Home From the Sea: An Elemental Masters Novel Page 15

  “And how on earth did you manage to get a raven?” he asked Nan.

  “It would be far more accurate to say he got me,” she replied, and described to him the childhood visit to the Tower of London where Neville decided that Nan was going to be his, regardless of what anyone else might say, and the machinations of the Master of Ravens to accommodate that desire.

  Andrew shook his head. “I hope he didn’t get into any trouble over it.”

  “Sahib made certain he hadn’t,” Nan replied, as people began to stream toward their train, and the sound of carriage doors opening and banging closed was added to the sound of the engine gradually building up steam. She shrugged. “But after all, he is the Master of Ravens; he doesn’t really have to answer to anyone if one of them chooses to fly off. He only has to keep them from being teased or hurt or stolen at the Tower.”

  “I suppose that’s true enough.” He turned to Sarah. “And how—”

  The conductor interrupted them at that point—politely tapping on their door before opening it, and waiting deferentially for them to produce their tickets. This was certainly different treatment than Nan had gotten in the third-class carriage. The conductor appeared a bit startled when Nan and Sarah produced their own instead of Andrew giving all three sets, but he clearly wasn’t going to say anything.

  It was clear now that the train was about to pull out of the station. Conductors were calling “All aboard,” and people were running past their window, hoping to get on before the train left.

  Finally the last of the doors slammed, the last whistles sounded, the train blew its own whistle, and they were off.

  Paddington Station really was on the edge of London. Within moments, they were traveling through real countryside, slowly gathering speed.

  “Out!” shouted Grey, followed by an equally insistent “Now!” from Neville.

  Not wanting to risk a show of temper, the two girls unfastened the doors of the carriers. Lurching a little with the movement of the train, the birds stalked out to be lifted up by their respective partners. Andrew eyed Neville with a faint air of alarm.

  “I’ve never seen a raven this close,” he admitted uneasily. “That is a very… formidable… beak.”

  Neville cocked his head and gave Andrew a wicked look. “The better to bite you, my dear,” said Grey sweetly.

  Both girls laughed. Nan took a newspaper out of her portmanteau and spread it on the carpet, holding Neville over it. The result that plummeted to the paper made Andrew’s eyes widen. Grey’s deposit was a little daintier. “That was probably why they wanted out,” Nan explained, as Sarah put Grey briefly on the back of her chair and folded up the paper around its contents.

  Neville gave her a look, this time of affronted dignity. “Want to see,” he croaked in complaint. And to underscore his statement, he jumped to the back of the chair and turned his back on them, pointedly looking out the window.

  “What would you have done in third class?” Andrew could not help asking.

  “Take him with me to the ladies’ WC and let him deal with it there,” Nan said, without a blush. That was all right, Andrew blushed for her, as she had pretty much expected he would.

  The poor fellow really didn’t quite know how to react to them. But in Nan’s estimation, that was all to the good. It meant he was less likely to try and stop them if they did something unladylike.

  Since she had no intention of changing her behavior, that was entirely likely. She and Sarah were going to have to watch what they did quite carefully once they were on their own—at least, insofar as when they were likely to be observed—so she was going to make the most of this freedom.

  The countryside sped by. This was not an express, which meant that they stopped at virtually every station. At least the level of comfort made this a great deal less onerous than it could have been. A steward appeared, bearing tea, and did not even blink at the birds. “If you would care for a late breakfast, the dining car is available to you or I can bring you a repast. I also have been informed as to the nature of your pets, miss,” he told Sarah with great dignity. “The Great Western Railway is prepared to offer them the same care as our human passengers.” And to prove it, he next produced a stack of yesterday’s newspapers, and asked if, in lieu of birdseed, the birds would prefer curried rice with chicken or vegetables.

  “Chicken!” shouted Grey, spreading her wings with delight, while Neville bobbed with excitement and clucked. Now the steward looked startled.

