The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh Page 6

  “Aye,” Summerson answered, examining them with a smile. “You don’t think this farm maintains itself, do ya? Just as London needs people to tend to matters in order to keep it orderly, a farm needs its hands to keep nature at bay. Without able bodies to tend to chores, the property will go to seed and we can’t have that, now can we?”

  “So, wot,” Christopher asked, feeling his hackles rise, “you sayin’ we are at your beck and call now, eh? Like we’re them poor sods in them factories?”

  Summerson finished her ale with a contented sigh before interlacing her fingers and lifting her gaze to meet Christopher’s. “What I am saying is you are my charge, all you lot, while you stay here. Agent Thorne made his wishes quite plain: I am to keep an eye on you and make sure you are ready in case of any trouble.”

  “We’re at a farm. What kind of trouble happens at a farm?”

  “Not much, truth be told,” she said, gathering up the dishes. “Now, you might want to think about getting ready for bed, big day tomorrow.” As she rose from the table, Liam appeared at the doorway in a fresh nightgown. “Liam, is it? Right then, your supper is in the kitchen, make quick work of it then off to bed with you.” She turned to look back at Christopher and Colin, both staring at her. “If you lads have no more questions for me, you’ll find beds over there waiting for you.” She took her plates to the kitchen, and gave the small counter well at the sink a few pumps. “And if you lot are thinking of absconding into the night, I would think twice about it. Outside of the school, there’s very little out there. You’ll either die of frost or fright. On that cheery note, good night, lads.”

  Summerson disappeared behind a modest wooden door just as the front door swung open. Jeremy returned, the bowl of food he had taken to his twin notably cleaned. Jeremy was also relieved of the blanket he left with. The boy sat next to Colin and whispered something into his ear.

  “Jonathan’s good. Full belly. Blanket. A few hay bales. Feels bit chilly, but no worse than the city in January.”

  “Summerson seems nice,” Liam blurted out just before tucking in.

  Christopher glared at the boy wolfing down his late dinner, but his glare jumped over to Colin who offered, “I wanted to give her a batty-fang when she slapped me hand away, but the ol’ lady is a right good cook, she is. An’ this place is nice.”

  “We ain’t quite living on the Rothschild, now ain’t we?” Christopher said. “We got to work the farm first thing in the morning.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Liam. “Can I tend to the animals?”

  Christopher shook his head. When Agent Thorne recruited the Seven for a mission, tending to pigs and milking cows was not what he thought tantamount to solving the mystery behind a Pharaoh’s disappearance.

  Next time he saw Agent Harrison Thorne, words would most definitely be exchanged. Oh, yes, they would.

  Chapter Six

  At the Foundations of the Future

  “Stop this damn thing!” Henry screamed as he pounded on the carriage roof. At the pace their vehicle reached it was doubtful the driver even heard him.

  Henry was jostled so high when a wheel hit an exceptionally large stone he ended up across the laps of Julia and Suzanne. Surprisingly they grabbed hold of him, while the rest of the students wedged themselves in as best as possible.

  The horse! Verity wrapped her hand more firmly into the strap, and tried to push away the screams and outrage of her fellow passengers. Instead she concentrated on the horse and its own biomechanical rhythms playing a symphony in her head. Without examining the steed more closely, her mind could not conjure details she would need to properly connect with it. At least, that was her first notion. Her eyes were closed, but Verity could see clearly all its moving parts, a breath-taking collection of intricate metal workings all moving in exquisite concert with each other, all of them focused on driving this magnificent beast of clockwork and steam onwards. It was almost as if the maker bottled the essence of what it was to be a horse into all these mechanics.

  It would have been simple to become lost in all of that; Verity could have so easily become one with the machine, deprived of herself in its rationales and smooth operations. If she just stretched out she could make it better.

  Yes, better, she thought with elation. I could make everything better in order for the ætherequus to reach its potential. A sudden jerk of the carriage brought Verity back to the real task: preventing them all having their necks broken in this wild ride. She had to stop the horse.

