The Royal Sorceress (8 page)

“Priestly was transported to Australia,” Lucy said. “His wife and family were transported along with him. Jacob and Rowley died in the riots, either gunned down by the Dragoons or lost in the crush. Old Rupert died – pleasantly, if not peacefully – in someone else’s bed. Davy is still alive and active, but he’s downhearted.”

She smiled. “And old Ebenezer is dead,” she added. “He died in a stone-cold bed.”

“Old Scrooge himself,” Jack said. He shook his head. Ebenezer had been a loan shark, lending out money at ruinous interest rates to the poor and desperate. Anyone who failed to pay back the loan in time was visited by his hired thugs and beaten up, or killed if the first beating failed to produce the money. Jack had never known why Ebenezer had helped to fund the movement, but the old bastard had provided more than anyone would have expected. “Who took over the business?”

“Henry Ebenezer, his son,” Lucy said. “He’s twice the bastard his father was, I’m afraid. Ebenezer had some limits, even though he was utterly ruthless; Henry has none. Most of the sparkers in this part of London are working for him now, along with the pimps, thugs and gutter-trash. He’s the uncrowned King of the Rookery.”

Jack nodded, sourly. There had always been a magical underground, composed of magicians who were too poor or too weak to attract the interest of the Royal Sorcerers. He was, technically speaking, a member himself, but the underground had never been very united. Most criminals would know better than to lean on a magician – at least one with useful talents – but Henry sounded as if he’d figured out how to control his pet magic-users. Jack could think of a handful of ways, starting with Charm. Henry had never shown any sign of magic, as far as he knew, but it was hard to judge what someone was actually capable of without seeing them in action.

Or Henry could simply be using carrots and sticks. The old ways had worked perfectly for his father. Why should his son be any different?

“We may have to deal with him,” Jack said. “Does he get along with Davy?”

“No,” Lucy said. “In fact, I believe that Davy is in debt to Henry.”

Jack frowned. “We definitely have to deal with him,” he said. “Does he ever come here?”

“He knows better than to interfere with me,” Lucy said, bluntly. “I still have my talent.”

“That’s no surprise,” Jack said. “You’ve always been very talented.”

Lucy made a rude gesture with her right hand. “But Henry will definitely pose a problem,” she warned. “If he hears that you’re back, he’ll go running to the Runners. The Rookery can’t afford to have them pounding the beat through here. A man won’t be able to earn a dishonest living.”

“And if he happens to live here, he won’t be able to earn a honest living,” Jack said. The people of the Rookery survived, somehow. It was a dog-eat-dog world. The strong survived and prospered. The weak perished. It was no way for a human being to live. “I think I’ll go and have a few words with young Henry. Perhaps I can bring him over to my way of thinking.”

“Watch your back,” Lucy said. “Are you going to be staying here?”

“I’ll find somewhere to stay,” Jack assured her. He trusted Lucy as far as he trusted anyone, but this was the Rookery and trust was in short supply. Who knew who could turn into a betrayer, given the promise of enough money to move into a more upmarket part of London? “And I want you to find young Olivia a position here.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t become one of…
them
, have you?”

“No,” Jack said. “And I’m sure that you’re not servicing
them
, even here.”

“No,” Lucy said. “And what are you going to do with her?”

“She knows the streets,” Jack said. “She may come in handy.”

He smiled. “I’ll do something to show that we can strike back at the oppressors,” he said. “You start spreading the word; I want to talk to Davy and start preparing for the revolution. Our time has finally come.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “I heard that from you before, Mister Spark, and it ended badly for all concerned.”

“This time will be different,” Jack promised. He tipped his hat to her as he stood up. “And call me Captain Swing.”

Outside, he took a moment to introduce Olivia to Lucy and offer the young girl a chance to work at reasonably good wages. The child was nervous, unsurprisingly, but Lucy had a way with children; after all, she acted as mother to over thirty whores. Lucy took care of them, ensured that rough clients were shown the door before they could inflict permanent harm on the young ladies, and paid them reasonably well. It had once troubled Jack’s conscience to know that his lover was marketing girls of dubious virtue, but he had long since overcome his doubts. None of the girls were forced into the brothel. They had had the choice between selling themselves or starving to death. Besides, Lucy’s brothel was relatively safe. The gang wars that threatened to tear the Rookery apart never touched its walls.

