The Slum Orphanage - Chapter 26 (Patreon)

After my conversation with McLal, I had the honour of speaking with the Earl of Bremor, who most ungraciously ordered me to haul my arse over to the Bremor quarter and also demanded a word with Harry. I’ve no idea what they discussed, but we set off for the clan lands together in Harry’s Royal. On the way, we stopped by the ruins where one of the rituals had taken place. The area was tightly cordoned off by ordinary coppers, though they were being directed by lads from the PSS. I recognised one of them, and he recognised Harry and me, arranged for us to pass through, and even gave us a bit of a briefing.

Quite a lot had happened overnight, and I had clearly underestimated the scale of it. It was enough to learn that three ministries had taken an interest in the incident, along with Victor IV Montgomery himself. Jeremy Pierce, the Prime Minister, had received a dressing-down from the monarch and promptly passed it along to his subordinates, who in turn took it out on theirs.

Farnell was boiling over and had been placed under quarantine: from early morning, trains full of soldiers were being unloaded at the station to support the local police. The city was swiftly encircled, with checkpoints set up on every road. Two destroyers blocked the harbour exit, awaiting a battleship from a nearby naval base, along with a marine transport. And, as the cherry on top, the whole mess was to be overseen by Thomas, Prince of Tansin, whose train had departed the capital during the night.

At the mention of the Crown Prince, Harry grimaced. Likely he was recalling their conversation behind closed doors after he’d been granted his baronetcy. Harry had left that office in a foul mood and refused to say what had been discussed. But I suspect it concerned the disappearance of the seal of silence from his aura. It was for his silence that Harry received his first title, not for capturing a dangerous werewolf, as the official story claims. During that hunt, Harry had run into Prince Thomas… in one of Farnell’s less reputable brothels.

The teacher never earned any new seals of silence after that. What would be the point of placing them on a wizard capable of removing them? But it certainly didn’t endear the capital or the royal family to him.

On top of everything else, the ecclesiastical orders had stirred: the Couliers fluttered faintly to life, werewolves not being their speciality, while the Righteous Hand deployed in earnest. And, of course, the secret little squirrels had crawled out of their hollows. They’d missed the flea-ridden beasts and were now poking their noses into every hole, eager to redeem themselves before their superiors. One lad in the cordon stood out sharply from the crowd of stern constables — both in behaviour and in the strength of his, as yet undeveloped, spiritual heart. I’d wager a pound he was from the Secret Service.

At the ritual site, everything remained as I remembered it, save that there was more white powder on the reservoir stones. Hopefully not in vain — perhaps the PSS’ forensics men had managed to lift a few prints. It took Harry about half an hour to cast a couple of spells and conduct several lengthy rituals, partially restoring the imprint of the pattern in the aether. The ‘squirrel’ lad watched the wizard with keen attention and seemed to perceive the pattern, but he kept his distance and didn’t interfere, so we ignored him.

Harry appeared satisfied with the work.

“Did you learn anything, Sir Harry?” asked Sandman — a sand sorcerer with two sabres slung over his right shoulder.

“Nothing of particular note, gentlemen. Before I draw any conclusions, I’ll need a word with your chief. Any idea where he is?”

“Most likely at Bremor House,” replied Sandman’s partner, a BAR machine gun in his hands.

“Splendid. That’s where we were headed. My regards, gentlemen.” Harry saluted the servicemen with two fingers, I gave a nod that passed for a bow and headed for the motorcar.

Knuckles smoothly steered the luxurious vehicle a few dozen yards away from the ruins, and I finally ventured my question:

“Do you really need Vixley?”

“No. I simply didn’t care for the attention of that young man pretending to be a constable,” Harry replied. “As for the rest, I can venture that the orphanage was not the intended target.”

“What do you mean?!” I exclaimed. “A pillar of fire slammed straight into it!”

“The pillar of fire, as you put it, struck the largest concentration of heat at the centre of the three rituals’ effect.”

“And that concentration was the orphanage.”

“It was,” Harry agreed. “Which is curious, since people are not always the primary source of heat. You’re forgetting incandescent lamps, kitchen stoves… nothing else comes to mind at present, but there must be something.”

“You’re saying they were aiming at light bulbs?”

“I’m saying the orphanage wasn’t necessarily the primary target. You said yourself the enemy is clever. I see nothing clever in destroying an orphanage. Just look at the uproar it’s caused.”

I sighed, conceding Harry’s point. The chandelier on the ground floor of Bremor House was indeed magnificent, but the whole thing still felt hazy, unclear. If only my sight allowed me to peer into the enemy’s designs, it would make things a great deal easier.

The police cordon around the quarter hadn’t been lifted, though it had grown less dense. There were even more journalists now, all kept to the perimeter under the watchful eyes of the constables. While the police held the outer lines, the clansmen worked within, clearing away the heaps of red dust left of the orphanage. Though, on second thought, those were hired labourers under Peter Logg’s supervision. The clansmen were setting up tents for the children and cooking food in small cauldrons over tripod stands.

