by I was later comforted to recall that I still had an appointment with “the best fence in the industry.” Hey, you never know how things are going to turn out. If Sally had fenced the stolen grimoire, or knew who had, we could have answers right away. We wouldn’t need Jay’s fake auction. I left for the meeting with high hopes.
And Sally turned out to be nothing like I expected.
I mean, really. You talk of a legendary dealer in stolen magickal artefacts, I picture somebody shady-looking, possibly rather greasy. Someone used to a life of skulking in the shadows, evading the law. Someone who in some way looks the part.
I arrived — alone — at the location Val gave me for the meeting, dressed in my best meeting-master-criminals ensemble. That being a dark-coloured dress, smart but not too smart, and power heels. I didn’t bother changing the powder-blue colour of my hair. The best fence in the business had to have a strong stomach. She couldn’t be easily perturbed by little things like eccentric hair choices.
Sally had agreed to meet me at a tiny coffee shop in a remote town I’ve agreed to leave nameless. Partly because it isn’t far from Home, the location of which is not for public consumption; partly because it isn’t far from Sally’s base of operations either. The meeting was set for ten in the morning, and when I arrived, the shop was duly deserted. Only one other patron was in evidence when I walked in: a stout man parked in a far corner, laptop open, headphones on, a tall latte set at his elbow.
Probably not Sally, I decided, and sat down with my mocha on the other side of the room, right by the window. We were hurtling towards September, and the weather was beginning to reflect that: the morning was overcast and drizzling with rain, and I watched a procession of miserable-looking people in drenched t-shirts pass by.
Sally turned out to have one characteristic one might expect of a master criminal: stealth. Intent as I was upon the people out on the cobbled street, I still didn’t notice anybody turn in at the door to the coffee shop, and make her way over to my table. I merely became aware, all of a sudden, that I was no longer alone.
I slowly turned my head.
My new table-mate was Yllanfalen. That shocked me more than it ought; after all, just because they’re improbably beautiful doesn’t mean they can’t be morally compromised, does it? Sally was about my mother’s age, at least in appearance, but not one iota less gorgeous for it. Her silver hair was upswept, and secured with jewelled combs; she wore the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes with superb grace; and the smile she directed at me might be called devastating.
I was intrigued to notice that she had totally eschewed the smart-but-not-too-smart look that I’d chosen, opting instead for a dazzling peacock-blue dress and the most stunning black velvet coat.
Okay, nothing about Sally suggested she had any interest in skulking. Far from trying to pass unnoticed, she positively invited attention.
‘Sally?’ I said, realising belatedly that I had no idea of her surname.
She inclined her head, and sipped delicately at the coffee I hadn’t seen her purchase. Espresso. Strong, black and uncompromising.
‘You are Valerie’s friend?’ she said, in one of those melodious Yllanfalen voices.
I tell you, these people make you feel like such a crow. I cleared my throat. ‘That’s me. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.’
She nodded, subjecting me to a casual scrutiny that didn’t fool me for a second. Her seemingly idle gaze swept over me and missed nothing. ‘And how may I help you, Ms. Vesper?’
I tried not to glance theatrically around the coffee shop to check for anyone listening in, then stagily lower my voice to talk to my companion. Honestly, nothing says “we are up to no good” more obviously than that. But it is so hard to help it when you’re up to your eyeballs in nefarious deeds.
Emulating her effortless poise instead, I said: ‘We are attempting to track down an item that went missing four years ago. It’s of some importance that it is retrieved.’
‘And when you retrieve it?’ she said. ‘What then will you do?’
‘We aren’t particularly interested in how the, er, transferral of ownership was effected, or by whose hand,’ I said, conscious that she might have friends and contacts to protect. ‘The item must return into the possession of its original owner. That’s all we want.’
‘Are you the original owner?’
I shook my head.
‘Then what is in it for you?’ She looked me over again. ‘You are not an investigator of crimes, I think?’
‘I work with Valerie,’ I said. ‘I’m not usually for hire in such cases, this is true. But the owner of this missing thing made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.’
There was a pause. I imagined her weighing up the option of pumping me for further information, which I very much hoped she wouldn’t. I could not tell her about the argent; what might not such a person demand, if she understood its existence?
‘The Society’s goals are ever enigmatic,’ she murmured, sipping coffee.
‘Not really. We rescue endangered magickal things. If we have to bend a few rules to do it, we will.’
Something like amusement sparked in her limpid green eyes. ‘And you have no such questions to put to me?’
‘I could ask you why you agreed to this meeting,’ I conceded. ‘And I could express all manner of curiosity as to your business. But all I really want to know is: were you involved in finding a new home for a certain priceless grimoire, about four years ago?’
‘Grimoires often come up,’ she said, setting down her empty cup. ‘Some more valuable than others. A priceless one, however? I take it you do not exaggerate.’
‘Only a little. It has been sold in living memory, so someone has put a price on it.’ When I named the price in question, her eyebrows lifted. Just a fraction.
‘I know of only a few spell-books that could command such a price,’ she said.
My curiosity fired up at once. A few? What were the others? Where were the others?
But I controlled myself. Stick to the mission, Ves. Get the job done. ‘Have any of them changed hands in the last few years?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
My heart sank. ‘Nothing linked to a rather famous chap known as Merlin?’ I tried.
