Preamble

John Ismay’s House, Kinspit

 

‘What harm do cobwebs do, exactly?’ asked John looking up from his desk.

Hardacre was standing on a chair, meticulously removing the tiny strands of silk from one corner of his master’s study. At first he didn’t answer.

‘Are you ignoring me, Laurence?’ asked John, without irritation

‘I’m trying to, sir, but I’m finding it quite difficult, sir. You keep talking to me....’

‘You’re ten feet in the air – how could anyone even see them up there?’  

One more flick of the brush and Hardacre was done. He stepped off the chair with the grace of a subtle, if somewhat ageing, ballerina. He nodded his head.

‘I saw them, clearly. Otherwise my actions would have been utterly nugatory’

‘I’m trying to write a letter...’

Hardacre raised his eyebrows a mote. He stifled a smile and converted it into his best poker face.

‘You normally seem to crave interruptions at such times, sir; I usually schedule your suit fittings on days when you have a heavy epistolary burden. You’re much easier to coax away...’

John turned back to his letter. He picked up his pen.

‘Your eagerness can only mean one thing, sir...’ Hardacre made this ellipsis hang in the air.

‘Which is...?’

‘You’re writing to Princess Lily’

 John scowled. He put his pen down for the second time.

‘Well, yes I am – she’s about to start at the University and I wanted to wish her luck’

‘Why, sir?’

John’s scowl got deeper and he shook his head.

‘I’m fond of her. You know that’

Hardacre allowed himself a single ‘tut’

‘Have we not discussed the potential folly of involving a princess in the council’s affairs?’

‘Yes, we have, but at no time have I agreed with you conclusions...’

‘Your prerogative, sir... you are president of the council, after all...

Hardacre stood in front of John, almost as if to attention, his cobwebber held pointing forward, almost like a sword. John knew what this meant – he needed to live up to his position.

‘I am being prudent, Laurence, despite what you think. I have appointed two mentors of the highest quality to look after her’

Hardacre lowered the cobwebber. He assumed a less martial stance, but his eyes remained sceptical.

‘And they are who, sir?’

‘Elizabeth and Myfanwy’

Hardacre considered this for a moment.

‘The two most mutually opposed members of the council’ He raised one eyebrow, ‘an interesting choice’

‘It will give her an idea of the range of possible options ...’

Hardacre allowed himself a small frown.

‘Options? I suppose it will. I know what you’re doing, sir’

John frowned back, wondering how transparent he really was.

‘You do, do you Laurence?’

‘I believe so...’

Hardacre’s expression changed. An unexpected flicker of concern troubled his face.

‘Don’t raise your hopes too high, sir... She’s only taken a few steps away from childhood. There are all too many opportunities to stumble in front of her’

John shook his head, irritated by Hardacre’s perception.

‘I’m just examining possibilities’

There was a beat.

‘May I be frank, sir?’

John nodded.

‘Why Princess Lily? There are many promising young witches out there.. Not that she might not become one of them, of course. But at the moment she’s just a rash young woman; highly intelligent and personable, of course, but... a long shot, perhaps for the sort of thing that you have in mind’

John shrugged, acknowledging his potential hubris.

‘I’m not at all sure – I just have this feeling and I have had it from when I first met her. It’s something in her eyes. Also... and I admit that this is very odd... it’s the same thing I saw in George’s eyes when Hannah introduced me to him twenty five years ago. It’s uncanny... ’

Hardacre stood silent, clearly unable to say any of the things that were in his head. John stood up and grasped his arm. He looked directly into his eyes.

‘I need your support in this, Laurence, even if you think that it’s utter nonsense. It means a lot to me...’

Hardacre breathed in. Duty called. He took a step backwards and John let go of his arm.

‘Of course, sir. On these matters I am always and entirely at your disposal’

John was momentarily at a loss. The first thing that came into his mind fell unbidden out of his lips.

‘One of my greatest regrets is that I’ll never have a...’

‘Sir...’ Hardacre cut across him, ‘...some things are best unsaid; particularly to staff...’

John smiled thinly. There was another moment of silence. John picked his jacket up from behind his chair.

‘Shall we get on with the day, Laurence? I have to go down to the University. I’ll finish the letter later.’

