The Emperor of All Things (58 page)

‘I am as innocent as you are,’ Quare said. ‘I, too, was meant to be a scapegoat for these heinous crimes, but I escaped … with the help of Grimalkin here – the real Grimalkin.’

‘Why would a thief help you escape?’

‘He is no thief, any more than I am a murderer.’

‘Then who …?’

‘Aylesford,’ Quare said. ‘He confessed as much to me across swords, but I was unable to dispatch him. He is the traitor – a Scottish loyalist in the pay of the French.’

‘Can you prove this?’ Pickens demanded.

‘Alas, no,’ Quare said. ‘I cannot yet clear my name – or yours, for that matter. The conspiracy against us goes beyond the Old Wolf, all the way to Mr Pitt … or so I am reliably informed.’

‘It is true,’ Longinus said. ‘It may well be that His Majesty himself, misled by others, has ordered your sacrifice, Mr Pickens.’

‘Then why have you come here,’ Pickens asked, ‘if not to clear your name? Do you mean to kill the Old Wolf after all?’

‘To answer that would be to unfold a story we do not have the time to tell – nor would you be likely to believe it in any case,’ Quare said.

‘The question is, rather, what shall we do with you, Mr Pickens?’ asked Longinus. ‘We cannot simply render you unconscious, as I had planned, since Mr Quare has revealed himself to you, and you would surely, whether willingly or not, reveal this in turn to the Old Wolf under questioning.’

‘You cannot mean …’

‘I should hate to murder a man in cold blood, especially an innocent man. But I will do so if there is no alternative.’

‘Take me with you,’ Pickens implored. ‘I may be injured, but I can
still
be of help. I dare say I know the guild hall as well if not better than Quare does, and if it comes to a fight, why, I am right-handed and not unskilled with a blade. I am – or, rather, was, as I have now been expelled from the Most Secret and Exalted Order – a regulator. I suppose it can do me no harm to confess that now.’

‘I, too, was a member of that order!’ Quare said. ‘Master Magnus, God rest his soul, recruited me.’

‘As he did me,’ Pickens said with a grin rendered ghastly by the green light and the bruises covering his face. ‘I know I used to tease you about being a regulator, Quare, but I swear it was only as a joke, to deflect any suspicion from myself! I had no inkling that you might really be one!’

‘Nor I you,’ said Quare, grinning himself.

‘Enough,’ Longinus interjected in Grimalkin’s growl. ‘There may be a way. But know this, Mr Pickens: if you betray us by word or deed – or even by thought – I shall know it, and I shall know how to repay it. In that case, you will be the first to die.’

‘I shall give you no cause to doubt me, I swear it,’ said Pickens.

‘We are about the business of the kingdom this night, Mr Quare and I, and the fate of crown and country may well hinge upon our success,’ Longinus said. ‘If you would aid us, then you must swear to obey me without question or hesitation, on your honour as a journeyman of this company, by the oath you swore to be true to His Majesty, so help you God.’

‘I swear it. So help me God.’

‘Very well.’ Longinus put up his dagger and made his way to the back of the cell. There he paused, examining the wall, though Quare could see nothing of note there, just blocks of heavy stone mortared into place. This cell was both smaller and less well appointed than the one in which he had been held: there was no desk, no pallet, no fireplace. Clearly, after his escape, the Old Wolf had intended to take no chances with Pickens.

‘I say, Quare, is it really the fabled Grimalkin?’ Pickens asked him meanwhile in a whisper.

‘None other,’ Quare said.

‘Who is he behind that mask?’

‘I cannot say,’ Quare replied. ‘He is a man of unexpected talents. A regulator, in fact, if you can believe it.’

‘I … scarcely know what to believe any more.’

‘I know the feeling.’

‘Ah, here it is.’ Longinus’s gloved fingers moved over the wall; with a sudden grinding sound that made Quare start, a single block of stone, at chest height, slid into the wall, leaving a hollow space. ‘Mr Quare, Mr Pickens, if you please, gentlemen.’

The two men glanced at each other and then approached Longinus.

‘I am no stranger to this place,’ he said, addressing Pickens. ‘As Mr Quare has told you, I, too, have been a regulator in my time, recruited, like yourself, by Master Magnus.’ As he spoke, he reached into the hollow, then withdrew his hand.

