Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,131
planning to,” he replied and went up to his room.
Max had just got comfortable when the door opened. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, he already knew what it was.
The gargoyle came to the bedside, still silent thanks to the new formulae. “I want to make sure Cathy is all right. I want us to go to Mundanus and find out whether she made it.”
“No.”
“But–”
“Either she died or she’s just badly injured. Either way there’s nothing to be done about it.”
The gargoyle couldn’t argue with that. “What will the Sorcerer do with Thorn?”
“Probably post him back to Exilium when he’s sure we don’t need him anymore.”
“It was awful, what you did.”
Max opened his eyes and turned to face the stone frown. “It was a means to an end.” The gargoyle said nothing. Max closed his eyes again. “I’m going to sleep. If you want to be upset go somewhere else.”
“Easy for you to say.” The gargoyle left him to sleep.
Will inspected his finery and checked that his hair and close shave were perfect and his sword and scabbard positioned correctly. He briefly fingered the elegant pommel, remembering the day it was presented to him by his father. A week later he’d set off on his Grand Tour with it secreted in his luggage, protected by a Charm to ensure no mundane saw it. He wore it in various Maharajas’ courts in India, in the great Salon at São Paulo, at the costumed ball in New York and in the Parisian Court. He’d never had to actually use it and he’d never worn it to Exilium before, but his instinct told him he needed to make a point, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to see justice done.
On the Tour he’d seen examples of mundane justice, from people being arrested for drunken behaviour in Crete to people being beaten by a local drug lord in South America. Whilst Oliver had been laid up with a dreadful cold, Will had spent a rather interesting evening chatting to a man released from prison after a ten-year sentence in the American Midwest. The stories the man had told him would stay with Will for the rest of his life. They made him glad he was only visiting their world and not actually living in it.
In Society justice was dispensed in a variety of ways, depending on the city one lived in and the family one belonged to, and was settled by duels more often than not. The situation with Bartholomew was complicated by the fact that there was no Duke in Londinium to address the grievance. It was of such severity that Will didn’t feel he could approach the Marquis of Westminster, and besides, he wanted to deal with it directly. If he was going to confront a man two hundred and twenty-five years his senior, one who was likely to be the next Duke of Londinium, Will wanted to be sure he had the blessing of his patron.
When he was satisfied his appearance was acceptable Will took a deep breath and said to the mirror, “Lord Iris, I beg an audience with you.”
The glass rippled immediately, suggesting his request had been expected, and rapidly shifted from a wavering reflection of his dressing room to a view into Exilium. Will stepped through.
He’d been to Exilium twice before and even though he was expecting it the beauty of the place still amazed him. He could see the copse of trees ahead and a blue iris bobbing in the gentle breeze. The air was fresh and filled with fragrance. Will permitted himself one moment to appreciate it before moving forwards, remembering to keep the desire to speak to his patron foremost in his mind.
The path through the trees was clear and he walked purposefully, not too quickly, not too slowly.
Will heard a raised voice as he went further into the copse.
“I gave her to you in good faith. You knew she was my favourite, you knew how special she is, and yet you let this happen?”
Lord Poppy. Will hadn’t expected him to be there.
“I did not allow her to be attacked. Don’t be absurd,” Lord Iris replied, his voice just as even and cold as it ever was. “She was in Mundanus. I’m flattered you assume everything is under my control, but it’s not.”
“Why was she there? Mundanus smells and she should be with your boy making beautiful babies, not amongst the unwashed and ugly!”