‘Very well, sir. Will you be back for lunch?’

John slipped the jacket on and made for the door. ‘I hope so...’

After John had left Hardacre waited for a moment in the study, briefly wondering whether there might indeed be more important things to do than clearing cobwebs from the corners of high ceilings. He nodded to himself – of course there were – the rugs needed beating. Where was Simkins?

Chapter one

Near Kylakapec, Tlaxaca

 

They had dipped him in what looked like tar and then handed him a potion. He had no idea who they were – he’d never seen any northerners before and they spoke a language that he didn’t understand. He’d always been proud that he knew many words in the common tongue of humans but he couldn’t understand any of these. It was clear that they were witches, though, and his captain had happily let them do those things to him; possibly because he was terrified.

He had been trained to be a spy and an assassin; a sneak and murderer, but they all called him Thief. The Tlaxacans needed lots of spies, as they valued stealth and the tainted blade over ordinary combat. The thief had never doubted the need for any of this, as he had been born and raised within the warrior caste – he rejoiced in fighting for Yellowcloak, his god and his master – and some warriors must spy and steal so that the battle could be fought on their terms and not the enemy’s. He had learned that from the very beginning of his training, in the nursery, years before. 

After that, his captain took him to a priest who led him in great haste to a strange tall round building in the centre of Kylakapec, close to the god’s temple. The priest knelt in front of the tower and chanted words that the thief recognised as the magic language of the god. He was in awe – he’d never heard it spoken outside the temple before.

A high stone door swung open in the building and the priest prodded him to enter. Inside there were steps leading up to a first floor platform. On the platform stood another man, dressed in even more spectacular robes and wearing the yellow crown of the High Priest. At the top of the stairs the thief fell to his knees: weeping and praying. The High Priest stared down at him. 

‘Get up!’ he spat, ‘I don’t have time for that nonsense’

The thief forced himself to his feet.

‘Are you the one they call “The Master Thief”?’ the High Priest asked him.

The thief nodded, too terrified to speak.

‘And you can read?’

He nodded again.  

‘Can you interpret a map?’

He made a noise that started off life as a ‘yes’ but died at birth. The High Priest didn’t seem to care.

‘Good – I had heard that you showed some skills in the written word. That is excellent’

The yellow folds of the High Priest’s cloak wrapped round the priest’s body like petals on a human flower; the thief found the rustling of the fabric fascinating. It calmed him and made him listen particularly intently to what the holy man was saying. 

‘Take this map.’

He took the rolled piece of parchment that the holy man handed to him. He unrolled it and stared at it. It showed a path through a labyrinth, with the ways marked in yellow chalk. It reeked of the god, strong and rarefied; so like the sweet stink of tainted rotting flesh.

‘What is this?’ he forced himself to ask. The High Priest’s voice swelled in response. It was almost music  

‘It is one of the god’s maps; it is the map given to him to allow him to reach the centre of the temple at Tlaxapec and so visit the Wisest One’

‘Our Lord Greycloak?’ the thief whispered, reverently.

‘Indeed, he...’

‘I can’t...’ began the thief.

The holy one shook his head.

‘Yes, you can and you must’

‘But what must I do?’

The High Priest took a step to one side and revealed a yellow circle on the ground ,glowing with light. It was large enough for one human-sized figure to stand on it.

‘I want you to stand on this circle and it will take you, instantly, to the entrance of the Wise One’s pyramid. Then you must follow the instructions on the map and penetrate to the centre of the labyrinth’  

 ‘But... why? Is that not only fitting for the gods?’

The High Priest frowned.

‘Perhaps, but our lord requires you to do it; to manoeuver through the labyrinth and report what you find’

‘But I will be discovered...’

The holy one half-smiled. It was not an expression that suited him.

‘That is why we have had out northern friends dip you in the Dew of Anonymity; and why they have also given you a draught of invisibility. The combination of those two things will make you as insubstantial as a puff of wind’

‘Are you certain, my lord?’

‘Yes, but you must hurry. The enchantments will only last for five hours and you must return before they wear off. You will need to memorise the map, as after you become invisible you will not be able to read it again.’

‘My memory is said to be excellent, my lord’

The High Priest narrowed his eyes.