The children, meanwhile, behaved with surprising discipline, helping the caretakers and instructors. All except for a little pack of the youngest ones gathered near the parking area, eyeing a pair of gleaming long Royals and several swift roadsters. They were clearly itching to get their hands on the marvels of engineering belonging to the guests of Bremor House, but a couple of stern shifters kept their enthusiasm in check.

Among the tents, I spotted Dame Kerry. As none of the senior staff were visible in the square, Harry decided we ought to greet her first. In truth, we heard quite a few greetings already: “Hello, Duncan, Knuckles,” and a more respectful “Sir Harry.”

The lady was busy stirring soup in a cauldron and giving practical instructions to the street girls on how to peel potatoes properly. I hadn’t expected her to know how.

“Sir Harry, gentlemen,” she said in greeting, then fixed me with an unreadable look before adding, “I admit, young lord, your clan has fulfilled its obligation to protect the children. You shall have my support.”

“So you no longer consider us bloodthirsty manipulators?” I asked.

“Rather principled cynics. And no, on the contrary, I am now quite certain I was right.”

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Women’s logic — honestly! As if Finella and Ellie weren’t enough already.

“Then why offer us your support? I don’t follow.”

“Those willing to commit such an atrocity for the sake of revenge…” the lady turned her head towards the ruins of the orphanage, “must be destroyed as swiftly as possible. At least, that is my view. His Worship de Camp, however, may not agree. I fear this incident will deal a heavy blow to his reputation as governor, and his rivals will be quick to take advantage.”

“You have a very peculiar logic,” I said, shaking my head, then a sudden thought struck me. “Or is this your contact again?”

Kerry neither looked away nor denied it, which only confirmed my suspicion. I glanced at the street girls, who were quite openly listening in, and decided this was hardly the place for an argument. They hadn’t grasped anything yet, but if the lady were to say outright that we had used the children as bait, yesterday’s rumours would be replaced by far less pleasant ones, and we would quickly lose some of the children.

I chose my words carefully before speaking, though I made sure to lace them with venom.

“And what will happen to de Camp’s reputation if he abandons the course he’s already chosen? You might ask your contact, if you don’t understand it yourself.”

The lady flushed with anger.

“Duncan!” Harry snapped, but the offence had been deliberate, and I had no intention of retreating.

“You think otherwise?” I asked him.

“I think one ought to behave politely with a lady, lad!”

“My apologies, dame, I merely pointed out the obvious,” I said with a slight bow, and attempted to make my escape before Harry could begin a lecture.

It proved easy enough. My teacher launched into apologies before Dame Rogers, Knuckles remained with them, and I made my way slowly towards Bremor House. I dearly wanted to quicken my pace, but I couldn’t afford to look suspicious. I only broke into a brisk stride once I was inside.

I all but burst into the McLals’ office. One could say I was fortunate — Albert was there, in the middle of dressing down one of the younger lads.

“Important matter,” I announced.

“Off with you,” the old man told the subordinate.

“I need Bryan,” I said.

Albert snorted. “After yesterday, everyone needs Bryan — everywhere, all at once.”

“Fine, then listen. There’s a chance to find out who’s been turning Dame Kerry against the clan. I cast a line, and I think I’ve had a bite…”

By my reckoning, she wouldn’t be able to resist passing my question on to her contact. The venom in my voice ought to have shaken her confidence. It wasn’t even that the situation was suspicious, rather that I’d shown open insolence, and she would feel compelled to share her outrage.

Bryan was not made available to me. Unlike me, McLilly hadn’t slept at all and was staying on his feet through sheer force of will and a heap of stimulants that would leave him with a dreadful crash later. Still, Albert approved of the idea and quickly summoned a pair of young shifters with excellent hearing and eyesight. He assigned one to blend in among the tents and listen to the lady, and sent the other up onto the roof to observe.

“Here?” I asked. “You think she’ll discuss it right under our noses? With whom, street urchins?”

“Well, at least with her aides?” old McLal suggested. “Besides, we’ve half the city administration visiting today: de Camp, his secretary, two deputies, the Lord Chief Constable and the Chief Prosecutor, a senior man from the Admiralty and an army general, not to mention the Secret Service.”

Albert’s words reminded me that I ought to share Harry’s idea about the rituals. The scale of the response really was excessive. After the werewolf attack on Avoc, nothing like this had happened. Children had been taken by the dozen in the slums and nobody had batted an eye, yet now there was an explosion of interest. Likely because all the orphanages of the Empire were under the Crown’s protection, regardless of who funded or ran them. All sorts of unsavoury things happened in them, but none of it was brought into the open. What the public does not know does not exist. The pillars of fire had been seen by the entire city; and those who hadn’t seen them had heard from neighbours. The authorities had no choice but to assign blame and deliver punishment.

