by I sat up very straight, electrified. ‘The isle disappeared! An entire island! Impossible!’
‘Apparently not,’ said Alban.
‘But then, its location was known initially?’
‘Mm. It was said to lie about three and a half miles off the Yorkshire coast, about due east from the town of Scarborough.’
‘But had it always been there? I’ve never heard of an island in those parts.’
‘There certainly hasn’t been for the past four hundred years. And there is no reason to imagine that it was a large island.’
‘Even so.’ My mind was awhirl at the prospect, but so was my scepticism. ‘I know that Waymasters used to be a lot more powerful, and clearly they could — and can — move buildings around. But so far, they’re small ones. Cottages and modest farmhouses.’
‘And the spire,’ put in Zareen.
‘Right, but even that isn’t so huge a place. An entire island, though? A spit of land? I’m not sure I believe it.’
‘Islands have been known to move about before,’ said the Baron. ‘Come loose and float away.’
‘Fixed or not, it’s still a big land mass. If it was habitable, it must have been at least a few miles square. How many Waymasters working together would it take to move all that? Surely it cannot be done.’
‘And yet,’ said the Baron. ‘As far as the official enquiry records, it was gone.’
‘They couldn’t prove that it was gone,’ I pointed out. ‘All they meant was, they couldn’t find it. Perhaps it was not gone, but hidden.’
The Baron inclined his head, ceding the point.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so resistant to the idea that an island had physically moved. A few weeks ago, the idea that a two-room cottage could waltz off had seemed impossible.
‘So the island existed,’ I mused. ‘And while we are not certain that the isle mentioned by Talbot Makepeace was the same one, it seems likely. Everything fits. So it was probably still there — or still somewhere — over a century and a half later, and somebody lured Millie there. Perhaps the same somebody who had awoken her Waymaster abilities in the first place, and bound her into the farmhouse.’
‘But is the isle still there now?’ said Zareen.
Melmidoc had rushed off to answer that same question. Had he succeeded in finding his lost isle? Or was it gone, sunk beneath the waves long ago?
If it was still there, was Millie still in the habit of frequenting the place?
Was that where she had taken Jay?
If it was, and the Baron’s theory was correct, then the island could be anywhere. It didn’t even have to be in British waters anymore. It could be lurking off the coast of New Zealand, or somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
Under the circumstances, I preferred my theory.
‘I’m going to see George,’ Zareen suddenly announced.
‘What—’ I began, but she was already striding away in the direction of the Scarlet Courtyard.
‘Meet you at the party,’ she called back.
‘Right,’ I said, taken aback.
The Baron raised an eyebrow.
I could only shrug. ‘I do not know what’s going on with them.’
‘By the looks of it, I’d say a lot.’
‘Zar knows what she’s doing.’
‘She does have the look of a formidable woman.’ The Baron was twinkling at me again, damn him, which was as much as to say that I didn’t.
Probably a fair observation, what with my daffodil hair. I straightened my spine a bit more, and rose with dignity to my feet. ‘I have an alternative theory,’ I told him.
‘To my wild reports of wandering isles?’
‘Yes. I need to see Val. Are you game for a sneak-in?’
‘Sneaking into Home? Has it come to that? I thought you left on decent terms.’ Did I imagine the slight emphasis he’d put on the word left? As though he was making air quotes in his mind while he said it.
‘If you call defying Milady’s orders about the spire decent behaviour, then yes, we left on excellent terms.’
That was definitely a smile lurking about his lips. ‘As you say,’ he said mildly.
I gave a sigh. ‘It was Garrogin, wasn’t it?’
‘He did seem to think that you and Jay made a perfect picture of loyalty. The way he told it, well. I wish my staff were half as loyal.’
‘Curse him.’
‘Their Majesties have already done so.’
The twin curse of a pair of powerful troll royals ought to be a bit more effective than mine, so I let Lord Garrogin be.
Truth to tell, I was a bit uneasy about going back Home again so soon. I knew Milady would not mind in principle, but in practice? Our masquerade had already proved to be paper-thin. It was stupid to jeopardise it further by sauntering back Home just as though we still belonged there. It would have to be subterfuge.
Which is a tall order, because our House’s security measures are deservedly legendary. Why do you think Ancestria Magicka went to so much trouble to get their claws into Miranda? It isn’t like they could just send over a spy. They either had to get someone of their own recruited by Milady, or convert an existing Society employee; there were no other options. If Milady had revoked my access to Home, then there was no way I was getting in. Or the Baron either.