‘Unsurpassed, I am told. That is why you were chosen’

The thief was still baffled.    

‘But what is it you want me to find out?’

The High Priest sighed.

‘Just report what you see; that is all, do not think about it – and do not get caught. Return as soon as you start to become visible. Now... hurry!’

The thief stepped on to the yellow circle.

 

There was a brief pop in the air and then he was somewhere else – in a grey featureless room with four corridors running from it. The air was lit dimly from unseen sources – he didn’t have time to worry about that.

He studied the map intently for a few seconds and committed it to his memory.  Then he drank the magical draught, as instructed. A few seconds later he was invisible.

He ran down the left hand passageway. Now he was in the maze; corridors and rooms came at him as he ran. He chose first left, a corridor on the right, then second right; beyond that a chamber, with a frieze of dragons on it.  He stopped for a second to get his breath back.  He had seen dragons in the sky over his home city – high up in the heavens, symbols of scared power; but these seemed different. Here, someone had painted them golden and their eyes were grey.  He turned around. There was a sliding cover on a secret door beneath a recumbent dragon and then a long corridor that led into another chamber. This one had clearly once been adorned with red flames, but now, once again, they had been painted over so that the flames were pale as milk. Beyond this room there were multiple ways. He stopped to think: third of four, fifth of seven, first of three. The passageway opened out again. Here was a room with a high ceiling. It seemed to have originally been painted sky blue, but now it was covered with grey clouds, obscuring most of the original rendering. He thought that he heard a sound somewhere in front of him. He waited for a moment and then proceeded more slowly, stopping to listen every few steps. He was close to the end now – second right and then through a hallway that might once have depicted a naval battle but now just appeared, in his brief glances, to show a shipping fleet.  From then on there was a straight passageway leading, according to the memorised map, to the centre of the pyramid. There was one more chamber, to his left, which showed strange squat brown figures rising from a newly painted sea. He hurried on.

A grey cowled figure was sitting on a wooden chair at the end of this last corridor. He started, as if he had been asleep, and then jumped up. It was clear that, despite the enchantments laid upon him, this creature could see, or perhaps sense, him.  

‘He’s long gone, I’m afraid’ murmured the figure, standing up with a stiff bend of his limbs. He seemed misshapen – as if his limbs had outgrown his body.

‘Who are you’ asked the thief

‘I am a follower of the Grey Wanderer’

‘A priest?’ asked the thief

‘Perhaps... I’m not sure though that that is quite the right word’

‘Are there many of you?’

‘Priests? Well, I’m not sure. I think perhaps two – me and one other who lives elsewhere’

‘Only two?’ asked the thief, astonished, ‘to serve the Wise One who Leads Us All?’

The grey creature laughed.

‘It’s not much of a religion...and my lord no longer answers to that title. He has wandered far and learned many things. He has come to the fork in the road and he has taken the second way...’

‘But the many priests who were here before – the myriads that worshipped the Imperial Deity, what happened to them?’

‘A wanderer needs no priests – he sent them away. Only I remain... as caretaker, if you like...’

The thief had no idea what this could mean and so he concentrated on something that he could understand.

 ‘Why do you speak to me in the common tongue? Is Tlaxacan not your native language?’

The grey figure pushed back the hood of his cloak. The face and head beneath it were misshapen, with a long jaw and a huge blobby nose. His eyes were intensely grey.

‘You’re of the kinaam’ blurted out the human thief.

The grey priest shook his head.

‘No, I am not, but I am made of the same materials; but there is no bloodline leading from them to me...’

Once again the thief had no idea what this meant, so he waited, hoping that things would start to make sense.

‘We have agreed that we will speak the language of the north as it carries no stigma. We will not speak the language of the slavers’

‘Slavers?’

‘Yes – those who hold our cousins in bondage’

Dread leapt up at the thief – this was no ally, this was almost certainly an enemy. The labyrinth seemed cold and dank – it did not feel like a place where a god might live.

‘Are you going to kill me?’ he asked

The grey figure pulled up his hood so that it covered his face again.

‘No, of course not – we do not kill. It is not me you should fear’ he said, ‘it is your masters’

‘How can that be?’

The priest spoke more loudly and more slowly.

