Fallen Magic

I don’t pick up any more hints over the rest of the conversation. It’s mostly Sylvia and Francesca asking Edward questions, which he answers largely in few words. Both of them seem to be genuinely curious, but he’s still guarded. And I can hardly blame him.

I suggest that maybe we should go sightseeing for our next meeting. Show Francesca more of the country she’s visiting. At least partly because I can’t bear to spend too much longer putting up with this awkwardness and trying to make conversation on Edward’s behalf. Sylvia and Francesca both approve of that idea, though we agree it’ll have to wait until the weekend as it’ll be too dark and cold to be traipsing about in the evenings. Francesca says she’d like to visit the Abbey Royal, and so the plan is agreed.

“How was that?” I ask Edward as we walk back.

He shrugs. “I… don’t know. Just because they’re family doesn’t mean they get things. Doesn’t mean I can be open with them.”

I’m struck, not for the first time, by the feeling of how much of a privilege it is that Edward trusts me enough to be open with me. “Yeah. That’s fair.” I don’t quite know how I can say what I want to, because advising him to take a chance and trust his own mother feels like dismissing everything that’s happened to him.

“What do you think, then?”

“I think… you have an interesting cousin.”

“In what sense?”

“I think she’s hiding something,” I say.

“What gave you that impression?”

“She was trying not to laugh when you were venting about Millicent. And she seemed more interested in magical theory than you’d expect a medical student to be. Especially – I mean, the detail you went into would be nearly impossible to follow unless you had at least some prior knowledge. Also… she reminded me of Electra, for some reason? I don’t know why, though.”

“And you say I’m paranoid,” Edward says, amused. “Those things are… a little unusual. But they could just as easily have a perfectly innocent explanation.”

“Yeah. I know. I guess it’s instinct, really.”

We walk in silence for half a minute or so before I piece some things together in my mind. “The way she was sitting,” I say. “That’s what made me think of Electra.”

“Electra doesn’t normally sit like that, though.”

“Yeah. But it’s… it’s not the way a proper, studious young lady would sit. Compare it to your mother. It could be like what Electra does. Deliberately not acting in the expected way.”

“Maybe,” says Edward. I can tell he’s not convinced, and I don’t entirely blame him. It feels a lot less convincing now that I say it out loud. “But we can’t do anything about it, not really. Or not without involving my father, and…”

And we’re trying to hide from Lord Blackthorn that Edward is in contact with his mother. I can’t think of a plausible innocent reason we’d want to look into a Sirgalese medical student. “Yeah. I guess just… keep an eye on her.”

“Yeah,” Edward agrees.

It’s nearly nine after noon by the time we make it back. Edward decides to spare me another wardwork lesson, which I’m relieved by: I’m more tired than I thought I would be, and I have thoughts churning in the back of my mind besides. I don’t think attempting technical magic work would have gone well.

I look for Elsie, who I’ve been meaning to have another conversation with, but fail to find her. Though there’s a fair chance she’s already retreated to her dormitory, and I don’t want to ask anyone because I can’t be bothered to think of an excuse for why I’m looking for her.

So I settle for retreating to my own dormitory, doing a little homework, and resisting the temptation to read Georgiana’s diary. I know that’s the only chance I have of getting enough sleep.

And I’m very glad I had enough self-discipline when I make it down to breakfast every morning. Edward is in his usual place, but he’s not reading any of the papers and he’s stacked a plate high with toast. He waves me over before I can collect my porridge.

“Slight change of plans,” he says. “You and I are having a working breakfast with my father.”

“Ten minutes’ notice might have been nice,” I say.

“This is still better than my dad would have given you if it were up to him,” he points out. “Help me carry this toast?”

I sigh and take the plate.

Lord Blackthorn is waiting for us in a meeting room, steadily working his way through a similar plate of toast and a pile of paperwork simultaneously. Once we’re inside, he takes a minute to activate an additional ward he’s set in the room.

“Good morning,” I say, and get the lack of response I expected.

“How’s work?” Edward asks. “Busy?”

