Modern Magick

Alchemy and Argent: 11

'We need to go back to the Elvyngs,' I said to Jay perhaps half an hour later, when we were once more on the right side — the human side — of the boundary between Yorkshire and Aylligranir. 'Bet you a year's salary Cicily had some moonsilver paraphernalia from her father, and another year's salary the Elvyngs have hung onto it.'

'No bet,' said Jay. 'It's too obvious.'

He offered nothing else, only walked along beside me, collar turned up against the drizzle of summer rain that now watered the hillside. He'd been quiet ever since our first introduction to the queen, and remained so now.

I'd had to wrestle with myself. I'd been so tempted to excuse myself on some small pretext, dash back to the library and find out who Jay's Yllanfalen grandfather was. I told myself I'd be doing it for him: that I could, someday when he changed his mind, hand him the answer to this family puzzle. He would be pleased. Right?

But that wasn't the real reason I was tempted, or it wasn't the whole reason. My cursed curiosity had got hold of that little mystery and refused to let go.

And I didn't quite understand Jay's thinking. How could he not want to know? How could he be within seconds of finding out who he was, and pass it up?

The man puzzled me. Exceedingly.

I took out my phone, by way of distracting myself, and typed furiously. Val needed to know everything we'd learned, and quickly.

I ended with:

Hoping we have a cryptographer at Home?

I got a response within seconds, the prompt buzzing of my phone making me jump.

Val said: Yes. Also we have Crystobel Elvyng at Home.

'Whaaaat,' I gasped, and showed Jay. 'Quick, Whirly Wizard. To the library!'

'I know this is going to sound weird,' he said. 'Coming from me, that is, instead of you. But do you suppose we could eat first?'

'Note to self,' I said, looking uselessly around at the rolling hillside notably unadorned with cafe or shop. 'Do not starve the Waymaster. Erm, you don't happen to know of a village hereabouts, do you?'

Jay merely pointed.

'Right.' I set off down the hill in the direction indicated, heading for cake and glory, and Jay trudged manfully along beside me.

We were not much more than an hour delayed before we reached home. I'd stuffed Jay with a stack of sandwiches and scones and myself with a piece of cake — just the one, I occasionally have some sense of proportion I swear — and thus revived, he'd managed the return trip smoothly enough. We emerged in the preserved henge in the cellar at Home, and I clattered straight up the stairs.

Jay followed at a more sedate — weary? — pace. As such, I had thirty whole seconds to stare my fill at Crystobel Elvyng before he caught up with me.

She was seated in the library with Val. Not languishing in front of the head librarian's big, imposing desk, the way most of us do. The matriarch of the Elvyng dynasty merited the red carpet treatment. There's a handsome fireplace with a brick surround in the main hall of the library, flanked by a pair of silver brocade chairs. I don't think I have ever seen a fire lit in that hearth; there is no earthly way Val would risk the books like that, however cold it may be. I have never seen the chairs used, either.

Until today. Val had taken possession of one, and her august guest sat at her ease in the other.

I received a peculiar impression of there being a third presence in the room, which was probably House. The building mostly leaves us to get on with things, but once in a while it takes an interest.