Tales of Tobermoerai, Chapter 7

[ailsa_chan]

After getting stuck on the plot for a while, here's chapter 7.


The cold weather broke soon after that and the increasingly grey slush was washed away by copious rainfall. The sudden extra water meant the river burst its banks in a number of places, washing over the church plaza and making several streets in the market district impassible.

If the city had appeared to be sleeping over winter, it woke up angry. The papers were full of stories of attacks, muggings, brawls. Another girl threw herself in front of a train, and the owner of a fabric mill had arrived one morning to see someone had broken in and spread buckets of animal blood over everything.

In the park the followers of Matthias Holt grew. Several skirmishes had to be broken up by the police who now kept a permanent presence near the gates, moving people on when the crowd grew too large. Many letters were written to the papers on this subject, either complaining about the being unable to listen or else protesting that the park no longer felt safe for gentle folk to enter.

There were complaints everywhere, including the house of the earl. Milo quickly picked up on the tone of the guests who came. While they tried to keep their grumbling to minimum during dinner they were not always completely successful. Milo was not permitted to join them in the earl's study after dinner but when he walked past the sound of raised voices wafted out with the smell of brandy.

From what he overheard, Milo could tell most of the complaints were about the king. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as if being simply present made him an accessory to treason. However the earl seemed to take no offence at their words and he was known to be a good friend of the king, so perhaps Milo was judging them too harshly. Indeed, instead of being offended by their words, the earl seemed positively energised by each visit.

He was spending more time at the palace lately as well, and outside of meals they rarely saw him. His wife, Lady Georgina, never spoke directly but it was clear she was unhappy with the situation. The guests were always men alone, never with their wives so she was left on the side. For a woman used to a busy social life, this was clearly unpleasant. He had expected Felicity to feel the same way, but she seemed closer in spirit to her father than her mother.

A side effect of this was that she no longer had as much time to spend with Milo. At first he did not notice, but as the weeks and months went by it became more obvious that other things were consuming her time. There were still the other friends he had made amongst Felicity's companions, but he felt conscious of the small amount of time they had known each other, and the fact he was living in someone else's home, so making requests for socialising felt uncomfortable.

One April morning found Milo alone and at a loss. Tobin had left before breakfast and Felicity had announced an urgent but non-descript appointment away from home. It had rained solidly for the last two days, but today the sun was out and everything seemed refreshed and verdant. Milo found himself walking in the grounds of the house. The gardens at the back were neat and formal, trim lawns and precisely laid out borders, but at the front, either side of the driveway they changed into a sort of faux woodland. Spindly beech competed with larger oak trees, while the ground was carpeted with bluebells and primroses.

Milo stopped and leant against a low branch. The oak tree it kitted out from was perfect for climbing, and in a short time he had pulled himself well above the ground. He leaned against the broad trunk and closed his eyes, remembering doing this as a child. He had always been the best climber; Tobin had always been too short to be effective, and Shana was a girl and girls did not belong in trees, everyone said so.

"Milo Whitlaw?"

A voice startled him from his daydreams, almost making him fall from the branch. He steadied himself and looked down at a figure in black standing at the base of the tree. At first he could not place where he knew her from, but suddenly it came back to him.

"You're the sorceress, from Blackwater," he said as he made his way down the tree. He dropped from the last branch clumsily and she watched as he struggled to regain his balance, wearing that same slightly mocking smile he remembered from the first time they had met.

"Well met," she replied, managing to make a simple greetings sound like an insult.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, then realised that sounded rude. "I mean, how may I be of service?"

She lowered her black hood, revealing her honey-coloured hair, then took out a notebook from within her robes. With a gesture she indicated they should walk towards the gates.

"You remember this?" she inquired, waving the book at him.

"How could I forget?" Milo replied. That day still haunted his dreams.

Waiting at the end of the drive was a coach. It bore no livery, but was painted pure black. The two horses who drew it had not even a snip of white on them. They were broad-shouldered and stocky with thick manes and feathered hooves. A silent footman opened the door and the sorceress nodded at Milo with an expression that said he would be unwise to refuse.

Milo stepped in and the sorceress sat down next to him. He was certain this was a bad idea, but suspected not doing so would be a worse one. There was a jolt as the coach started off. Milo realised he not only had no idea where they were going but that no one in the house had any idea he had left.

"You know why I'm here," the sorceress said; there was no hint of a question.

Milo nodded. "You are here to collect on my debt," he replied quietly. "What do I owe?"

"The sorceresses have a task for you, Milo Whitlaw. Have you come across a man named Matthias Holt?"

