Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,60

of the Nether and hidden away from the Irises for good. Deal?”

“Who do you want to find?” Max asked.

“Deal?”

“Yes,” Ekstrand said with an impatient wave of the hand.

“She’s called – or was called – Miss Rainer. She was my governess for about ten years. She died about two years ago.”

“She was involved with the Agency?” Ekstrand asked.

“Duh, of course she was,” the puppet replied, and then her eyebrow twitched. “You do know the Agency provides all the staff, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Ekstrand said, but the puppet looked unconvinced. She was sharp.

Max whispered in the Sorcerer’s ear, concerned that the longer Ekstrand stayed, the more of their ignorance he’d give away. “I think I should take it from here, sir.”

Ekstrand nodded and stood up. “The Arbiter will deal with the details. I’m needed elsewhere.”

The puppet nodded slowly, watching him leave, then looked at Max once the door to the rest of the house was shut and locked.

“All right,” Max said. “So where do I find the Rosas?”

She smiled. “At the Agency. They were rounded up the night we all spoilt their party.”

“I knew that already,” Max said. “I need more.”

“If that’s the case, why not just go and demand a search? Why bother to ask me for help?” She leaned forwards, the smile widening. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

“No, we don’t,” said the gargoyle.

“Go outside,” Max said to it.

“She knows already, stop treating her like an idiot. There’s no time for this crap,” it replied. It went and sat next to her. It smiled and lowered its head, inviting a scratch behind the ears that she gave readily whilst smirking at Max.

“He’s right,” she said. “OK, how about this: I tell you what I know about the Agency and help you to track down their headquarters and in return you bring me the information on Miss Rainer.”

“There’s no other way to get to a Rosa?”

“No,” she replied, but he didn’t believe her.

“It would save time if there was.”

“There isn’t.” She said it firmly enough to convince him she’d have to be persuaded in an unpleasant way to tell him. “Look, this way is mutually beneficial and we can start as early as tomorrow. I’ll send a note to their rep. Give me something to put in his bag or pocket, something you can track through the Nether. Have you got something like that?”

He nodded. “I’ll get one and send it via your uncle, with instructions. I take it that method is still secure?”

“Yep. OK, the Agency…”

He listened as she described her understanding of the Agency and her interactions with its representative. He didn’t ask any questions or request any clarifications, letting his silence prompt her to speak more. When she was done, the puppet stood, brushed the gargoyle’s cheek with her thumb and went back towards the place in the wall she came through. “Are you going to open a Way for me?”

He retrieved the Opener from its resting place under his chair and struggled to his feet.

“We’ll do this as quick as we can,” the gargoyle said as Max hobbled over. “Don’t let that husband bully you into anything.”

She didn’t reply, just looked sadly at the stone creature. “You’re sweet,” she said finally and kissed the top of its head as Max drove the Opener’s pin into the wall. She gave him one last glance after he opened it and went through.

When the Way was closed and the Opener was back in his pocket, Max turned to the gargoyle. “I’m not sure that’s how good cop, bad cop is supposed to go.”

The gargoyle’s shrug was made impressive by its huge stone shoulders. “I felt sorry for her.”

“That’s what they’re good at making people do. It’s called manipulation.”

12

Will watched Catherine fiddle with the fingers of her gloves, newly made in a warm shade of gold silk. “Try not to be so nervous.”

“You say that after spending most of the afternoon coaching me and saying how important it is every five minutes.”

“Well, I felt you should know.” He twisted the cane; her nervous energy was leaching into him. “And you learned practically everything the first time so there’s nothing to worry about on that front.”

“A bunch of names and anecdotes is hardly quantum physics. Sorry, you were trying to be nice again, weren’t you?”

He sighed. “I’m trying to reassure you. You seem to need it.”

“Look, I told you that I was a bad match. I told my family and no one listened. Just don’t go postal on me when