she replied. “We did look for it. We can’t blame ourselves.”

For a moment he said nothing. “At least we have two weeks,” he said at last, quiet. “Come on.” He took her hand and looked at Julian and Kate. “Shall we go back?”

No one spoke much on the return trip, although Kate pointed out a few more sights.

Aunt Laetitia greeted them at the entryway to Vole House and directed them into the parlour. Tea and warm cakes awaited them on the sidetable.

“I see,” said Aunt Laetitia once a decent interval had passed for them to warm themselves and drink and eat, “that your expedition met with little success. I have better news.”

Chryse and Sanjay both looked up.

“Usually Madame Sosostris only grants appointments months in advance,” continued Aunt Laetitia, looking pleased by the hopeful and attentive expressions on her guests’ faces. “But in this case, she writes that seeing the importance of a visit connected with such a rare deck, and given the delicate and urgent nature of the request, she has agreed to see you in only five weeks.” She smiled, benignly aware of their great good fortune.

“Five weeks!” cried Chryse. “We can’t possibly wait that long.” She turned to Sanjay, grasped his hands. “They’ll think we’re dead.”

“Surely if we went to this woman’s house she would agree to see us right away,” said Sanjay.

Aunt Laetitia frowned. “It would not do to offend her. Indeed not. No, you have been given every consideration. You must not ask too much or she won’t see you at all.”

“But then—” Chryse began. “You mentioned some others.” She met Kate’s sympathetic but unhopeful eye, and gave a little laugh. “No, I don’t suppose the earl would be a good choice.”

“And frankly,” added Kate, “you can’t possibly get an audience to see the Regent. She isn’t very—ah—open to petitions. It would be easier, in a manner of speaking, to see the heir, but she can’t help you.”

“Wasn’t there another one? Anyone else?” Chryse asked, feeling now as if she were grasping at straws.

“Chryse,” said Sanjay softly. “Maybe we’re just stuck.”

“I know,” she said, lowering her voice to match his, “but we’ve got to make sure we’ve tried every avenue. Otherwise we’ll keep feeling as if we might have done more.”

“There are other mages, to be sure,” said Aunt Laetitia. “But none others of sufficient power who live in or near Heffield.”

“If you meant Master Cardspinner,” said Kate, “I’m afraid that that was a bit of a joke. And in any case, he’s left town, as I found out last night.”

For a long moment Chryse and Sanjay simply gazed at each other. The others turned their attention elsewhere. Finally Sanjay shrugged and Chryse gave him a rueful smile and released his hands.

“It seems Madame Sosostris is the only choice left,” said Sanjay.

“But we haven’t any money,” Chryse said to him. “Or suitable clothing. Or a place to stay. How can we wait five weeks?”

There was a moment of silence. Aunt Laetitia regarded first Kate and then Julian. “Yours are reasonable concerns, Madame Lissagaray,” she replied finally. “But it appears to me that the matter of clothing has already been settled. And as chatelaine of my
bachelor
nephew’s establishment, I see no reason why you cannot continue to stay with us. It must be obvious to you both that we have ample room and staff and little enough occupation.”

“But we couldn’t impose—” began Sanjay.

“Why not?” said Kate. “I do.” She laughed at his stricken expression. “Don’t worry about insulting me,” she continued. “My parents disinherited me years ago in favor of my cousin Miranda. I’ve lived on my wits and charm and my aptitude for gambling ever since. But mostly on Julian’s charity.”

“Yes, and a damned nuisance you are, too,” said Julian, helping himself to a biscuit from the tea tray. “And have been since I’ve known you.”

“Which since we were born only five days and two miles apart has been a bloody long time.”

“And in any case,” added Julian, looking now at Sanjay, “I think I may have a solution, if it is acceptable to you. My acquaintance Professor Farr needs a secretary, as I mentioned before. He could employ you, and you could continue to stay at Vole House.”

“Of course,” said Aunt Laetitia. “That will serve very well.”

“But what am I to do?” asked Chryse. “I suppose I could take in sewing.”

“Certainly not. No gentlewoman would stoop to such an occupation.”

Chryse shrugged. “There must be a school of music in this city. I can teach piano, voice, and recorder, and perform.”

Aunt Laetitia raised one finger. “A gentlewoman may perform for the pleasure of others, but never for money. She may, however, teach—there is no shame in instruction. And there is a pleasant and neglected music room here. You will of course teach privately. I will tell my wide acquaintance that you are a noted musician from Vesputia who is willing in her short stay here to accept a few select students. That should be enough to send them thundering to your door. But both of you must realize—” Here she examined them with a stern glance. “—that although you will be treated as family in this house, the fact that you are employed for pay means you will not be able to go out in society.”