  Sarah shrugged, and chuckled. “I think you have your answer,” she said. “I think vegetables along with the chicken would be wise, if that is possible.”

  The steward blinked. “Pardon, miss, but that does seem a bit like… cannibalism.”

  “Hawks eat chicken,” Grey retorted.

  The steward looked a little discomfited at talking to a bird, but bravely made the attempt. “So they do… ah… miss. Chicken with vegetable curried rice for two.”

  “They like digestive biscuits too.” Sarah turned to give the birds a stern look. “But only if you eat them over the newspaper. I won’t have crumbs all over this compartment. And no playing with the food. Eat it neatly and nicely.” She turned back to the steward. “Thank you; we will take our breakfast in the dining car. If you would be so kind, spread the papers on the floor, put the carriers on the papers, and put the food and water in bowls on the floor in front of the carriers. That will be the most secure. They’ll manage from there. When they are finished, they’ll return to the chairs.”

  Now, Nan had been planning on doing all that herself, but evidently, this was the sort of request that the steward was expecting, as he nodded, said “Certainly, miss,” and retired. As he did, she heard him muttering to himself “Blimey. Them birds behave better than some peoples’ brats.”

  Nan looked askance at Sarah. “We could have done all that,” she pointed out.

  Sarah nodded. “We could, but we shouldn’t. We are expected to demand a certain level of service, and if we don’t ask for things like that, we won’t fit. Memsa’b explained this all to me. I don’t really like it myself, but she promised me that this would ultimately make less trouble for us. A couple of wealthy girls with odd pets is eccentric. A couple of girls who clearly aren’t accustomed to first class travel, with odd pets, is suspicious.”

  “Yes, true,” Andrew put in, “But what could they do about it?”

  “For one thing, as soon as we changed trains, our first class compartment could mysteriously become unavailable,” Sarah told him. “For another, the authorities could be notified. We could find ourselves held up for hours, answering questions over and over. Worst case, we could find ourselves locked up as potential ticket thieves, ticket forgers, or mentally unstable.” She sighed. “Memsa’b has had to deal with this sort of thing before—I am more than willing to take her word for it. And I am willing to go along with it as long as all it takes is pretending to a little arrogance. Besides, Lord A gave us spending money, plenty to tip generously for his services when we leave this train.”

  Nan had to chuckle at that. “You might not have heard him as he left, but I did. He said the birds had better manners than some peoples’ children.”

  Soon as he had promised, the steward arrived with dishes of curried rice, water, and biscuits on a tray. “If you’d care to step along to the car, miss, sir, I’ll take care of your pets,” he said—quite cheerfully. His face grew even more cheerful when, after he had put down the tray and opened the door for them, Sarah pressed something into his hand and with a sweet smile, murmured “Thank you.”

  The dining car was the equal of any restaurant that Lord Alderscroft had ever taken them to, and so was the menu. Nan was in heaven. She did enjoy her food, and she and Sarah had endured many an absolutely horrid meal to and from Sarah’s parents’ mission in Africa. Andrew came more to life over the table, and at Sarah’s prompting, told them stories of how things were at Cambridge for a second year student. Nan was quite content just to listen.


  Finally Sarah sighed. “I would love to go to university,” she said wistfully.

  “Why not go, then?” Andrew asked. “There are colleges for women.”

  “Because neither Oxford nor Cambridge will allow us degrees, so what’s the point?” Sarah retorted sharply, at odds with her usual good humor.

  That occasioned some silence. “What would you do with a degree if you had one?” he asked, finally.

  “The same thing that a man would.” Sarah looked him in the eyes and dared him to contradict her. He looked suitably cowed. “There are plenty of men out there who do absolutely nothing with their degrees other than to reminisce about their days at university and impress people who don’t have one,” she continued crossly. “At least I would make some use of it.”

  He quickly changed the subject.