The eyebrows went up again. ‘That one, was it?’ She pursed her lips, an expression of — strangely — displeasure crossing her serene face. Then she said, very softly, ‘I did not know it had been stolen.’
The fact that so major a theft had occurred outside of her range of influence evidently irritated her.
‘Something like that would normally reach your ears, would it?’ I said.
She inclined her head. ‘So much so that—’ She stopped, and after a pause, went on. ‘You are certain that it was stolen, are you?’
‘Its owners have asserted that it was.’
‘No private sale? With these old families, there can be embarrassment about straitened circumstances. Perhaps they might rather term it stolen, than admit it was sold for cash?’
‘You might be right,’ I allowed, not choosing to go into the question of the Elvyngs’ wealth. ‘But if so, why would they contract us to find it again? Why not let it quietly be forgotten?’ And they offered a truly princely reward, too. That the Elvyngs might be strapped for cash must be unthinkable.
Her brow contracted into a frown. She said nothing, appearing abstracted. I suppose she was questioning how such a spectacular theft could have been conducted without her ever hearing of it.
That she was genuinely nonplussed was beyond question. I’d completely stymied her.
‘I have nothing to tell you,’ she said abruptly. ‘And that ought not be possible.’
I didn’t know what to say, so I drained the dregs of my mocha and waited.
‘I will make enquiries,’ she decided. The dark frown hadn’t lifted from her brow. ‘If I hear of anything relevant to you, I shall inform Valerie.’
She gave me scant opportunity to respond to this, for in another moment she was gone, whisking out of the coffee shop with the straight-backed, bristling posture of a seriously displeased woman.
Did she imagine someone had been deliberately hiding things from her? I had no idea what her operation might be like.
Clearly, though, someone was in for a bad afternoon.
‘Well,’ I said aloud, and looked about me. The meeting hadn’t gone as I was hoping, but perhaps it had not been a total loss either. If anybody could find out some titbit of information about that theft, it must be someone with connections like Sally’s.
In the meantime, we had a pretend auction to launch.
‘Indira,’ I said late that evening. ‘You’re a genius. I hope your brother tells you that every day.’
Jay’s insanely talented sister ducked her head, unable to hide her pleased smile, but unwilling to show it off either. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered.
Honestly, the girl is amazing. She must be twentyish, but seems much younger — partly due to that persistent shyness, and a tendency to try to be invisible. But young as she is (or looks), there’s no end to her brilliancies. Someday she’s going to be a magickal legend.
On this occasion, she had thrilled me by bringing our new “Merlin’s Wand” to the first-floor common room, where Jay and I were holed up for the evening. There are two particularly excellent arm-chairs in there, positioned on either side of a long window. They’re plushy and huge and one of them is mine. The other is Jay’s. We often sit up there in the evenings, watching the sun sink over the verdant grounds at Home, and drinking more chocolate than is good for us.
Indira has obviously figured us out by now. I spotted her slip into the room, and thread her way unerringly through the various clusters of chairs and coffee-tables, some of them occupied, on her way to our corner. She hadn’t even checked to make sure we were there before she headed our way.
‘It’s perfect,’ Jay said, excellent big brother that he is. He had it in his hands as he spoke, and I swear I could believe that exquisite thing had once belonged to someone extraordinarily powerful. Amber and bone. Rich, deep gold, and aged ivory-white. She’d crafted these materials into a Wand of remarkable beauty: slender, tapering, coiled and embossed, mounted into a gold filigree handle. Magick radiated from it, together with a palpable sense of antiquity. How had she contrived that?
No wonder she’d been recruited straight into Orlando’s secret lab.
‘I want to keep it,’ I said. ‘Can I keep it?’
Jay rolled his eyes at me.
‘Um, maybe after the auction’s finished,’ said Indira.
I sat up. ‘Really. Really? I could?’
She blinked, alarmed. ‘Um — maybe if Milady says…?’
Right. Milady’s call. I sank back down again. ‘Well, you’ve outdone yourself, and I applaud you. We shouldn’t have too much trouble passing off this beauty as Merlin-ware.’
Jay snorted with laughter. ‘Merlin-ware? Watch out for her, Indira. She’ll have you crafting up an entire line of Merlin-themed paraphernalia in no time.’
‘The Society’s always in need of more funding,’ I said. ‘You can’t tell me Indira-designed Merlin-ware wouldn’t fly off the shelves.’
‘Someone’s been spending too much time in the Elvyng Emporium,’ Jay muttered.
‘I maintain that they’re onto something with that place.’
Indira bent over our glass-topped coffee table, and made an imperious gesture in the direction of the velvet-lined box she’d brought the Wand in. Jay, to my fascination, obediently put the pretty thing back.
‘You’re taking it away?’ I said. ‘Already?’
‘Valerie needs it,’ she said. ‘It’s got to be photographed and filmed.’
Right, for the fake provenance records Val would be industriously spreading around online. ‘Pics for the rumour mill!’ I said. ‘I love my job.’
Jay exchanged a look with Indira. I could not flatter myself that it was a look of shared admiration for me. ‘I get results,’ I said defensively.
‘Are we forgetting that this particular mad plan was my concoction?’ said Jay.
‘You’re right.’ I picked up my empty chocolate cup and toasted Jay with it. ‘Here’s to my unholy influence rubbing off on you.’
Indira, surprisingly, grinned.