"He's the man in the park, isn't he? The one who talks against sorcery."

"Yes," she answered simply.

Milo remembered what his father had said when they had argued about the sorceress. "Do...Do you want me to kill him?" Suddenly Milo understood his father's fears. What if he could not kill a man? What would happen to him then? What would happen to Tobin?

Tobin dropped his pen suddenly.

She handed him something. It was small, about the size of a egg, rounded on one side and flat on the other. It was coloured a deep red that Milo desperately wanted to think of as ruby, but only reminded him of blood. The surface seemed to flicker and change, as if it was liquid underneath.

He heard Grandpa say something, but the words seemed muffled, as if hearing them through water.

"Is it a weapon?" he asked nervously. His father was right: there was no way he would be able to kill a man.

Tobin stood up and fell to his knees. He touched his face and found blood trickling from his nose. He tried to speak, but could not manage to form the words. The room was growing darker and there was a roaring sound in his ears.

She smiled. "There is no need to panic, I do not need an assassin. I simply need you to place this somewhere in his rooms, close to him but he must not find it."

Milo sagged visibly with relief. He took the object from the sorceress; it felt smooth and warm in his hand. "Is it so you can listen on his plans, with magic?"

She did not reply, but turned away and looked at the scenery passing the coach window. After a few minutes she turned back. "Holt has taken up residence in rooms above the guildhall . Do you know where that is?"

He nodded. He had passed the building a number of times since he had arrived in the city. It was an impressive building, decorated with carvings depicting the various guilds operating in the city.

"Good," she continued. "I understand he is at home today. You will visit him, under any pretext you like, and leave the devise somewhere hidden, but close to him. Then return here to me." The coach had pulled up some distance from where the guildhall was located. "It would not do to be seen approaching Holt after meeting with a sorceress."

Milo put the device in his pocket and left the coach, heading towards the center of the city. The walk took him close to half an hour, giving him time to consider his options, but as the building came into sight he had still to come up with a definite plan. Subterfuge was not in his nature; he preferred to deal with things directly, but there was no way to carry out the sorceress's request without lying. His fingers brushed against the shape in his pocket. Did it feel warmer?

There was a succession of well dressed men entering the main doors of the hall. Milo waited until they had all disappeared inside before speaking to the man on the door.

"Excuse me."

He turned to look at Milo, though Milo had a feeling he was looking over him, rather than at him.

"I'm...I'm looking for a man named Matthias Holt. I understand he lives around here."

"Is he expecting you, sir?" The last word was said in such a tone as to imply the speaker did not think it was warranted.

"Yes, I believe so," Milo lied, hoping he would not give himself away. If he could not convince this man, how would he get close enough to Holt to plant the sorceress's device?

"That door there," replied the man, pointing to one to the left of the guildhall's main entrance.

Milo thanked him and walked over to it. There was a large silver knocker in the shape of a lion's head, which he reached up and rapped twice. The noise seemed louder than he had intended, and in the silence that followed he could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart in his chest.

He was beginning to wonder if the sorceress was mistaken and no one was home when the door opened suddenly. He found himself looking down on a small man with thick greasy black hair and a ratty beard. He was dressed in stained overalls that smelt of soot and oil.

"Yeah?"

"I'm here to see Mr Holt," Milo told him.

"He know you?"

"No, I don't believe so." There seemed no point in lying at this point. "My name is Milo Whitlaw."

"Wait here," the man said, shutting the door in Milo's face. There was another long wait and Milo felt certain he had blown any chance of getting in so when the door opened again he took a step back in shock.

"Yeah, Holt will see you," the greasy man told him, holding open the door.

Milo followed him through into a narrow hallway that lead to a flight of stairs. There were no windows, so the only light came from a gas lamp burning on the landing. The man led him up to a door on the first floor, then knocked once sharply before entering. He gestured for Milo to follow him in.

The room he stepped into, in contrast to the stairway, was bright and airy, with two large windows that looked out onto the street. There was a fireplace at the far end with a large mirror hanging over it, making the room seem twice as big. Several leather armchairs had been arranged around a round table in the center of the room and standing beside the closest one was a man Milo guessed was Matthias Holt.

Milo had never been close enough to get a good look at the man in the park. He was taller than the earl, taller than their father even. His hair was a little shorter than Tobin's, just down to his collar. It was blond, apart from a streak of white that emerged from just behind his left temple. There was a scar that ran across the man's face from under his jaw to that point on his hairline where the lock of white protruded. His eyes were green and there was something in his expression that reminded Milo of a hawk.