The sun was setting in the sky as he strode through the streets, heading for Ebenezer’s house. It was surprisingly well-built for the Rookery, but Ebenezer – although he’d been a miser and a ruthless bastard – had loved his comforts. He’d ensured that his home was always heated against the cold night air of London. A pair of thugs stood on guard outside, holding clubs and thoroughly-illicit pistols, daring anyone to challenge their might. Their master ruled most of the Rookery with an iron hand. Few would dare to see him unless they were desperate or already in his grip.

Smiling, Jack strode up to the lead thug and slapped him with a blast of powerful magic. The thug staggered backwards, blood pouring from his nose and lips, and collapsed to the ground. Jack laughed as the second thug drew his pistol, took aim with a shaky hand and fired. The bullet was caught in the magic and deflected back at the thug, who gasped as it slammed into his chest. Jack had added a little extra speed with his magic. Leaving the two thugs moaning on the ground, Jack headed inside, wincing at the heat. Henry had few scruples about showing off his wealth and power, even in the middle of the Rookery. It was a testament to the fear his father had inspired.

Jack lashed out with his magic and the inner door shattered into dust. He strode onwards and was unsurprised to see Henry running for his life, no doubt convinced that King George IV had sent all the forces of law and order in his Kingdom to deal with him. Jack caught him effortlessly and held him in the air with magic, while pushing the half-naked girl out of the office and slamming the door behind her. She’d probably run and alert someone, but who could she fetch? Henry’s tame magicians wouldn’t be able to do more than delay him.

“I’ve been hearing some bad things about you, my boy,” Jack said. Upside down, Henry looked as if he was going to be sick. His flabby chest suggested that he ate a lot better than the average inhabitant of the Rookery. “You’ve been squeezing the last drop of blood from people’s lives. You’re nothing more than a parasite on society.”

Henry gasped for breath. “They…they came to me,” he managed to say, finally. “They wanted money from me.”

“And you press them into taking ruinous interest rates,” Jack said. He was enjoying himself far too much. Some people had no choice, but to turn to crime if they wanted to eat. Henry had had a choice and had chosen to prey on his fellow men. “How many sons have you sold into service with the Crown? How many daughters have you sent to brothels when their parents couldn’t pay their debts? How many families are destitute because you forced them to repay the original loan many times over?
How many lives have you ruined
?”

He compressed the magic around Henry’s neck, choking him slightly. “There’s a new man in town now,” he added. “If you want to live, you work for me – understand?”

The door burst open and four men hurled themselves through with guns. Jack lifted one hand and sent a pulse of glowing magic right into the leader’s head. The others stumbled, just for a second, and Jack hit them with a wave of magic. They fell over backwards, crying out in shock. None of them had expected to face a real magician, let alone one who possessed all of the talents. But then, few of them knew much about magic. They probably believed that the bracelets sold by wise women possessed actual healing powers.

He made a show of clicking his fingers and the second thug burst into flame. The remaining two turned and fled, leaving Jack behind with his helpless victim. He watched the thug burning for a long second, and then fired a burst of magic directly into his head, putting him out of his misery. When he turned back to Henry, whom he’d left spinning in the air, he discovered that the former ruler of the Rookery had soiled himself. The stench was starkly unpleasant against the vaguely perfumed air.

“You work for me or I will take your organisation anyway,” Jack said. As fun as it was to torment Henry, there was too much else to do – and besides, he didn’t want to develop a taste for tormenting people. “What do you say?”

Henry was still staring at him, wild-eyed. “I’ll do it,” he said, desperately. Jack wasn’t too surprised. Criminals were rarely brave when confronted by magic. Hopefully, Henry would never have time to realise that magic didn’t make one invincible. “I’ll work for you.”