  Yet stopping also felt like the wrong thing to do. This was a machine made to run, and it was not her place to make it stop now. Damn, she swore. This device has incredible will.

  She allowed herself to fall deeper into the science and syncopation of the ætherequus, and somewhere in the mad creation of brass, she felt a piston with a slight flaw in it—a stress crack which had broadened over time. It felt like a break of her own tooth. If she just pressed a touch harder with her own will, it would open a little wider. Then the running would stop.

  Verity felt an ache build in her own bones, which quickly became agony. Hurting the horse would hurt her, but she pressed on. It felt as though it was going to split her own leg if she kept on, but she couldn’t give up.

  When the shot rang out, Verity was jerked back from the machine so quickly she let out a scream. The connection—for what else could it be called—was agonising when it severed. Henry caught her as she fell, so the two of them, along with the other children in the carriage, dissolved into a tumble of arms and legs on the floor of the carriage.

  Being tossed about like a salad did not make thinking any easier. Verity fought for several minutes to escape the jumble of people and small luggage she’d become unexpectedly part of.

  The carriage lurched right, and then left even harder, but their pace was slowing. They all rocked back and forth while working to untangle themselves until finally their mad ride came to a complete stop. For a moment there was only terrified panting, and Verity pushed someone’s dress out of her face.

  “Ah, bugger me!” came the gruff voice of the driver.

  “Henderson,” another voice called out, one with a polished British accent, “language!”

  “Beggin’ ya’ pardon, mum,” the driver returned. “This contraption—”

  “The ætherequus, you mean?”

  “Yes, mum—the horse is a rather bit of a bother when it breaks down.”

  “Fortunately, you broke down close enough to the academy, so little blessings.”

  The carriage door finally popped open, and a dull light streamed into the close confines of the carriage. An older woman stood haloed by the light. Her beauty, Verity considered the longer she looked at her, refused to yield completely to time.

  She stared at the cropped white-blonde hair just visible under a snood while her brown eyes fixed on the students. Subtle lines on the elder woman’s face led Verity to believe she was in her fifties. She oozed with elegance as she switched her attention from Verity to the other students locked in a mad game of pick-up sticks with their tumbled bodies.

  Her riding dress matched the shade of the carriage exactly, but it was the shotgun she held upright in one hand that caught her attention. It took a moment, but Verity discerned the collar of brass and semi-precious gems lying over her shoulders served as a brace for the sidearm. It would cleverly allow the wielder to fire one handed.

  That was when Verity noted the woman’s right sleeve appeared to be sewn across the torso, almost serving as a sling. It was a very strange fashion choice.

  When the woman’s gaze returned to her, Verity felt unreasonable embarrassment wash over her. She suddenly felt conscious of her dishabille, since this new arrival was like one of those fashion plates handed about between ladies of distinction in London.

  “Is everyone alright?” Their lady rescuer asked, flicking the shotgun up over her shoulder. The weapon slid smoothly out of sight, presumably to rest against her back in some kind of harness, even as she offe
red the other hand to the students. “I do apologise for the rather unconventional greeting, not at all what we are accustomed to here at the Delancy Academy.”

  It was Julia who broke the silence. “You’re Miss Lobelia Delancy. The leading voice in Ætherphysics. Author of Crossing Over and Dimensions of the Mind.”

  “That I am,” she said with a pleasant smile. The smile faded slightly as she added, “I am also your new headmistress.”

  Henry struggled to his feet and helped the other younger children and girls out. “We’re most grateful, regardless of who you are and what you write.” Miss Delancy’s gloved fingers closed on Verity’s arm, as she helped her down, and the girl could feel the strength in them.

  “I do hope everyone is alright?” Miss Delancy said, brushing down skirts, and helping everyone straighten themselves.

  “Och we’re grand,” Julia said, her red-hair refusing to be calmed no matter how much petting she got from the headmistress. “Almost achieved flight in there!”