  She was in better humor over the tea, and they returned to their compartment with Nan, at least, feeling entirely pleased with the world. They were greeted enthusiastically by the birds, which were perched politely on either side of a sturdy wooden smoking stand set in front of the window, with papers underneath them, and saucers of water and biscuits in front of them. The contraption had a pair of protrusions that were exactly like perches, perfect for the birds. It also had heavy wrought-iron feet, so unless the train came to a very abrupt stop, the birds were unlikely to get thrown off it.

  “Great Harry’s ghost!” Nan exclaimed. “What a clever fellow that steward is!”

  “Nice man,” Grey said complacently.

  8

  BIRMINGHAM was horrid.

  The smoke from thousands of factory chimneys hung low in the air and could be seen from well outside the city. Not only did the birds go into their carriers, but Andrew suggested, and carried out, the precaution of wetting the gauze they layered over the netting “windows” before they fastened the flaps down over them. Nan was glad that they had, for the gauze was grey when she took it out.

  The trip until then had been lovely; the train had gone through Reading, Didcot, Oxford, Banbury, and Leamington Spa, stopping at each station, but not for terribly long. By unspoken consent, they took the opportunity to plumb Andrew’s brain for ideas on how to go about their appointed task.

  “What would you do in order to locate an unknown new Elemental Master if the Elementals refused to tell you who it was or where he was?” Nan asked bluntly. The birds turned their attention from the landscape rolling past to the occupants of their room.

  Andrew blinked. “Is that what Lord A wants you to do?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking puzzled. “I suppose if the Elementals are holding mum on the subject and they aren’t afraid, he reckons that you’ve got as good a chance as anyone else he knows of. And you can’t exactly hire an investigator and tell him you’re looking for a magician.”

  “True, true. So? Where would you start?”

  Andrew drummed his fingers absently on the arm of his chair, brows furrowed, thinking hard. “Well… a lone Master, just beginning… and up there on the coast… he can’t really know anyone, since if he did, it would be one of us, and Lord Alderscroft would have gotten word by now.”

  “It might be a she,” Sarah pointed out. “That alone might be why the Elementals won’t tell him. Lord A is a dear, but…” she made a face, “he hasn’t got a high opinion of women in general. I think he thinks that Memsa’b and Nan and I are the exceptions that prove the rule.”

  Andrew nodded earnestly. “That might be. Or could still be he, but someone very common. Actually, all alone on the coastline, that’s a near certainty. And Welsh. So there’re more problems. Does he even know what Element?”

  “Water,” said Nan immediately.

  “So, he’s Fire, that’s Water’s antagonist… there’s another reason why the Elementals might stay dumb. Working man—”

  “Or woman,” Sarah insisted.

  “Or woman, Water, Welsh, and without a regular Master to teach him. Plenty of reasons for Water Elementals not to talk about him to a great Fire Master. For all they’d know, Lord A would be looking for him to crush him.”

  “So who would be teaching him or her?” Nan wanted to know.

  “Could be the Elementals themselves. If the mage is powerful enough? Could do them damage without even knowing, and certainly without intending it, so it would be in the Elementals’ interest to teach him.” Andrew nodded, to emphasize his own statement. “It’s not unknown. And after all, someone had to teach the first Elemental Masters, aye? Likely it was the Elementals then, too.”

  Or Puck, Nan mouthed at Sarah, who nodded slightly. Yet another reason why the Elementals would have remained quiet. Lord Alderscroft himself had hinted that the Great Powers might be involved. If not Puck, well, there could be a sea-born equivalent to the Oldest Old One.

  “So… how would I go about looking for him…” Andrew thought some more. “I expect I’d go looking for where Elementals were thick. You get a Master, even untaught, you get a lot of Elementals about. But they probably won’t show themselves to you, and you wouldn’t see them unless they did, since you haven’t the Sight for it. So that won’t help.”

  “Bother.” Nan would have said something a lot stronger, but she didn’t want to shock Andrew more than he already was.