Jack dropped him onto the ground, slowing his fall just enough to prevent him from cracking his skull. “You’re going to forgive all your loans,” Jack said. He ignored the brief sputter of protest. “You’re going to start thinking about all your upper-class clients, all the nobly-born who use your services – and you’re going to start telling me all about them.” He drew a little on his magic, enough to make his eyes glow with fire. “And if you defy me, I’ll make sure you burn in fire forever.”

Henry stumbled backwards, slipping over his own urine. Jack almost smiled at the expression on his face. “I’ll do as you say,” Henry protested. He was badly shocked; Jack allowed himself to believe that Henry would be too terrified to act against him, at least at first. And the Rookery would know who to thank. “I will…”

“And when they ask why, tell them that Captain Swing sent you,” Jack said. “And trust me on this – you do not want to defy me.”

Shaking his head, he strode out of the building, leaving the broken man behind. He’d find lodgings in the Rookery, have a good night’s sleep, and then start preparing for his first act of resistance. The oppressors of mankind were about to discover that nowhere was safe from Captain Swing.

And then they would discover the meaning of fear.

Chapter Seven

I
can’t say that I am very impressed.”

“No,” Gwen said. They were riding together in a carriage, the day following the disastrous food fight. She had been expecting Master Thomas to have a private word with her and hadn’t been surprised when it had finally materialised. Cannock and two of his friends had looked uncomfortable during the evening meal and seemed to be having problems sitting down. “I’m sorry about it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Master Thomas said, flatly. “I expected a degree of maturity from you – and from young Cannock. His commission to go to India and serve as a sorcerer with the army may have to be delayed.”

Gwen said nothing. A dozen arguments ran through her mind – from the marks she’d seen when she undressed in the evening, to the sheer unfairness of three ganging up on one – and she dismissed them. Master Thomas wouldn’t be too impressed if she started acting like someone in need of his protection. It was bad enough when her father thought her a foolish female who needed a strong male hand to guide and protect her throughout her life.

“You are training to be the next Royal Sorcerer,” Master Thomas continued. “You will one day be giving orders to Cannock and his fellow Movers. Your multiple talents could have made the outcome of the whole affair far worse…”

“I tried to restrict myself to Moving,” Gwen protested. “I didn’t Blaze them…”

“You came close to Blazing them out of this world,” Master Thomas said. “They should have known better than to provoke you – and you should have known better than to lose control. Had you been born a man, we would have taken you when your powers first manifested and spent the last five years teaching you control. As it is, you will have to learn on the job.”

“I didn’t rule that women shouldn’t learn magic,” Gwen protested, hotly. “That rule makes little sense if magic is part of a person’s body…”

“I didn’t make the rules,” Master Thomas said. “There is no formal rule against ladies learning to use the magic they have. They are just rarely considered for employment by the Crown.”

“But you needed to employ me,” Gwen pointed out. “Do all the rules change when situations require that the rules be broken?”

“Of course,” Master Thomas said. “Just ask poor King Charles.”

Gwen frowned. Charles I had lost control of his country – and his head – after crossing swords with Parliament. His son, Charles II, had finally restored the monarchy, but Parliament’s powers had not been diminished. George II had known and understood the power of Parliament – both to fund wars and fight them – yet George III had thought he could control it by fiat. George IV seemed to prefer to allow Parliament to handle its own affairs, while he enjoyed himself at Windsor Castle.

The carriage lumbered to a stop and Master Thomas peered out of the covered window. He’d been remarkably unforthcoming about where they were going, or even why; he’d even insisted that Gwen refrain from practicing magic in the morning. She’d spent the hour waiting for him reading a tome of eldritch lore that seemed to bear no resemblance to magic as she understood it. The Mad Arab’s spells seemed to make no sense at all.

“One thing,” Master Thomas said, in a gentler voice. “You are about to see sights that…some would say are not suitable for young ladies. And that is strange, because young ladies are often involved. If you want to stay in the carriage…”

Gwen shook her head, firmly. “I’m coming,” she said. “Where are we?”

Master Thomas helped her down to the pavement. They were standing in front of a large brick building, situated on the northern outskirts of London. A high fence, topped with unpleasant-looking spikes, sealed off the building from the rest of the city. She could see a handful of people walking on the grass inside the fence, their faces downcast and sad. It looked more like a prison than a reputable home.