‘The dew will kill you; it is very toxic. It is only intended to be used once...’

‘What?’

‘Your priests have doomed you...’

‘No...’

‘Sadly, it is true. The dew dissolves away a soul in six hours; in order to make you seem as nothing they have to turn you into nothing. It is necromancy – perhaps even fouler than a taint’

The thief’s heart began to thump loudly in his chest, but no-one could hear it. His throat was dry but he could not cough. It was clearly true – he was fading away.

‘No...’ he cried out loudly, but he was not speaking either; the priest could read his mind somehow. He had been cruelly misled.

‘What can I do?’ he moaned, wondering how much time had passed, and  how much longer he had. The priest came forward and stood in front of him. His voice dropped to a hum.  

‘You can help me, poor pilgrim’

The thief was desperate. He imagined how long his few hours could be made to last; his very last hours. His voice became a savage mix of hatred and despair.

‘What are you talking about – you’re the last person I would help, dying or not... and I’m a thief not an ‘pilgrim’.

The strange angular face behind the grey cowl smiled sadly.

‘Well, none of that is true, my friend. We are all pilgrims and I am almost certain that you will help me ‘

All that the spy wanted to was to run, run perhaps to a river or a pond and try to wash the deadly tar off his body. He sobbed.

‘Why... why are you so certain?’

The grey creature slid his hand into his voluminous pockets. He pulled out a vial of brown liquid; it shimmered in the darkness with a reddish inner light. His voice was finely edged with laughter.

‘Why am I so certain?’ he answered, ‘Because I can heal you’

Chapter two

The High Lord’s Residency, Eth City

 

The two women sat either side of a mahogany table in the middle of the oak timbered drawing room. They were both wearing the standard semi-elegant dresses of the sort of aristocratic ladies who were involved in charitable work. There were no pearls, but they might well wear them for dinner later.  Lady Anne looked a little dowdier than Councillor Jenkins, but she liked to keep a lower profile. The High Lord’s sister had to be particularly cautious.

‘An apprentice’ she laughed, ‘it makes you sound like a plumber...’

Elizabeth smarted slightly. Her pride was easily hurt.

‘”intern” may be a better term’

Anne’s eyes widened. The laughter died on her lips.

‘Whatever seems appropriate to you, Lizzie. I meant no offence’

Elizabeth picked up her tea cup and took a sip. She waited a moment before putting it back down on her saucer.  Lady Anne smiled at her.

‘So who is this person?’

Elizabeth hesitated; John had insisted on a false name and history, even to Lady Anne. Actually, as Elizabeth was all too aware, especially to Lady Anne.  He had forbidden her from revealing her true identity.

‘Molly Smith – she’s the daughter of an Ethian merchant who sells woollen goods in Amansk’

‘She doesn’t sound very promising’ murmured Anne, ‘but then witches seem to come in all shapes and sizes... and you seem to make it work’

‘She’s from a good family – I can assure you of that’

‘I’m sure she is’ Anne was smiling her most beguiling smile

Elizabeth was irritated by the shape of this conversation; it wasn’t what she meant to talk about at all.  She was determined to change the subject.

 ‘Have you any recent news about the activities of the CRS?’ she asked, rather too bluntly

Anne’s tilted her head fractionally. Her interest was clearly piqued.

‘That’s a curious  question – isn’t that usually the Hybitor’s area? We tend to stay clear of witchy things...’

Elizabeth swallowed, for once uncertain of how much it would be prudent to say.

‘We’ve had...’ she paused, ‘...some assaults on our bases...’

‘Have you? That sounds most upsetting’

Elizabeth tiptoed around the truth.

‘Some casualties....  some defences breached; there is some concern within the council that the CRS are gearing up for something big’

Anne shook her head.

‘That is all a bit vague, Lizzie. Anyway – what would you like us to do, exactly?’

Elizabeth stumbled a little over her words. She knew that any help given by the Ethian hierarchy would need to be repaid.   

‘Could you put some people on it? Just to see what’s happening in Eth’

Anne nodded.

‘Yes, of course... I will see that it’s done’

‘And...’ Elizabeth was speaking carefully and slowly, ‘...there’s another group...’

‘More evil witches?’ asked Anne, her voice half concern and half amusement.