  “Now… someone coming into their magic alone, at least amongst Earth Masters, tends to keep himself to himself,” Andrew continued. “At first, you aren’t sure what’s going on. Then sometimes you think you’re going mad. Sometimes you actually do,” he added darkly. “But I guess Lord A doesn’t think that’s going to be the case here. So… I’m thinking what you might be able to find is someone who lives well away from other folks, with one or two other people at most. He’ll be on the shore or on a river or a lake. He won’t want to be far from water. And there’ll be things about him that look like uncommon luck, because the Elementals will be helping him.” He shrugged. “That’s the best I can offer. At least you’ve got a general idea of where he is.”

  “An uncommonly lucky hermit by the sea…” Nan made a face. “I’m glad it’s summer. If we’re going to have to promenade up and down deserted shores, it’s a lovely time of year for it.”

  The entire trip from Paddington to Shrewsbury was roughly five hours, and they put into Shrewsbury around noon.

  There was just time to make the transfer to another lovely first-class carriage for the trip by express to Machynlleth.

  By now they were all starving again, not wanting to chance the food stalls at the station. When Sarah asked their new steward if it would be possible to have a late luncheon, the steward actually looked offended. “This is the Cambrian Railway, miss. Everything is possible,” he said with great dignity. “I shall bring you a cold collation, if that is acceptable.”

  When luncheon arrived, the “cold collation” was happily shared by the birds. There were some truly lovely cheeses, cold beef and ham, pickles of many sorts, lots of fresh fruit, and some of the best bread Nan had ever tasted. She decided that if Lord Alderscroft was going to send them careering about the countryside in the future, this sort of treatment was more than going to make up for any other hardship or difficulties.

  They whiled away the time until arriving at their final transfer by interrogating poor Andrew with every question they could think to ask about Elemental magic and Masters. The poor fellow must have felt as if he was up before the Inquisition before they were through with him, but despite being associated with Lord Alderscroft, they really had never had too much to do with his magic, and he wasn’t the sort of man you plagued with questions. So poor Andrew had to stand substitute teacher. He did put up with it very well, and Nan, at least, got a good basic grounding in it all. Normally Nan and Sarah would have kept their hands busy with mending, but that sort of thing simply wasn’t done by girls of the class to which they supposedly belonged. They wanted to look busy so that the steward, good fellow that he was, wouldn’t interrupt them, thinking they needed something, and perhaps overhear something he
shouldn’t. So they took out the sketch-books they hadn’t used since they were in school-lessons, and worked at drawings of the birds and their surroundings. The birds were perfectly fine with this; it allowed them to doze off their meal.

  This train sped along without stopping at all, and had them in the station for the last transfer before five.

  Here they parted from Andrew. By this point he expressed no misgiving at all as to their ability to fend for themselves, which was just as well, because they really had not wanted him to spoil the impression of a clergyman’s daughters that they needed to establish. Only the eye of a very knowledgeable person (such as the steward on a first-class carriage) would distinguish their sober suits from the same sort of thing that their personas would wear—but Andrew’s rig-out screamed “gentry.”

  This last train took a good two hours to go the relatively short distance to Criccieth, not because it stopped at every station, but because this was a smaller line, and the rail right-of-way twisted and turned the entire time. The Welsh countryside was lovely, but Nan was very glad neither she nor Sarah was inclined to sea-sickness, for all the twists and bends did make for a lot of rolling of the car. This was fitted out with two beautifully upholstered bench seats, firmly attached to the floor, with a table bolted to the floor between them. Even the little oil stove was bolted down. They were both glad they had prevailed upon their steward for that late luncheon between Shewsbury and the last station.

  So it was that around seven in the evening, the girls stood side-by-side in the last light on the platform at Criccieth, watching their baggage being taken off with a critical eye. Both of them were beginning to feel the journey, which at this point was well past twelve hours, and they were looking forward to its end.

  A gentleman with truly formidable mutton-chop whiskers approached them diffidently. “Miss Sarah Lyon-White? Miss Annabelle Lyon-White?” he asked, peering at them. He had a definite—and rather musical to Nan’s ears—accent.