  Miss Delancy let out a chuckle at that. “Well, it wasn’t the intention.”

  While they were chatting, Verity took the time to examine the driver and horse. The automaton was perfectly all right, standing stock still with steam streaming from its nostrils, but completely undamaged. At least from the outside. The driver, Henderson, paced nervously about the animal, casting wary glances all around them.

  “You needn’t worry about maintenance on the ætherequus tonight,” Miss Delancy called over her shoulder. “We will have the house staff collect luggage and shuttle them up to the estate.”

  “Is just gettin’ late, is all,” Henderson said, his head whipping towards the forests so quickly Verity was convinced it would tear itself off his shoulders.

  “Which is why I’m intending to have the staff come down here and tend to the luggage as a group.” Her slender fingertips touched a small brass contraption on her shoulder plate that looked like a small telegraph machine. As she held it down, a tiny blue spark flared to life. “Edwin, are you ready? Over.”

  She released the device, but only seconds later the blue spark danced within the mechanical device. In reaction a small Tesla Coil against the brass plate underneath it recreated human speech, albeit speech with a high, tinny texture to it. “Edwin here, Miss Delancy. I have assembled staff. We are en route. Over and out.”

  Once more, she pressed down on the small arm. “Acknowledged. Out.” She looked back to Henderson. “There? Satisfied?”

  “I will be once we are well in for th’ night,” Henderson grumbled.

  “What is the concern?” Verity asked, her curiosity always getting the better of her.

  “Ma’am, you’re in the Bodmin Moor,” Henderson whispered.

  “That’s enough.” The headmistress turned back around to Verity and the other students, and smiled sweetly. “Oh how we do love a bit of mystery and intrigue here in the country. However, as my academy nurtures the reputation of honing some of the finest minds of the future, we do not take stock in such flights of fancy, now do we?”

  From the looks flickering across their faces, a flutter of dismay ran through the children at Delancy’s question. Verity understood though. Not only was the reputation of these moors as a smuggler’s haven preceding itself, there were stories of dark beasts roaming the rocky region of Cornwall. True, in London, monsters were not uncommon. They were mortal, corporeal things. Out here, especially in some of the cases Agent Thorne told them about, monsters took on all sorts of guises.

  Waving an immaculate suede gloved hand, the headmistress nodded. “Our security is quite impossibly tight. If our carriage driver is to be believed, though, we should make for the estate. Do not be afraid. You are safe now, and once at the academy you can set your minds at rest.” She suddenly pointed at Henry. “What is your name young sir?”

  He paused. His gaze jumped to Verity, and he went pale. Had he forgotten his legend?

  “It’s a simple question, lad,” Delancy insisted, but then her head inclined his way as she asked, “or did you take a blow to the head in there?”

  The snickering of Suzanne Celestene and two others, a tall boy with red hair and a striking girl sporting raven locks, snapped Henry out of his fog. He cleared his throat and said, “Henry Talbot, milady.”

  She inclined her head and smiled. “Henry, from the looks of you, I would dare say you know something of mechanics.” Before he could ask how she knew, Delancy motioned to his hands. “Those look like the hands of a labourer, unlike these privileged darlings who are more accustomed to having servants tend to their projects,” Delancy stated, her gaze turning to Suzanne. “Let us all understand one another. You all are responsible for your work. There is no staff to tend to your whims, no tutors to assist you in your inspirations. There is only the academy and the work. Some of you may be here as part of a charity, while others may be following in their father’s”—and with a quick glace to Julia— “or uncle’s footsteps, but you all are on equal ground. You are defined by your intuition and your innovation. Remember that.” Her gaze drifted over Henry’s shoulder, and all the children stared up to the grand manor in the distance as what appeared to be a staff of about twenty approached. Miss Delancy turned back to Henry. “Thank you for your help earlier with the students, Henry. Would you mind tending to the staff? I need someone stalwart to take charge, and you seem like just the man for the job.”