So it was with some trepidation — and some bitter feelings — that I approached the environs of our beloved House late that morning, riding as passenger in the Baron’s beautiful sleek car. We parked just outside the entrance, and the fact that I could still see the handsome double gates reassured me a little. First layer of security: it is tricky to break into a place you cannot find.
I had the sense not to waltz in at the front gate; instead, we circled around to a side-door into the grounds, and slipped through. Nothing was barred, and nobody tried to stop us. The walk from there into the House itself was a short one, just down a narrow passageway lined with hedgerows, across the narrowest part of the shrubbery, and then in at the door.
Hopefully.
Beloved House. I had been banished from it for only a handful of days, and yet I experienced a piercing sense of loss as I walked up to the door and gazed wistfully up at its ancient walls. Not just Home, but my home, and for the past decade. Place of work, place of abode, place of everything. A small part of me harboured the fear that, one way or another, I might never be able to come properly Home again.
But that was foolish. This was just an assignment, like any other. Once we had established the truth (or lack thereof) about the spire, the island and the whole prospect of time travel, we would be able to return.
‘Morning, House,’ I said with a bright smile, and knocked lightly upon the heavy oak door. ‘Is it all right if we go in to see Val?’
The door was unlatching even as I spoke, its bolts rattling as they drew back. Before I’d even got as far as uttering Val’s name, the door swung wide open with a cheerful creak. Was I being fanciful in interpreting it as a welcoming sound?
I went inside, laying a hand briefly upon the white-plastered wall as I went past. ‘I miss you too,’ I told the dear old place.
Baron Alban followed me into the passage. We were in what had once been the servants’ wing of the house; the old scullery was to our left, and on the right were the pantries. Some of those were still used to store food. ‘Do you and the House always chat like that?’ asked the Baron.
‘Yes, always.’ I spoke absently, for it occurred to me that my plan had been limited. All right, we were inside: but how were we to make it as far as the library without passing at least a few people?
I trod softly to the end of the passage and peeked around the corner. No one in sight, yet, but a couple of passages and a few corners down that way, we’d enter the library complex, and it was a popular spot. There was no way we could sneak—
‘Ves!’ said Val.
I whirled.
She was right behind me, ensconced as usual in her majestic green velvet chair. She did not look so perfectly turned out as usual; her upswept dark hair was tumbling down a bit at the back, and her clothes had the rumpled look that suggested “freshly pressed” was an increasingly distant memory. ‘Val?’ I blurted. ‘I was just—’
‘Coming to find me. I know, House brought me. Bloody hell, Ves, where have you been?’
‘We’ve been—’
‘I mean, I know the official story but I’ve never heard so much crap in my life. As if you or Zareen would ditch us like that! Or Jay either!’
‘I know, but it was necessary to—’
‘I’ve missed you.’ They might have been pleasant words but Val spat them out like they were the gravest insults, her eyes flashing fire.
‘Val.’ I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I thought Milady would have told you everything, I—’ It occurred to me that we were not exactly in a secure location, so I shut up. ‘Can we get somewhere quiet?’
Only then did Val notice the Baron, who had been loitering at a polite distance from us both. He sauntered up with a show of non-threatening casualness, and graced her with one of his courtlier bows.
Val’s eyes went very wide. I tried to remember whether she had ever met the Baron in person before, and concluded that she probably had not.
He did tend to have an impact.
‘This is Baron Alban, from the Court,’ I said, to cover her silence.
Val held out a hand. ‘It is a pleasure to meet any representative of Their Majesties of Mandridore, but do you mind if I ask what you’re doing here?’
The Baron shook Val’s hand with a smile. ‘Helping Ves, actually.’
Val gave me a roguish look that said well-I-never, but her voice was steely again when she spoke. ‘If you steal Ves away to Mandridore, Baron, I shall never forgive you.’
‘Understood.’
‘In fact, the entire Society will swarm Their Majesties’ gates in order to fetch her back.’
Alban saluted gravely.
I was touched.
‘Right,’ Val said, more crisply. ‘House, dear. Somewhere private for the three of us?’
A door opened silently in the wall to Val’s left. A door that had not been there a moment before.
Val’s wing-back chair floated serenely through it, and the Baron and I followed.