“So,” he said as Milo entered, “You are Milo Whitlaw then. It is nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Milo had not known quite what to expect, but it certainly wasn't to be recognised.

“You've heard of me?”
“A little. Just your name mostly. You are connected with the sorceresses, no?” Though he spoke English perfectly, there was a strong accent to his words.

“No-no!” Milo stammered. “I have nothing to do with them.”

“You lie,” Holt said sadly, shaking his head. “I know you do not know me, but I had hoped you would be slightly more honest with me. Since coming to your country, I have been listening to all the talk I can about your sorceresses and lately one name has been coming to my ears: Milo Whitlaw. I would like to know why. I had intended to seek you out, but you found me first. However if you do not come to be truthful with me, then you can just leave.” He waved towards the door.

Milo decided to stick as close to the truth as he could. He suspected anything less would see him quickly ejected from the apartment. “I don't know why the sorceresses are talking about me; I'd like to know that myself. The first time I ever spoke to one was about six months ago.”

“Is that so?” Holt gestured to one of the chairs and took the opposite one. He sat cross legged, one elbow resting on his knee, his fingers steepled. “So, why have you come to me then?”

“I went to the sorceress to save my brother's life. At the time I was desperate and did not care about the price. She said she would come to me in the future and demand payment. Since coming to London, I have been wandering more about what it is they will ask me to do. I have always thought the sorceresses were a force for good but I've been hearing things and now I am less sure."

"So you came to hear straight from the horse's mouth, as it were." He nodded. "Good. Sensible man. Well then, let me tell you my story." He sat back in the chair, looking past Milo out the window. "I came from Rhetland originally; I was a sailor by trade. Your king, he sent emissaries to my country seeking to open up friendship, trade, goodwill between our nations. It was an interesting proposal: we knew little of your country. I was on the ship that was to carry our representatives to you. On board was our crown prince Arend, his mother Queen Astrid, some other dignitaries, and little princess Laila. She was not first choice for the expedition, you understand, being only three, but she simply refused to stay at home. She did not care much for me, though. I think my pretty face scared her." He ran a finger down the scar. There was a wistful smile on his lips that vanished suddenly. "All dead now. No more prince; no queen; no little princess running across the decks and shouting at the sea birds. All lost beneath the waves. Only myself and two others survived, and one of them has since died."

"I heard there was a storm," Milo said quietly.

Holt smiled again, but this time it was cold an bitter. "Yes, a storm. So convenient, no?"

"You think this was deliberate?"

"Boy, I know so! I was eight when I first signed on a ship, and I have been sailing for thirty years now. I have seen everything sea and sky can throw at a vessel and yet I have never seen a storm like that. Besides, it would not be the first time, no? Did not your sorceresses drive the Armada into the rocks and prevent their invasion a few hundred years ago?"

"But why? Wouldn't that risk retribution?"

"What country would retaliate against one that could smash their vessels into the ocean? Or maybe the sorceresses, they consider keeping the country isolated is worth the risk of war. Tell me, have you ever considered why keeping the country apart from the rest of the world is so important? Even they cannot keep track of every ship; some slip across the sea and thus snippets of information are traded. But woe betide any man who is caught admitting to such a journey."

Milo shook his head. "I haven't considered it much," he admitted. "I guess I just assumed it was to keep the country safe, from invaders and such."

"Or people with different ideas," Holt suggested. "People who suggest you give these people too much power over your lives. They tell you where you can go; they tell you what you can read; I hear they even tell you who to marry."

"Not every couple. But some are chosen by the sorceresses. My parents, for example." It was not something that was made common knowledge. He had over-heard his father say it once when he had drunk a bit much.

"Hmm, how interesting. What would you do if they came to you and said 'This one is the girl that you must marry'?"

"I don't know. But I don't know that they are wrong either. My parents loved each other dearly, maybe the sorceresses know what they are doing, maybe they have a good reason to join two people together like this. It's always been this way and I do not think things are so bad. If the sorceresses sank your ship, the. I understand why you are angry, but they do good too. My brother would be dead if not for the sorceresses' power." And what about your sister, he thought suddenly. If the sorceresses did not exist, she would still be alive. He pushed the thought down. I've had enough of this. "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course, my manners are lacking." He turned away and called out something in a language Milo did not recognise.

While his back was turned Milo pulled the sorceress' device out of his pocket and pushed it down between the arm of the chair and the cushion. It was definitely warmer and seemed to pulse slightly with hidden energy. Milo hoped his hiding place would be suitable.

The greasy man who had opened the door emerged and handed Milo a glass of water.