Lord Blackthorn shoots me a pointed look before replying “It always is. A thousand insignificant things people insist on making into my problems. So if we could focus on the topic at hand…”

So his small-talk tolerance is about three or four sentences. “Certainly. So – you’re aware of the situations – “

“I am always aware of whatever situations I need to be. In this case – Ernest Hampton. If it’s true that his nephew had the boy executed to please him, and if we can convince the world of that, it would be a major blow to his reputation. Which means, of course, that he will do everything in his power to prevent that.” He smiles thinly. “And that, as it happens, is just what I need right now.”

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I blink. “What – what do you mean?”

“Ernest Hampton has ties to various organisations which I strongly suspect of being agents of corruption and foreign influence. But I don’t have the sort of evidence I’d need to go after someone so well-thought-of.”

“No,” says Edward at once. “Don’t even think about it.”

“It’s rather too late for that.”

It takes me a few seconds longer to put the pieces together. He doesn’t have the sort of evidence he’d need… unless, for instance, it emerged that Ernest Hampton was using less than ethical means to protect his nephew from a legal case that could ruin him and do severe damage to Ernest’s reputation in the process.

And the thought of what those less than ethical means could be, and what consequences they could have for me and the people I care about, is probably why Edward is objecting.

“How likely do you think he is to react in the way you want?” I ask. “And what’s that likely to mean for me?”

“Oh, he’ll certainly try something. Whether it’s shady enough to give me what I need, I can’t be certain, but I’d say it’s highly probable once he’s sufficiently desperate. And I’ll make sure you and your family are protected from anything serious. I can’t prevent threats, attempts at coercion and bribery, or attacks on your reputation, but you just need to ignore them except to report all details to me.”

“Simon and Tara, too,” I say. “And their families. And my friends.”

“Very well. Though – out of curiosity – do you count Robin Wilde among the latter?”

I grimace and take a second to carefully choose my words. “For the purposes of this conversation, as someone who might come to harm due to her association with me, yes.”

He definitely doesn’t miss the way I’ve given him what he needs to know while avoiding answering the real question. But, as I hoped, he lets it go to focus on the main topic. “And as Edward apparently told you, you’ll need to remain utterly apolitical. We can go over how best to do that later if we have time – “

“Do neither of you object to Tallulah being used as bait in some scheme of yours?” Edward protests.

“I imagine she doesn’t, since she was prepared to take on these risks even without the added security I’m offering. And I think that the likelihood of something going wrong is low enough to justify taking advantage of this opportunity.”

I don’t quite know what to think about it, truth be told. I don’t much like the idea of being bait, but I can’t deny that it’ll quite possibly be safer with Lord Blackthorn’s support and the extra security.

“There is no acceptable non-zero risk when it’s Tallulah’s life at stake!”

“Then why haven’t you proposed we keep her in a secure vault in Blackthorn Manor?”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s a rhetorical point, Tallulah, no-one is actually proposing that.”

I realise that as he says it, but I still don’t appreciate it.

“Fine. I didn’t mean my last statement literally. But the risk of deliberately making her an enemy of a powerful man – “

“You think there aren’t many powerful men who’d count her as an enemy already, just because they know you care about her?”

Edward grimaces.

“Besides. You were the one who informed me of this. Clearly you didn’t object all that much to it before.”

“Because I thought you’d shut it down!”

There’s a long moment of silence. Edward pales a little as he realises what he just said.

And I sigh. I knew he didn’t like the idea, but I thought he’d at least support it for my sake. I thought he at least had that much faith in me. So it hurts, I have to admit, knowing he wanted my project to fail rather than take on this risk.

“Edward,” says Lord Blackthorn. “You can, if you have the means to, override someone’s will for their own protection. But do not expect them to like you afterwards. I learnt that the hard way, and I would rather you didn’t.”

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do. I – I wouldn’t do that to you, Tallulah. Okay, maybe I would have tried harder to persuade you it was a bad idea if I hadn’t expected it to be irrelevant. But I didn’t do anything that I thought would increase the chances of Dad refusing.”

