The Immortal Heights (13 page)

“But some things you never really forget. I remember now what she told you about sacrificial magic, how mages mistakenly equated blood magic with sacrificial magic because a rite of sacrificial magic began with the drawing of a small quantity of blood from the victim, to ascertain how powerful the sacrifice would be. I also remember she went to say how grotesque sacrificial magic was. And how messy, since all the best parts of the body—eyes, brain, organs, and marrow—had to be extracted while the victim's heart still beat.”

Her breaths grew agitated from the horrifying memories—and from the accusation she was about to make. “My friends are knowledgeable, but few mages alive know anything concrete about sacrificial magic. By the time we learned that sacrificial magic was the reason for the Bane's quest for a great elemental mage, none of us had time to do any reading on it—we were too busy preparing to leave Eton at the drop of a hat.

“Today, in their ignorance, my friends assumed that what
Kashkari's prophetic dream revealed was that I would die from sacrificial magic, giving the Bane another century of unparalleled power. That was the reason they left me behind, even though they had come to count on my abilities.

“But you, all along you knew that they were wrong. That I would not be used for sacrificial magic, at least not successfully. And you kept it to yourself. You let them go. You let—” Her voice caught. “You let the one I love walk into certain doom without me.”

He said nothing.

“Am I right?” she demanded. “Is that what you did?”

Still he said nothing.

“Answer me!”

His throat moved. “Yes, you are right. I let them think your death would be caused by sacrificial magic, even though your friend's description of the dream suggested otherwise.”

She slumped into a chair, her legs no longer able to support her.

“But don't you see, Iola, that even if it will not be by sacrificial magic, by going to Atlantis you will still die?”

Wearily she raised her head. “I know that. I have known it since the day the prince first asked me to help him in this endeavor. That was why I ran from him. That was why he had to trick me into a blood oath so that I'd stay. But somewhere along the way I changed my mind. I understood what is at stake. And I realized that sometimes the loss of a life, even if that life is my own, isn't too great a price to pay.”

He shook his head, his eyes stricken. “I can't let that happen. You are still a child. You are too young to make such irrevocable decisions.”

“I may be still underage, but I haven't been a child for a very long time. You know that. And I have some idea how devastating it might be for you, to let me choose my own path. But it's the same for me, don't you see? There is a prophecy of the prince's death. He would meet his end on Atlantis. Do you think it never occurred to me that perhaps he ought to stop pursuing this course of action that would lead him to Atlantis? But I don't say anything to dissuade him, and I don't stand in his way. He has already chosen, and I must respect his choice.”

A tear rolled down Master Haywood's face. “But what about the Conservatory? If you set foot on Atlantis, you will never return. And you will never study at the Conservatory.”

“Did you really think that by tomorrow or next week I would change my mind, and be content to throw myself into my studies so that I might yet do well on next year's qualifying exams? And even if I did, have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten that as long as the Bane endures, I will never be safe?”

Master Haywood covered his face with his hands. Iolanthe got to her feet. What else was there to say?

She returned to the laboratory, sat down on her usual stool, pressed her fingers to her temples, and tried to think. There was always the sea route, of course. Titus had an account with the Bank of England to
which she had access, and there was enough money in the account for her to hire a vessel—or buy one outright—to cover a thousand miles of open ocean. But the speediest steamer would still take at least thirty hours to traverse that distance. And even she, with her powers, could not create an ocean current that moved much faster.

The pages of Kashkari's two-way notebook moved—as if someone had set a thumb against their edges and riffled them.

She stared at it. She had used two-way notebooks when she was a child—most schoolchildren had, buying them from hawkers, as no parents or parental figures would make such purchases, given that their predominant use was for chatting with friends during class, while still looking as if one were taking notes and paying attention.

Over the years two-way notebooks had been adapted so that they could receive messages from much longer distances, rather than from only a few feet away. But because part of the underlying construction was so flimsy, no one had ever been able to make them truly secure. Titus had always refused to carry one, for fear it would give away too much if his person was ever searched.

The pages of the notebook flipped again.

Even if Iolanthe wanted to, she wouldn't be able to read the message, unless she knew Kashkari's password. The security was lax, but still enough to stop a casual peeper.

The contents of the front page of
The Delamer Observer
, which lay next to the notebook, changed. Not that much could be gleaned from the front pages of any newspaper these days—valuable information
was much more likely to be found concealed among the tiny and numerous advertisements on the back inside pages.

She blinked and pulled the newspaper toward her. At the bottom of the front page, a small headline read,
Cargo Loads Diverted to Delamer North as Hubs at Delamer East Undergo Maintenance.

The article was short.

Several of the Domain's longest-serving freight translocators were demolished this morning. Translocators 1 to 4 had long functioned as the capital's, indeed, the realm's most reliable vessels for transatlantic cargo shipment. That slack has now been taken up by translocators at both Delamer North and Riverton West. Delamer East's translocators are expected to be rebuilt to current standards and return to service by the beginning of next year.

Translocator 4 at Delamer East was the one for which Titus had a destination disruptor!

Was the message in Kashkari's notebook from them? Had Titus too discovered this unhappy turn of events and was trying to contact her? But why
her
? What could she do from a lighthouse at the very north of mainland Britain?

Of course, the diary. Faced with such a challenge, Titus would immediately want to consult his mother's record, to see whether any of her visions might provide a clue as to how he ought to proceed.

She picked up the notebook and tried to think from Kashkari's perspective. Two-way notebooks did not work with countersigns, and they did not tolerate long, complex passwords. So it had to be something relatively simple. And Kashkari, who spent the majority of his time at school, would want something that his classmates could not guess, something that belonged to his secret life as a young rebel.