"I understand I cannot expect your people to change your entire way of life merely on the words of one foreign sailor with a grudge to bear. But I hope you will think on them. Something is coming, Milo Whitlaw. I do not know what, but your sorceresses are plotting something and do not believe it will be good for the world."

Milo finished the water and put the glass down on the small round table and stood. "I promise I will consider what you said. I can't promise anything more than that."

"That is all I ask." He held out his hand for Milo to shake. The skin on his palm was rough and calloused. "And should you wish to speak of such things again my door is always open to you. May God watch over you Milo Whitlaw."

The greasy man opened the door and let Milo out on to the street without a word. Milo left quickly and headed back to where he had left the sorceress. Looking back over his shoulder he could see Holt standing in the window, watching him. This time he was grateful he had such a long walk to get back to her. He did like to think what Holt would do if he knew Milo had been sent by the sorceress.

The coach was waiting where it has left him earlier. He climbed in and turned to the sorceress.

"Did you do it?" she demanded.

"Yes. I hid it within a chair on his room."

She smiled gleefully, an action which made her look suddenly younger. "Wonderful! Then your debt is paid in full." She sat back in her seat, looking out the window expectantly. For a while no one moved. The clock tower bells struck the hour, then quarter past and still the sorceress waited. Milo tried to speak to her, but she silenced him just as she had in the doctor's pony-trap in Blackwater.

Eventually there was a rumble of thunder just as the bells chimed half past. Then the sorceress nodded to herself and signalled for the coach to start. She said nothing more to Milo, but sat with a grin that he found a little uncomfortable. He made no further attempt to speak to her; he only wanted to get home as soon as possible. He wanted to talk to someone about hid conversation with Matthias Holt, but was not sure who to go to. He rather suspected Felicity would refuse to speak to him if she knew he was even in the presence of the man. Tobin would be interested, but explaining why Milo was there would mean admitting things to Tobin he was not yet comfortable revealing.

The coach pulled up just before the earl's house and Milo stepped out. It drove off before he had taken two steps down the driveway. He sighed. There was no point in worrying now, what was done was done. He could not help feeling guilty in allowing the sorceress to spy on Holt. The man had been open and honest with Milo, friendly even. Whereas the sorceress had been practically rude at times.

He entered the house and almost immediately bumped into Felicity.

"Good morning!" she said brightly. "Where have you been?"

"I just went for a walk," he replied nonchalantly.

"Do you have any plans? I'm about to join Lady Elizabeth and her brother for lunch if you would like to join me?"

"I'd love to. Just let me go and change."

"Wonderful!"

Her enthusiasm sounded somewhat forced, Milo thought as he headed upstairs. Was that just his imagination or was she merely pretending to be pleased to see him? He decided to put it down to paranoia; if she did not want him around, she would not have invited him.

He entered his bedroom and noticed Tobin lying on his bed in the other room, reading.

"Hello. I didn't expect to see you home this early."

"Neither did I," Tobin replied, putting the book down. "I got sent home."

"Why, are you sick?"

"No, I don't think so. At least, I feel fine now. But earlier, I got a really bad headache. It felt like someone was hitting me with a brick over and over. Then, just as suddenly it was gone and I was fine again. It was the strangest thing. I don't think I'm ill; just been working too hard maybe."

"I told you all that study wasn't good for you."

Tobin smiled. "Listen, are you free this afternoon? I need someone to slap me if I go for my notebooks and I feel like I've barely seen you for weeks."

"Sorry, I just made plans with Felicity."

"Oh, okay."

"But I don't have anything planned for tomorrow," he added quickly. "Maybe we could get lunch or something."

At lunch and during the rest of the afternoon Felicity was much as she had been when he first came to the house. She apologised for being away for so much, but when Milo tried to get any details about what she had been doing she was evasive. All he could get from her was that she had been spending time wigh her sisters. Milo did not push, he knew he would not get anything more from her if she did not want to say.

Lady Elizabeth was a horse-faced young woman who never got jokes but brayed like a donkey at her own. Her brother was about the most boring man Milo had ever met. But he was pleased to spend time with Felicity again.

That evening she joined Milo and Tobin in the sitting room as they were settling down for a game of chess. Tobin seemed completely unaffected by his earlier experience. If Milo was correct about the cause this would make sense. He felt angry that the sorceress had not warned him what would happen to his brother while Milo was deliberating, but there was no point to giving in to the emotion. The sorceress was gone and Milo's debt was paid in full. He would never have to deal with her again.

"You look terribly pensive," Felicity commented as she sat down. She was wearing a cream dress trimmed with pink beads that rustled when she moved. "Are you losing?"