The clan would have been the perfect scapegoat, only yesterday the newspapers had written about werewolves. Today’s issue of The Herald ran a sensational piece claiming the flea-ridden beasts considered the slums their hunting grounds. Public opinion had already been steered in the right direction, and turning it about-face would be difficult, especially since any opposing narrative would immediately raise the question: who is pushing it, and why? So the authorities, and I don’t mean de Camp, but those to whom he answers, had only one option left — to find and destroy the werewolves. Naturally, much of it would be for show rather than substance, but formidable forces had already been set in motion, and the Bremor clan, at the centre of the turmoil, had a chance to direct the destructive fist of justice. At least, that was how it seemed to me. The squirrels, the army, and the police might well have their own views.

“You know,” old McLal said thoughtfully, “we only set up the kitchen in the orphanage yesterday. Before that we used this one,” he tapped a finger against the desk, “but it’s small, meant more for receptions. Over there, Peter installed two large bread ovens, and they were running.”

“I’ve no words,” I admitted.

If Bremor House had been destroyed, they would never have allowed us to organise an orphanage at all — too dangerous for the children, they’d say. They might be caught in the crossfire…

“I think,” I said, “I should find Harry and ask him not to share his idea with anyone.”

“Or the opposite,” Albert countered. “We should share it and see which of de Camp’s officials starts shouting the loudest that we’re a danger to the children.”

We exchanged a look, turned the idea over from every angle, and rejected it in unison.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Go on, find Harry,” Albert told me.

If someone in the administration knew the orphanage had not been the werewolves’ target, they would have to reveal themselves.

I’d spent a good half-hour talking to Albert and worried Harry might have slipped away in that time, but he was still speaking with Rogers, exactly where I’d left him, though Knuckles was nowhere to be seen. Harry was laying on the compliments so thick that I began to wonder, did our wizard have designs on the lady? She was fifteen, twenty years his junior, true, but far too stern and principled… though then again, Harry himself…

Something in the air? A curse, perhaps? Why had half the people I knew suddenly turned romantic?

Ah. Right. I’d been mocking him about it only a couple of hours ago.

“Beg your pardon, madam, might I steal my teacher away? We’re expected in the house.”

“Of course, my lord,” the woman replied, a trace of irritation in her voice.

Harry looked faintly disappointed as well, but took his leave with proper decorum and followed after me. Once we were closer to the house than to the lady, I gave him a nudge.

“I see you took my advice to heart, but why her?”

Harry flushed.

“Ahem,” he coughed, and in a deliberately composed tone replied, “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” I said in surprise, which only made the wizard flush even deeper. A grown man, a powerful wizard, who plays squash with warlocks, yet ask him an awkward question and he reddens like a maiden. “And last time you weren’t even planning to come,” I recalled, “not until I mentioned she’d be here.”

“That’s enough!” Harry snapped. “You’re being punished.”

“For what?”

“For mocking your teacher.”

“I won’t do it again,” I promised, then added, “if you lift the punishment. Besides, it’s your business. I was just surprised. I thought you preferred simpler women, like the clan gossips.”

“Duncan,” the wizard said, in a dangerous tone.

“I’m silent. And you, please, keep quiet about that idea you mentioned in the car, but do pay attention if anyone tries to steer you towards it.”

Harry understood at once and agreed, and Albert quickly arranged access for him to the highest-ranking figures. McLal practically shoved the wizard into the office where the emergency meeting on the incident was underway. With the doors open, however, it sounded less like a meeting and more like a full-blown quarrel with mutual accusations flying.

I wasn’t allowed inside, but I managed to spot a few familiar faces around the large round table, including Uncle Bryce and Donald. The latter’s father tried to rope me into dealing with the street urchins, some sort of disciplinary exercise, but I waved him off, insisting Knuckles could manage perfectly well without me.

Without going into details, I asked Albert to point out all the guests currently on clan grounds. My unusual perceptiveness had already been noticed, so old McLal did not object. In return, I asked to be told when the meeting broke up, and went for a walk around the grounds.

My wandering yielded results: I identified three more gifted among the street children, two among the labourers, and caught one journalist who had disguised himself as a worker, used an amulet to blur attention, and slipped onto the grounds. After dealing with the crafty reporter, I decided to circle the perimeter and observe the sort of people surrounding him, but a breathless lad sent by Albert informed me that the meeting would soon break for a very late luncheon.

Since it was held in another hall, all the guests passed before my all-seeing gaze. The crowd presented an uneven cross-section of our society, with a stark divide between powerful gifted individuals and utter nonentities whose energy nodes were barely formed. I mean de Camp, his secretary, and a couple of others from the administration. The military men and the squirrels, on the other hand, came very close to Bryce and Harry’s level.

Harry deliberately caught my eye, and pointedly shifted his gaze to de Camp’s back.