Pickens stepped back with a cry as a narrow section of wall, extending from floor to ceiling, pivoted in silence, like a door swinging on oiled hinges, to produce an opening where none had been before. Quare, who had by now almost come to expect such surprises where Longinus was concerned, looked on with curiosity. Was this another stair-master?

‘Every cell has its secrets,’ said Longinus. ‘The guild hall is riddled with hidden rooms and passages added piecemeal over the centuries by men whose names have been as thoroughly forgotten as their constructs – but not by me. Thus I have prepared these cells against the eventuality of my ever being imprisoned here.’ He stepped into the opening, taking the wan light with him, which dwindled and then winked out altogether.

Pickens’s voice wavered out of the dark. ‘Where has he gone, Quare? What the devil is he up to? Does he mean to abandon us?’

Grimalkin’s gruff voice replied from within the wall before Quare could answer. ‘Quiet, Mr Pickens. From this moment, you will say nothing unless it is in reply to a question I have asked you.’

The light reappeared, a distant, solitary star whose shine increased until Longinus emerged back into the cell. In his arms he carried a dark bundle. ‘Mr Quare, you will help Mr Pickens into these clothes.’

Pickens looked somewhat sceptical at this but did not protest or speak a word as, with Quare’s help, he dressed himself in the clothing
provided
. His torn and bloodstained clothes he handed to Longinus, who, pinching them between his fingers with evident distaste, flung them into the opening, where they vanished as if into an abyss.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Longinus when at last Pickens was fully dressed, ‘your masks, if you please.’

Quare tugged his mask into place; Pickens did likewise; and suddenly three Grimalkins stood in the cell where only two had entered.

Longinus studied Pickens thoughtfully. ‘You’ll do, Mr Pickens. I do not trust you sufficiently to provide you with a weapon, but if all goes well you shall not need one, and if things go badly the lack is not likely to matter much. Now, sir, have you heard or seen aught of an unusual watch in the possession of the Old Wolf – a hunter, in point of fact?’

‘N-no,’ stammered Pickens.

‘That watch is our objective,’ Longinus said. ‘It will likely be hidden, in which case an extra pair of eyes will not go amiss.’

‘What does it look like?’

‘Mr Quare?’ Longinus invited.

‘It appears at first to be an ordinary pocket watch,’ Quare said. ‘Its casing is of silver, but without outward embellishment or ornamentation. Yet two peculiarities are evident upon closer inspection. First, the watch is unusually thin. Second, it lacks a stem or indeed any winding mechanism. Should you find it, do not open it for anything.’

‘If you find it, Mr Pickens, you are to alert Mr Quare or me at once,’ Longinus added. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Absolutely … and yet not at all. What is the significance of this watch? Does it hold some secret message?’

‘Perhaps we shall take you more deeply into our confidence once you have proved yourself worthy of it. But that is all you need to know at present. And now, gentlemen, let us return to the matter at hand. I will take the lead; Mr Pickens, you will follow; Mr Quare, you will bring up the rear. Remember: not a word, not a sound. You will keep your dagger to hand, Mr Quare, and if it seems to you that Mr Pickens is about to betray us in any way, you will use it at once, without hesitation.’

‘I won’t,’ Pickens said.

Quare nodded, his mouth dry.

Longinus stepped past them, to the door of the cell, where he listened for a moment before opening it and slipping out into the hallway. Pickens followed, then Quare, who closed the door behind him. Regarding the grey shape before him, Quare drew his dagger, wondering if he could really stab the man in the back should it prove necessary. He hoped he would not have to find out.

Longinus led them to the end of the corridor, where a large, heavy door blocked their passage. He put his ear to it, and, after a moment, satisfied, produced the key that had opened the door to Pickens’s cell; it proved effective here as well. They passed through in single file, Quare again bringing up the rear and closing the door behind him.

In the excitement of finding Pickens, the song of the hunter had faded to the back of Quare’s mind. Now it surged forward again, louder and more insistent, as if some fresh urgency had arisen. He did not know how to communicate this to Longinus without speaking, and yet he did not dare say a word; they had entered a more frequently travelled area of the guild hall, one lit by candles burning in sconces, though this passage was deserted now. Ancient oil paintings and tapestries decorated the walls, their subjects faded to mere suggestions of shape and colour.

Longinus glided like a fog across the floor. Pickens could not match him but acquitted himself well enough, as did Quare, whose attention was divided between the summons only he could hear and the back of the man he might at any moment be called upon to murder.