“Amara,” she said.

That was not it.

“Durga Devi.”

No.

“Vasudev.”

Still not right. Of course, Vasudev Kashkari had come to Eton and met quite a few people in Mrs. Dawlish's house. So his name would not do. Was it their sister's name, then? Or his parents' names? She didn't know what any of them were called.

Wait. What was it that Kashkari had said was his nom de guerre? “Vrischika!”

She grunted aloud as she proved wide of the mark again. She was on the wrong track here. Kashkari did spend part of his year with the rebels, so he would want something the rebels couldn't easily guess either, in case someone nosy stumbled upon his notebook.

She walked several times around the worktable. Kashkari had gone to Eton to keep Wintervale safe, but all the variations of Wintervale's name fell flat. She consulted Princess Ariadne's diary, but
no new visions were revealed. She did find, tucked into a pocket on the back cover, a letter from Lady Wintervale to Titus, written years ago, when the latter first began his career at Eton. But it was no use to the problem at hand.

You will best help him by seeking aid from the faithful and bold
, came the long-ago advice from the Oracle of Still Waters. Could it be?
Fidus et audax
, which had been the password for the wardrobe in Wintervale's room, was in fact—Titus had told her later—the Wintervale family motto.

Could Kashkari have taken that as his password, because of what he believed to be his prophesied connection with Wintervale?

“Fidus et audax,”
she said.

The notebook opened. And on the page it opened to was written,
I remember now where I saw a book exactly like the prince's volume of fairy tales: on the shelves of Royalis's grand library, when I last worked there.

Iolanthe nearly dropped the notebook. She didn't need the tiny Atlantean whirlpool symbol at the corner of the page to know who had sent the message.

Mrs. Hancock.

Where are you?
she wrote back.

No answer came.

If she were Mrs. Hancock, she would be careful too, especially if she received a reply that wasn't in Kashkari's handwriting. Iolanthe almost identified herself to Mrs. Hancock, but that would be too risky, if the notebook were to fall into the wrong hands.

Or was already in the wrong hands.

Her head pounded. What was really going on? What would Titus, Kashkari, and Amara do once they found out that they could not proceed as they'd hoped? And what was her role in all of this? Did she merely pass on the information to Dalbert and hope for the best or . . .

She got up and walked back into the parlor. Master Haywood sat in an armchair, his hands in his lap, staring straight ahead.

Her heart pinched, but she only said, “If you can show me where it is, I would like to see Wintervale's funeral notice.”

Titus had taken their emergency satchel. But fortunately for her, his preparedness was world-class, and in the laboratory there were duplicates of almost everything—including, thankfully, another plain spare wand, since she planned to leave Validus behind. She found a satchel similar to the one they'd used and stocked it with remedies, tools, and everything else she could fit inside.

Master Haywood, his face grim, did the same, filling the bag he'd brought with him from his apartment in Paris.

“You don't have to come,” she told him.

“I want to.”

“You don't want to. You would rather stay behind.”

“So would you, Iola. We are none of us that brave.”

“At least I made my decision long ago, after careful consideration. You are just being rash.”

He stopped and turned to her. “My dear girl, you may criticize me on anything else—and goodness knows I have failed on many fronts. But for nearly seventeen years now my life has had no purpose other than to keep you safe. When I destroyed your light elixir, it was an attempt to keep you safe. When I said nothing and let the prince and his friends go, likewise. And now I am coming with you, because nothing matters more to me than your safety. Maybe I am being rash, but my decision too was made very, very long ago.”

She swallowed. “I'm sorry. Please forgive me.”

His voice softened. “Only if you also forgive me for overstepping my bounds.”

She set aside her bag, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his shoulder. “I want so much for you to have years and years ahead. Good years—too many were stolen from you.”

“I want the same—but not because I had anything stolen from me. I was the one who threw away those years we could have been happy together. I want to do everything right by you, should we be given another chance.”

She touched his face. “You have always done everything right by me.”

He hugged her fiercely, then kissed her on her forehead. They finished packing and checked each other's bags to make sure no important items had been left behind.

When there was nothing more to be done, Iolanthe closed the
door of the laboratory. She wished she had time for one last stroll on the headland. It was an austerely beautiful place, Cape Wrath, and she'd seen very little of it, despite the number of times she'd visited the laboratory.

Someday. Someday when all the prophecies in the world went up in flames.

She took a deep breath. “Ready?”

“No,” said Master Haywood.

“I know what you mean. No one can be ready for what we are about to face.”

“No, that is not what I meant at all.”

She glanced at him. Had he changed his mind? “Then what do you mean?”

From the abandoned barn in Kent, Iolanthe vaulted Master Haywood and herself to Gravesend, then to central London, then West Drayton, six miles east of Eton. She didn't know exactly how far Atlantis's no-vaulting zone extended, but they arrived in West Drayton without mishap, and from there took a train to Windsor and Eton Central railway station, immediately on the doorstep of Windsor Castle.

The castle was inside the no-vaulting zone, which was still very much in effect. High walls and guarded entrances, however, were no matches for two mages with breaking in on their minds. In fact, the
only problem Iolanthe had was in determining the precise location of the room she used to vault into, for meeting with Lady Wintervale.

But she knew it faced north and was on an upper floor. And she gave a detailed enough description for a footman, under an otherwise spell that made him believe that she was one of the English queen's ladies-in-waiting, to know exactly which sitting room she was talking about.

Later that day, her voice rang out clearly from inside the room.
“Toujours fier.”

What Lady Wintervale had told her to say, to summon the noblewoman from her lair deep in the castle.

Except this time those words summoned only the agents of Atlantis, lying in wait.