‘We don’t know. It’s a group calling themselves the Radical Numerologists’

‘Not exactly evil’ murmured Anne.

‘I’ve heard of them’ she continued, ‘but I have no idea what they are up to. They remain an enigma’

Elizabeth nodded.

‘And to us too...’ she admitted

‘We’ll see what we can find out...’ said Anne, ‘...and with that in mind...’

Anne gestured to the maid who was waiting silently at the double entrance doors. She nodded, pushed them open and left the room. This was evidently a pre-arranged signal.

‘...I think I have chosen a particularly good time to appoint a new Hybitor liaison officer. It looks like there will be a lot of work to do’

Elizabeth glanced over at the door.

‘Really? Did you let Martin go?’

‘Yes – I’ve sent him back to his regiment. He wasn’t really very happy in his role’

Elizabeth was relieved; he had been almost completely incompetent – just like all of the previous ones. Why was it so hard to find someone who could work well with her?

‘So, who have you got for me this time?’ she asked

‘It’s a surprise’ whispered Anne, her eyes bright with amusement.

The maid came back through the door with Lady Anne’s surprise. She was a very familiar matronly middle-aged woman. It was Elizabeth’s younger sister.

‘Vicky – what on earth are you doing here?’

Victoria smiled graciously, curtseying in her plain domestics’ uniform.

‘I’m serving my country’ she said, showing no sign of shock at their reunion, ‘as best I can’

Anne beckoned her to bring up a chair. She was still enjoying her theatrical coup.  

‘This is Captain Victoria Jenkins, newly assigned to my household staff – she’s your new liaison officer. I think that you may have met...’

Elizabeth got up and the two sisters embraced warily. They hadn’t seen each other for more than five years; other communications had been scanty. Elizabeth broke free first. She turned to look for some hint of an expression in Lady Anne’s face. There wasn’t very much to go on.

‘So – you’ve reinstated her?’

‘That supposes that she was ever off our books, of course. Once a spy for the High Lord... you know....’

Anne touched Victoria on the shoulder. She laughed softly.

‘I’m so sorry, Vicky – it’s rude to refer to someone in the third person when they’re standing next to you’

‘I wasn’t offended, ma’am’ responded Victoria briskly. The conversation lapsed into brief silence.

Elizabeth wondered for a second about the reasons behind Victoria’s reinstatement. She wasn’t entirely sure about her sister’s career but she was certain that it had had its hitches; including something that had looked, at the time, a lot like a cashiering. She was also well aware that her last job had been as governess to her apprentice.  Something was fishy about this, but she would have to angle for the truth most carefully. First some pleasantries were required.

‘What a marvellous choice’ she said, gushing just a little too much, ‘Vicky and I will work together very well, I’m sure’

Victoria mumbled a general agreement sort of noise. Anne smiled politely. Then, in a sudden change of tone, she addressed Victoria directly. Her question was clearly pre-prepared. 

‘You lived in Amansk for quite a while, Vicky, didn’t you?’

‘Yes – for seven years’

‘And you must have got to know the local worthies fairly well, I suppose?’

‘I’d say so, ma’am’

Anne glanced at Elizabeth and then back to Victoria. Victoria thought she knew what was coming next – a demonstration of Lady Anne’s covert power.

‘You won’t have heard,’ Anne continued, ‘but Elizabeth has a new apprentice’

‘Oh really...’ said Victoria, ‘umm – who is that?’

Elizabeth sighed softly – these performances would be booed off any stage.  Now it was her turn to perform.

‘Miss Molly Smith’ she said, wearily.

Victoria narrowed her eyes, as if to say ‘I’m sorry!’ to her sister.

‘Yes, I know her’ Victoria said, woodenly, ‘she’s the daughter of a very wealthy wool merchant’

Anne beamed.

‘Well, that’s a good thing. The poor young lady will have someone else that she knows...’

Elizabeth gave in – best to go with the flow. It was always this way – it was almost impossible to keep a secret from Anne.

‘Yes, quite true. I’m sure Molly will be delighted to see an old... acquaintance’

‘I’m sure’ agreed Victoria, a dull echo. Anne’s expression changed to grave consideration.