“I believe you,” I say. “But…” I don’t quite know what to say, how to put the complex mix of emotions swirling in my mind into words. “This is important to me. You know that.”

“Too important for me to be allowed to criticise it?”

“Too important for me not to want my best friend to believe in me and back me up.”

Edward sighs. “Is there anything I could say that would change your mind?”

“Short of providing convincing evidence that John was killed lawfully? Or an assessment of the risks that I trust more than Lord Blackthorn’s – which, no offence, but he can predict and mitigate potential problems a lot better than you can –? No. Not really.”

“Dad? I want you to promise me that Tallulah won’t be hurt because of this.”

“I can’t do that. You know that. Promises are for absolutes, and the future is never absolute. All I can promise is that I will do everything I can – and that is not insignificant – to ensure her safety.”

Edward sighs. “What can I do, against both of you?” he asks. “Fine. Do it. But don’t expect me to be happy.”

I don’t expect him to be. I’m not sure I am, even though I’ve got what I want. “And we need to inform the others,” I say. “My dad, and Simon and Tara.”

“I’ll handle that,” says Lord Blackthorn.

I grimace. I’m not sure I’d like his methods of handling it. But I don’t think I have much negotiating power here. I hate having to pick my battles.

“Now, we also ought to discuss the matter of Ariana Carling. She is… an exceptional woman, and exceptionally dangerous. So tell me, Tallulah. What does she hope to gain from a conversation with you?”

“Information,” I reply immediately. “Anything she can work out about… well, about you. Edward, too, I suppose. Anything that could possibly buy her a scrap of leverage or goodwill with you.”

“True,” Lord Blackthorn says. “But not, I think, the primary danger.”

That surprises me. “What is the primary danger, then?”

“What I think she wants, is… well. You. Or at least, for now, a little of your trust and goodwill.”

“…because she wants to – what? Recruit me to her party?”

“Not necessarily so directly. But to support her ideas. And perhaps persuade certain Blackthorns of your acquaintance that her ideas should be supported.”

“Ah. I see. But – if her ideas are good ones, is that necessarily wrong?”

“What if only some of her ideas are good? And others are likely to lead to disaster? And what if just the consequences of you being known to support her could do that?”

“Is this about how the Blackthorns can’t be openly seen to have reformist sympathies? Because they’re supposed to be utterly loyal to the King?”

“Because we are utterly loyal to the King,” Lord Blackthorn corrects. I don’t know if he means that, or if he just means that even within this room it isn’t safe to give the slightest suggestion otherwise. “But… yes. Partly. The other part… you know history, so maybe you’ll understand it. Most people don’t, because they’re thinking too narrowly. Within the recent system, it’s not quite clear what Carling is, because there haven’t been her type before. But if you look outside, further back… fiercely charismatic. Popular with the people. Not afraid to circumvent the traditional ways of power. Her following is almost cult-like.”

There is definitely historical precedent for what he’s describing. “You’re saying she’s a revolutionary leader?”

“Precisely. And revolutionary leaders have a way of bringing, well, revolution.”

“Which would be the disaster you referenced?”

He nods. “So you see my problem. I… agree with much of what she’s trying to do. But I cannot support her methods. I cannot allow a revolution.”

The arrogance of that sentence is shocking. As if he could impose his will on an entire country just by saying those words. Well, if anyone could…

“For now,” he goes on, “we are tentative allies. But I think it is very likely that someday we will become mortal enemies. And on that day, Tallulah – which side will you choose?”

The idea of taking either side is unthinkable. Choosing the Blackthorns’ side would mean being part of the suppression of a reformist revolution. Supporting brutality, cruelty, the slaughter of people whose only crime was to fight for a better world.

But choosing Carling’s side would mean betraying Edward.

I’ve hesitated for too long.

The possibility that I could choose revolution, to Lord Blackthorn, is a problem. Of the sort he won’t hesitate to eliminate if he can.

“There has to be a third option,” I say finally. “A way of bringing about real change without revolution.” A way of not tearing myself apart. And not tearing the country apart.

“If there is, I’ve yet to find it. Look, if you want, but don’t let that blind you to what happens if there are only two choices.”