we’re not exactly a shining example,” the gargoyle said, sharing his thoughts. “Corrupted by Titanium, soul walking around in an animated gargoyle, walks with a limp. This country is going to the dogs, no doubt about it.” When Max didn’t reply, it waved its muzzle at his bad leg. “We’re not going to tell the Sorcerer about the Titanium in that gammy leg of yours, are we?”
Max shook his head. “He has enough to work on at the moment. And it hasn’t been a problem so far.”
“So far,” the gargoyle muttered. “Let’s face it. We’re screwed.”
Max didn’t disagree. He’d had plans to establish a new chapter, but never having been involved with the running of his home Chapter, he had very little idea of what was involved. He knew fieldwork, nothing more. Dozens of people used to support his work, giving him briefings on changes in Mundanus, tracking criminal activity so trends could be observed over hundreds of years, and keeping meticulous records on breaches of the Split Worlds Treaty. How could he train someone to do all that?
And there was the simple issue of staff recruitment. The researchers he’d known had been people exposed to Fae magic or rescued from Exilium, those who could no longer be called innocents. They were taken in, debriefed, and trained, he knew that much. But the gulf between knowing the broad strokes of how it worked and the details of finding, caring for, and training such people was beyond him. Even if someone else cared for them in a practical way, Max had no idea what skills the training would need to cover. Only now did he appreciate just how complex a machine the previous Bath Chapter had been. But by the time he had arrived there, the Bath Chapter had existed for a thousand years or so. Surely the beginning had been just as difficult for them?
The lift bell dinged in the hallway just off the office. The gargoyle scampered off to the bathroom as Max went into the hallway, the click of his walking stick echoing with each step.
The doors slid open and Rupert stepped out, a young woman following him. She was in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and eyes. She wore her hair in a messy ponytail and was dressed in jeans, walking boots, and a thick padded jacket. As soon as she stepped out of the lift she dumped her huge rucksack with audible relief.
“Max, you’re here, awesome,” Rupert said, pulling off his gloves and woolly hat. “Bloody cold out there.” He turned to the girl. “Kay, this is Max. He sort of works for me. Max, this is Kay Hyde, from Oxford. She’s our first recruit.”
Kay hung back for a moment, staring at Max, probably trying to work out why he seemed wrong. He was used to this reaction from strangers. Living without a soul tended to make an Arbiter unpleasant to look at and to be around. She lurched forward after a few seconds, as if remembering her manners, and extended her hand to him. He shook it quickly and let go, noting her shudder.
“First recruit? Which family took her? How long ago?”
“Eh?” Rupert looked momentarily confused and then realised what Max was talking about. “Oh! She hasn’t been taken by anyone. I knew her at Oxford. Best brain in the city if you ask me. Got a first at Trinity in English Lit, but let’s face it, any sod can do that.” He smirked at her and she jabbed him in the ribs.
“Piss off! I worked bloody hard for that.”
“And she is the fucking bomb when it comes to riddles, wordplay, and linguistic sneaky sneakster stuff. Near eidetic memory and descended from Edward Hyde, no less.” When Max failed to give any response to that, he added, “Grandfather of Queen Anne and bloody clever bloke to boot.”
Max frowned. “Queen Anne was a puppet of the Tulipas.”
“That’s ancient history,” Rupert said, shrugging off his coat. “No worries on that front.”
Kay went to the doorway into the office space. “Nice. Oh wow, what a great view!”
Max went to Rupert’s side as she went across the room to the window. Max moved round to the other side of the partition separating the area containing the lifts from the main office space, lowering his voice after Rupert had followed him. “Sir, am I to understand she is still innocent?”
“I can’t speak for her universal innocence; we’re just friends, but assuming you mean the Fae or their puppets,