‘As for me’ she announced, ‘I intend to take a special interest in Miss Smith; I have heard some very good things about her’

Elizabeth waited to see if there was any more of this. It was a defeat for John, but it probably didn’t matter that much to her- it was his mess.  

There were some more chit-chat between the long sundered siblings and an agreement to meet the next day in Elizabeth’s house. Victoria was dismissed. Elizabeth would have been happy to go too, but she needed to clear a couple of things up. She picked up her cloak as if to leave.

‘I have enjoyed this chat’ said Anne, ‘very useful’

Elizabeth made no attempt to conceal her exasperation.

‘It could have been a lot shorter if you’d been honest with me in the first place’

‘About what?’ Anne asked, sharply, her face temporarily sour, ‘you surely know by now that nothing happens in this city without me finding out about it. But it’s one thing to know something and another to feel the need to do anything about it. I plan to treat Princess Lily exactly as suggested by her apparent biographical details...’

Elizabeth frowned.

‘Is this a problem?’

Anne shook her head.

‘Possibly it’s a foolish plan, but it’s not a problem. Just keep a lid on it’

Elizabeth hurriedly put her jacket on.

‘Of course’

Anne smiled and walked over to her. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand momentarily. 

‘Shall we meet again this time next week?’ she asked, almost as if she was worried that she had gone too far.

‘Of course’ responded Elizabeth, ‘I look forward to these get-togethers...’

‘Yes, indeed’ agreed Anne warmly, ‘they are an essential part of my calendar’

The witch hoped that this meant ‘I need you as much as you need me’ but with Anne it was hard to say. 

She allowed Anne to peck her on the cheek goodbye and then she was free.  Her first instinct as she walked down the long corridor to the complex entrance was to tell John that Lily’s cover was blown, but then she decided against it – she wished no harm on Lily, of course, but a bit of embarrassment for John wouldn’t do any harm would it? She’d maybe wait a bit before telling him.

Chapter three

Eth City University: Magic Facility – Western School

‘Who are you?’ asked the tiny young woman with the amazing cheek bones. She looked like a smile.

Lily was startled. She’d been in the packed registration hall for just ten seconds and already someone had come straight over to talk to her.

‘I’m Molly’ she said, marvelling at how very easy it was to lie.

‘Hello Molly! I’m Julia’ said the girl, eagerly, ‘you must be starting today, too...’

Lily was briefly distracted by Julia’s eyes – they were deep and black: unnerving, but without a trace of malice. Her hair was also pitch black, piled in a bun on top of her head. She wondered if when unpinned it might reach the floor.

‘Uhhh, yes, I am, I suppose...starting today, I mean...yes’ Lily responded. Julia tilted her head to consider this mumble.

‘That’s an interesting accent...’ She stopped for a beat, looking a little concerned. ’Oh, Is Ethian not your first language?’

Lily nodded. Julia looked puzzled.

‘It is... or it isn’t?’

‘It is my first language – I’m from Amansk’

‘Oh really? I know nothing about Amansk at all, I’m afraid, but you can teach me all about it. I plan to find out about everything!’

Lily smiled despite herself.

‘It’s not a very exciting place – it’s not like here...’

‘Everywhere and everything that’s new is extraordinarily exciting, I promise you’

For a moment Lily was willing to believe it.

‘Have you made any friends yet’ Julia asked

Lily shook her head.

‘I’ve only been here for a few minutes. I just came in to register’

‘Great!’ Julia laughed and took her hands, ‘we can be first-found-friends – that’s a very important position. It means that you’re my best friend here – at least for a while...’

Lily smiled back. She’d come to the big city (so much bigger than Amansk) apprehensive and cowed but now, for the first time in several days, she’d forgotten all about that.  

‘Shouldn’t we get into one of these queues?’ she asked. The room was full of tables with people waiting patiently in line behind them. The queues had started forming at nine, and now she was regretting leaving it an hour before she came to sign up for her course.

Julia dragged her into the middle of the room. She dropped Lily’s hands and looked round.

‘I have to find Sebastian first’

‘Sebastian?’

‘My brother. He promised that he’d meet me here’ She lowered her voice, ‘He needs a huge amount of looking after. It’s a bit of a yawn, to be honest...’