They traversed one corridor, then another, then climbed a flight of stairs, all without encountering a soul. But just as they reached the top of the stairs and entered another candlelit hallway, this one lined with doors, a man came around the far corner, short and rotund, waddling with haste. It was Master Malrubius, the Old Wolf’s sycophant and shadow.

Malrubius stopped short at the sight of them, as did the armed servant who stepped into view beside him an instant later. Quare and Pickens also froze, but Longinus accelerated.

Quick as lightning, two blurs shot down the corridor; each found its mark, and the two men stiffened and collapsed before they could cry out a warning or indeed make any sound at all. By the time they hit the
floor
, Longinus was kneeling beside them to retrieve what he had thrown. He glanced up as Quare and Pickens arrived at a run, putting a finger to his mask for silence.

‘Have you killed them?’ Pickens demanded in a breathless whisper.

‘They are merely unconscious,’ said Longinus.

‘Good.’ With no more warning than that, Pickens drew back his boot and delivered a vicious kick to the unprotected face of Master Malrubius. And then another. Quare heard the crack of the man’s nose breaking. By which time he had resheathed his blade and locked his arms about Pickens from behind, pinning his arms to his chest and hauling him back.

‘Let me go!’ Pickens said, still whispering, though he did not struggle to free himself. ‘My arm—’

He fell silent as Longinus, who had risen to his feet, stepped up and laid the edge of a dagger against his throat.

‘You are making me regret my decision, Mr Pickens,’ he said.

‘You saw what that swine did to me,’ Pickens gasped out in reply. ‘He doesn’t deserve to live. Give me a dagger and I’ll finish the job.’

‘We have not come here to murder anyone if we can help it,’ Longinus said. ‘Personal vendettas have no place in our mission. If you cannot restrain your temper, I shall have no choice but to give you the same treatment I have already administered to these gentlemen.’

It was a moment before Pickens replied. He sighed, and Quare felt the tension drain from his body. ‘Very well, Grimalkin. I’ll put vengeance aside … for now.’

‘Let him go, Mr Quare,’ Longinus said. Quare did so. Yet Longinus had not removed his dagger, and thus Pickens did not dare to so much as twitch.

‘This is the last interruption I will countenance,’ Longinus said, gazing into the other man’s eyes. ‘You will follow my commands with alacrity, keep silent, and otherwise give me no cause to employ this dagger, for I assure you, Mr Pickens, I will not hesitate to use it, and you will not receive another warning before I do. The substance coating this blade will put you to sleep in an instant, and we will leave you behind, to the tender mercies of Master Malrubius, which you are already so well acquainted with. Is that clear?’

‘Quite.’

Longinus put up his dagger. ‘Very well. I think it time that we take a less public route. Mr Pickens, you will keep watch. Mr Quare, if you would assist me …’

Longinus unlocked one of the doors off the hall and pushed it open; then he and Quare, with some difficulty in the case of Malrubius, dragged the two bodies into what, it became evident, by the greenish light of Longinus’s vial, was an old and disused storeroom containing oak barrels caked with dust and rat droppings. Malrubius left a trail of blood across the stones of the floor, but there was nothing to be done about it now, Quare supposed. Pickens, meanwhile, looked on from behind his mask, dividing his attention between them and the empty hallway.

‘Come along, Mr Pickens,’ Longinus said at last from inside the room.

Pickens stepped forward but balked at entering the storeroom, as if afraid that Longinus meant to leave him there after all, slumbering alongside Malrubius and the guardsman. Nor, Quare reflected, was that fear unfounded, for the room had no other visible exit. But he had experienced enough of Longinus’s surprises to feel confident another was imminent.

‘It’s all right, Pickens,’ Quare said. ‘One thing I’ve learned about Grimalkin: he always leaves himself a way out.’

‘Mr Pickens, if you please,’ Longinus said.

Pickens entered the room. Longinus nodded to Quare, who closed the door behind him. They stood uncomfortably close in the small, ill-lit space, the two unconscious men sprawled at their feet.

The guardsman was quiet as a corpse, but Malrubius was making small sounds of distress, rather like a piglet rooting in the ground; Quare thought his breathing must be impeded by his broken nose, or perhaps by blood draining into his throat. He had no more love for Malrubius than Pickens did, but neither did he care to stand by while the man choked to death. Kneeling, he repositioned the head so as to improve the man’s air flow.