"It's a given that he's losing," Tobin replied with a grin. "The only question is how badly."

"Shut it, I haven't lost yet."

Tobin moved his knight on the board. "Check! My net is closing in."

"You enjoy this far too much," Milo muttered. He turned to Felicity. "Do you play?"

She shook her head. "No I never learned. There was no one really to teach me."

"I could teach you," Milo commented, ignoring his brother's mocking expression.

She smiled and shook her head. "Thank you but no. I haven't much time to myself at the moment as it is."

"I hope whatever is keeping you busy is not troubling you?" Milo enquired.

"No, not at all! My sisters are in the city, I have been spending much of my time with them."

"Is something happening with the sorceresses?" Tobin asked. "There seem to be many more out and about these days."

"That's nothing you need to worry yourself about," she replied stiffly.

"I rather think it is. If there is a conference of sorceresses going on, what are they plotting I wonder? What will they decide humanity needs to forsake next? Trains? Carriages? Maybe soap?"

"You're being absurd! Why would they condemn soap?"

"I don't know, why do they condemn anything? None of it makes any sense to me."

"That's because you're a small-minded, ignorant little man obsessed by your prejudice," she spat vehemently.

"Now who is being absurd?" Tobin demanded, somewhat taken aback by her anger, but not prepared to back down to it. "I'm ignorant because you can't explain why some things are allowed and others forbidden?"

"I don't have to listen to this," she announced, standing up and sweeping from the room.

Milo sighed. "Can't you knock it off?"

"Why? Tell me what I said that wasn't true?"

"It's not that. You used to go out of your way to avoid offending anyone. It was a trait that used to drive me mad. But in this instance it would be really useful, please?"

"I'll try. There's just something about her that bothers me. It's irrational, I should let it get to me, but it does."

They carried on the game of chess for a few more moves until Felicity returned, carrying a tea tray. Tobin stood up.

"I'm sorry, I was rude earlier. I shall leave you alone."

"Please don't leave, stay and have some tea, Tobin." She smiled sweetly.

He shrugged slightly and accepted the cup he was offered. "Um, thank you."

"I've changed my mind," she continued, turning to Milo. "I would very much like for you to teach me how to play chess."

"With pleasure."

Milo set the board up again and began to go through the various pieces and how they moved. Felicity leaned in close, listening attentively. When she felt familiar enough with the rules they began to play a game. Milo took a guilty pleasure in the fact that he might actually get to win a game. They were about half way through when Tobin stood up suddenly.

"Are you feeling all right?" Felicity enquired. "You've gone very pale."

"I don't feel too good," he admitted. "I'm going to lie down."

"Another headache?" Milo asked with concern.

"No, I think I've eaten something I shouldn't have. I need to go," he added, heading out of the room hurriedly. Milo stood up to follow but Felicity touched his hand.

"He probably just wants to be left alone for a bit," she assured him. "I'm sure he's fine. Come on, let's finish the game."

Later the doctor came and left. Tobin curled up under the eiderdown and prepared to spend a miserable night. When he heard the sound of the earl's voice outside the door he sat up.

"I don't remember sending for you, Doctor."

"No, sir. One of the staff did. Should I wait for a summons from you alone in future?"

"Now you are just being obtuse."

"I'm sorry. Listen, I believe in what you are doing, and I understand you feel your hospitality has been put upon, but they are both just children and I feel poisoning is a step too far. Sir," he added.

"Poisoned? You say he has been poisoned?"

"Not seriously, he'll be fine in the morning."

"This did not happen by my hand, I assure you. I did not want him here, but whether I like it or not he is a guest under my roof." There was a pause. "I have my suspicions though."

Tobin had his suspicions too. Strangely, the knowledge left him feeling reassured, rather than angry or afraid. He had always wondered if perhaps he had done something wrong, if he had offended his hosts in some way. But here was the earl admitting he did not want him here. And that was fine. It was less than a month before the university exams and then Tobin would be free to go home.

Even Felicity's actions did not bother him particularly, though he would think twice about accepting a cup of tea from her in future. It was clear from her behavior this evening that she felt any criticism of the sorceresses as a personal insult. He was a little concerned about his brother's continued fondness for her, but he suspected she would not be able to hide her true colours from even Milo forever.

"Something has happened," the earl was saying. "Something outside my influence. The sorceresses are fractious, those at the Academy like to pretend they have more power than they do by acting on their; that's part of the reason things have come to this. I do not know if it is for good or ill yet, but I will need to be careful."

The doctor said something in reply but they had started walking away now and Tobin was unable to hear anything more.