‘Sounds like my brother...’ Lily stopped herself – did Molly have a brother? John had told her to tell the minimum number of lies possible. So, yes, Molly had a brother who was almost exactly like Toby.

‘Is he older or younger?’ asked Julia

‘Older. And yours?’

‘Five minutes younger – it makes all the difference!’

‘Oh – you’re twins?’

‘Yes’ Julia mock-groaned, ‘it’s such a burden!’

An exceptionally tall young man, with short blue-grey hair, appeared at their side. He looked cross.

‘This is Sebastian’ said Julia, ‘turning up right on time’

The young man glared at her sister.

‘This place is a shambles, Jules; why didn’t we come earlier?’

Julia frowned. She pointed to Lily.

‘I wanted to meet new people... and I did’

Sebastian stared at Lily idly, clearly intending to be unimpressed. However, he did a double take and ended up gawking at her. It was unnerving: was he leering? Lily turned back to Julia.

 ‘The room’s crowded with people... why did you make straight for me?’

Sebastian snorted.

‘Because you’re sweating magic’

Julia slapped his shoulder. Lily pressed her arms flat against her body imagining that she had a big wet patch under her armpits, perhaps even on her shirt.

‘Ignore him, he can be utterly horrible sometimes’

Sebastian glared at his twin.

‘However, it is true... you’re spilling magic like a broken tap spills water’

Julia reached over to slap him again, but stopped herself. She turned her attention to Lily.

‘We’re seers. We can spot emanations of magic. That’s why I came over – to investigate the friendly looking girl with the huge magical glow’  

Lily felt a sharp disappointment and it creased her face. Julia saw the look immediately and hugged her tight. 

‘I’m so sorry – you really did look friendly... And I really do want us to be friends...it wasn’t just the glow...’

The hug was about the friendliest thing that anyone had ever done to her so Lily forgave her. After allowing herself a few seconds of comfort she gently wriggled out of the embrace.

‘I thought it was I who was meant to be unbearable’ muttered Sebastian, ‘you’re positively nauseating...’

Without another word he was gone. Julia shrugged.

‘He’ll be back’ she said, ‘he won’t be able to stay away from you for very long’

Lily’s heart jumped a little, she wasn’t entirely sure why.

‘What?’

‘Because of the glow. He’ll want to know your story, even if it’s despite himself...’

Lily didn’t like the sound of that – no-one should get to know her story at all.

‘Are we going to queue?’ she asked. Julia looked round the room; it had filled up even more since they had entered.

‘No’ she announced, ‘let’s go and get a drink’

 

 

***

Student pubs were scattered around everywhere in the University Quarter; they catered for every taste. Every one of them would have been completely out of bounds for Princess Lily, but they might suit Molly Smith very well, who knew?

Julia started off at a fast pace, as if she knew where she was going, but after two dead ends and a tavern that smelt of straw soaked in horse urine, Lily started to suspect that she didn’t. 

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as they made their way back to the centre of the quarter.

‘No idea...’ giggled Julia, ‘I’m trying to find a nice pub. Preferably full of talent’

‘Talent...?’ Lily asked, knowing the answer.

‘Boys, of course... What do you call them in Ardansk?’

‘Amansk...’ Lily corrected her softly.

‘In Amansk, sorry – what do you call attractive young men?’

Servants thought Lily, but she just shrugged.

Julia stopped in the street and grabbed hold of Lily’s sleeve. She mimed shock.

‘You do know some attractive young men, don’t you, Moll?’

Lily though of Dom, but maybe he didn’t count. Who knew where he was anyway? They seemed somehow to have lost touch.

‘Not really’ she admitted, in awe of this level of sexual sophistication. ‘Do you, then?’

‘Well...’ started Julia, pushing her chest out so that her body shape was strongly accentuated. Lily was as astonished as she was impressed: her new friend must know so many things! But then Julia giggled. ‘...not really – that wasn’t the sort of thing that mother encouraged’

Lily felt disappointed again and once more Lily noticed her expression change. She grabbed hold of her hand again.

‘But we can do something about that now, can’t we. We’re going to meet loads of boys! And you’re so lovely they’ll buzz round you like bees...’

 ‘...I’m not sure that I want lots of bees buzzing round me...’

Julia groaned. ‘...let me finish...’