  “It would be a pleasure, miss!” Verity had never seen Henry move so quickly to an adult’s command. Verity raised an eyebrow and watched with interest. Miss Delancy might not be in her prime, but she could still command male attention.

  “Now, children,” and she motioned with her other hand—the one not wearing a glove, Verity noticed—to follow. “Let’s get onto the manor.”

  Sharing glances with one another, the children gathered together and continued up the main road leading to the grand house at the top of the hill.

  For the first handful of steps the students were mostly silent, but it was Julia who finally gave voice to what Verity was thinking. “So, did ya notice her right hand, how the sleeve is sewn into the dress?”

  “Yes. What happened there?”

  “A terrible accident when she was younger. She was experimenting with accelerating ætherparticles?”

  Verity bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to quash her disdain. “Miss Delancy dabbles in the æthersciences?”

  “Dabbles? Nah, what she has done in the field has been ground-breaking.” Julia motioned with her head to Delancy. “But when she was twenty Miss Delancy built an electroaccelerator designed to open a portal between dimensions. Something went wrong. Terribly wrong.”

  “Looks very healthy now,” Emma piped in, an impish grin on her face.

  “She took some Holy Waters while in Rome.” Even Suzanne could not help adding in her own gossip. “Her governess suggested she travel to drink the water brought from the Holy Land from the Pope’s hand, and that was what restored her. So my father says.”

  Verity knew the Delancy Academy was dedicated to science, but it seemed even the paranormal sciences were honoured. Still, the evidence of Miss Delancy’s health was obvious. Somehow all this made her feel better about the headmistress—not to the point where she would confide in her their mission, but at least feel comfortable about attending the school.

  Julia whispered to her. “And did you see that shotgun? How can she look so elegant wielding…well…a brawler’s sidearm?”

  Suzanne shook her head while pressing her lips together. “Not exactly proper for a lady, if you ask me.”

  The words popped out of Verity’s mouth suddenly, far faster than she liked. “Then why are you going to her academy?”

  Now she was committed.

  Suzanne stared back at her. “Business,” was all she would share.

  Now it was Julia’s turn to question this little snoot. “What kind of a person goes to an academy of higher learning for business? You’re not even old enough to wipe y
our ass!”

  “An investment in one’s future is good business, so my father says,” Suzanne bit back, ignoring Julia’s swipe.

  “Children,” Delancy warned over her shoulder in a low pleasant tone, “do not start squabbling amongst yourself. These are your fellow students, treat them with respect.”

  Julia leaned into Verity’s ear. “Seems like Suzanne’s father has quite a bit to share with the world, dontchathink?”

  “Quite fortunate for us Suzanne is here then,” she whispered back, “so we may benefit from her father’s infinite knowledge.”

  “Aye,” Julia said with a wink.

  They travelled in silence, but not for long as the academy loomed just ahead of them. It was growing darker and colder with every passing moment, but the academy, even with the inviting glow of light emitting from numerous windows, did not necessarily appear as a haven in the night.

  The Delancy Academy was in a building that any number of gothic romances might have been written about. Miss Delancy led them through a gatehouse with fanciful turrets and crenelations. It would have not been a stretch of Verity’s imagination to believe knights and kings passed the same way, although she observed no sign of the impeccable security their headmistress mentioned, though there was a subdued ticking in her head which insinuated all was not as it might have seemed.

  They eventually walked into a courtyard surrounded on three sides by the manor house. The main door was between the two wings of the house, with a family crest of rampant dragons above it, glistening and gleaming in the dulled light of a fast-approaching dusk.

  Verity craned her neck to take in all she could of the building. The many chimneys poked up into the low clouds, while the fact it was obviously made of local stone gave it the appearance of almost having grown from the ground, the ivy covering some of it only adding to the illusion. It was ancient, imposing, and far too grand for any of the Ministry children. She could only imagine what her fellow urchins-in-disguise thought about it.