‘What?’

‘It’s an Ethian expression... it’s “like bees round a honeypot”

Lily coloured slightly.

‘Isn’t that a bit rude?’ she asked, half-hoping that it was.

Julia sighed and raised her eyebrows.

‘Perhaps we’ll find a tea shop’ she said, ‘I’m not sure that you’re ready for pubs and boys just yet...’

 

***

That was how they found Aunt Amelia’s Jam Emporium, a tweedy shop whish served beverages in a tiny room in the back. They ordered cream teas, which were served by a hairy man who they assumed was not Aunt Amelia.  Once the pot of tea and the scones has arrived Julia began to tell Lily her life story – and the expectation floating there was that ‘Molly’ would do the same.

Julia started off at a breakneck pace.

‘So, my father is the High Lord’s lawyer; well, one of them. He’s based at the Inner Lion Court. His job is amazingly boring but fortunately he isn’t – he’s rather fun. |The there’s my mother. She hates that Sebastian and I are Seers and she blames my dad; which is sort of true. He’s a westerner and I think he’d have been a witch if she’d been given a chance. But his parents are so fuddy-duddy...’

 She stopped, frowned and took a sip of her tea. Then she looked at Lily.

‘Sorry – I gabble; I’ve been told it’s a serious etiquette problem...’

Lily smiled. She felt much calmer now that they were in a safer space.

‘I don’t mind. I do the same thing...’

‘Really?’ exclaimed Julia, ‘you seem a bit quiet at the moment... but feel free to gabble away. I’ll eat my scone. Tell me about your family...’

Lily’s heart sank. She had been prepared for this moment, of course, but now that it had come she felt tempted to tell the truth and get it over with; but she knew she couldn’t, it would be the end of her adventure. All the adults, from her father down to John had made it clear that if she was found out then she would have to go home.

‘My father is an Ethian merchant from Hinter. He’s been based in Amansk for a long time now – it’s the only place I’ve ever known. My mother tries to keep to the Ethian ways, although she’s from Gorodnikov...’

As she spoke she realised that, with Julia at least, this was going to work. Her new friend had clearly only the faintest idea where any of the places that she was talking about were to be found.  She was able to weave a story that was true enough to be believable and for the time being it was being swallowed.

So, she gave herself a governess (plausible enough in a foreign country), a loving father (proven time and time again), an equally loving, but very particular mother (only a bit unfair), and a clumsy, dull and boorish brother (grossly unfair). Maybe this would be more fun than she had feared.

‘And they don’t know I’m training to be a witch’ she blurted out, happily.

Julia’s eyes widened precipitously.

‘What? Really? You’re going to be a witch? How do you know that? I thought that was all dependent on how good we are and... well... lots of other stuff I don’t yet understand’

Lily gulped. Julia’s expression changed completely – she almost looked glum.

‘Of course you’re going to be a witch – just look at you...’ Julia stared at her as if she were wearing a tiara and a diamond necklace.

Lily shook her head violently. She swallowed the last piece of her scone, but too late to interrupt her companion, who was now staring at her, imploring.

‘Will you help me?’ she asked, ‘I really want to be a witch, but Sebastian says that I’m not ruthless enough and that I’m not focused enough. He says I’m only good for fixing and mending things... will you help me...umm... focus?’   

Lily slumped in her chair. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?

‘I’ll try...’ she mumbled, ‘...I really will. But I don’t know what’s going on either. That was just a slip of the tongue’

Julia shook herself and grimaced. She had that look again that Lily was beginning to recognise – an acute awareness of the effect that her actions were having on others.

‘I am such a foolish thing...’ she moaned, but the smile had returned to her face, ‘and I’m really bad at waiting for things!’

Lily smiled back.

‘I’m not good either...’ she admitted, ‘I can’t wait to start learning properly’

Julia pushed back her chair and stood up. She unpinned her hair and it dropped down to just below her hips. She looked striking and just a little scary; Lily thought she looked wonderful – just like a witch ought to be. She reached across the table to touch Lily’s hand.

‘Let’s go and learn to be witches then, Molly...’ she said, ’...and let’s not let anyone stand in our way!’

They finished their tea and went back out into the big world. Neither of them had any idea what they had just started.