Seven Dreams (7 page)

Her associate
proved to be male, and much taller — taller even than the Baron
himself, which he did not view with much favour. This fellow had a
little more countenance, he thought. The man’s face was expressive,
though his dark eyes bore the same bland expression as his
colleague. He was a partial Lokant, judging from the pure white
hair which crowned his head; though undoubtedly over forty, he was
by no means old enough to have acquired such a colour by natural
means.

Overall, the
Baron was not impressed. Such a colourless pair he had rarely seen,
even among the Bureau. They scarcely possessed a memorable feature
between them. He smiled upon them with gracious condescension,
aware that to find themselves in such surroundings must feature as
a high treat with them.

‘
It is
always a pleasure to welcome our excellent friends from the
Bureau,’ he said mendaciously as he rose from his chair, setting
his precious book carefully aside. ‘What is the nature of your
business here?’

The female was
casting surreptitious looks around his study, he observed. He was
pleased to note such an apparent interest in his treasures, though
she could not be expected to know anything about them. ‘We come
bearing a warning,’ she said, focusing her attention upon him. ‘We
have received information that something among your recent
acquisitions has attracted the attention of a Lokant of known
criminal connections, and we believe that your house may stand at
risk of a robbery.’

This confident
pronouncement somewhat took the Baron aback, especially since it
was delivered without an ounce of the deference which ought to be
due to his position. His brows snapped together, but before he
could speak the woman’s associate stepped in.

‘
Your
house is very well secured, my lord, we can see that at a glance.
Our superiors, however, judged it best to ensure you were aware of
the increased risk, in case you would wish to make further
arrangements.’

This speech was
much more satisfactory, and uttered together with a pleasing little
bow. But the man’s superiority of manner did little to convince the
Baron. ‘My good man, do you have the smallest idea how many objects
of value are housed here?’ he demanded. ‘The combined worth of all
my treasures would buy your life many times over, I make no doubt.
It would not be the first time my beauties have drawn the avarice
of low persons, and I have spared neither effort nor expense in
protecting them. What, I ask you, do you imagine there is left to
do?’

‘
An
upgrade to your security arrangements, perhaps,’ ventured the male
one. ‘Alarms, locks, everything. Lokant technology can be difficult
to defend against, and—’

Here the Baron
felt obliged to cut the man short. ‘My systems are upgraded every
six months,’ he said with a dismissive wave of one manicured hand.
‘I employ the very best locksmiths, engineers and sorcerers,
naturally. There is no more to be done
there
.’

‘
Increased personnel,’ said the female. ‘Lokants are extremely
adept at infiltration through arts we cannot match, and it’s hard
to catch them—’

‘
I
have plenty of personnel,’ said the Baron.

‘
The
Bureau would be more than happy to assign some of its best security
operatives to this case,’ said the man. ‘They would be at your
disposal upon indefinite secondment, and they are well trained in
countering Lokant arts—’

‘
Out
of the question,’ said the Baron crisply. ‘I employ a great many
security personnel, all of whom are chosen individually by my chief
of security. I cannot countenance the admission of strangers into
my private household, no matter who vouches for them. I am
surprised it could be suggested.’

He trusted that
such a decided statement would silence their impertinent
suggestions, but it did not! They had more to advance. The Baron
became engrossed in the examination of his perfect fingernails and
heard very little, until the word “key” caught his
attention.

‘
I
possess no keys,’ said the Baron promptly. ‘Except those which open
my own doors, of course, all of which are perfectly plain and
ordinary.’

His visitors
exchanged an indecipherable look; protested; asked further
questions, and made more suggestions. He had borne enough, he felt,
with rising irritation, and he put a stop to any further
communications with a few brusque words.

He thanked the
well-meaning persons civilly enough. He was a man of breeding, and
would expect nothing less of himself. They were wise enough not to
press the issue, and they took their leave soon after. The female
one did not make him a bow even upon leaving, which deepened his
displeasure considerably. He made a mental note to send a letter of
complaint to Lady Glostrum at his earliest opportunity. She was a
sensible woman, and if he just gave her a hint, he had no doubt she
would act upon it at once.

Teyo took off the
white wig as soon as he had got beyond Baron Anserval’s spacious
grounds. It made for a risky masquerade, as it did not take much
for a true Lokant (or even a partial, sometimes) to realise that
the white-haired pretender before them possessed no actual Lokant
abilities. Besides, it made him feel conspicuous, and he had never
appreciated that feeling.

Egg stalked
beside him, rigid with irritation. She had no patience for
foolishness, and was easily riled when faced with such fatuousness
as the Baron had displayed. But Teyo found it more amusing than
annoying. Such incredible self-satisfaction was usually the product
of a remarkable degree of ignorance, and he couldn’t help but
marvel at it. At least the Baron seemed to be enjoying
himself.

Serena had been
right to despair of the success of their errand, but she had also
been right to insist upon it. The fool had been warned; if he chose
to do nothing with their information, he could have no grounds to
complain once he had lost the sought-after, if mysterious,
artefact.

And lose it he
would. Serena was determined to prevent Halavere’s acquiring the
key, whatever it was, but she had no interest in leaving it in the
Baron’s possession either. She meant for the team to secure it
themselves, and Teyo fully agreed with her. Whatever this key may
be, and whatever it proposed to open, if it was of interest to the
Unspeakables then it was of interest to them.

The Baron’s
emphatic declaration that he possessed no such key gave him pause.
It had not appeared to him that Anserval was dissembling. Probably
he was telling the truth, which mean that either he had lost touch
with some parts of his collection, and had forgotten about a key;
or that the key did not especially resemble a key, and might be
mistaken for something else.

Or that his
information was incorrect, he thought sourly. His contacts were not
always reliable. They meant well, or so he believed, but they could
be mistaken. Or, perhaps, this key they spoke of was part of some
other operation, and nothing at all to do with Dame
Halavere.

No matter. They
had to proceed with the information at hand, and hope for the best.
The fact that even the Baron had no idea which object Halavere
might be after was a problem, though. Anserval’s house was stuffed
to the rafters with trinkets; how could they possibly expect to
identify which was the one Halavere wanted?

‘
Pompous idiot,’ muttered Egg. Teyo grunted a wordless
agreement.

A carriage stood
waiting for them in a side road just out of sight of Anserval’s
imposing manor. Unlike Serena’s ladyship-coach, as she called it,
this one was plain black and unmarked, and drawn by a plain,
unremarkable pair of nivvens. Wendle sat comfortably sprawled upon
the box, the reins held idly in one hand. He tipped his hat to Teyo
and Egg as they got inside and shut the door behind them. Teyo
realised belatedly that the footman perched unobtrusively at the
back was their new teammate, Iyamar. He would have sworn that the
footman was indeed a man, in spite of his prior knowledge; nothing
at all would betray her true identity otherwise, save perhaps for
the curious look she had given Teyo and Egg as they disappeared
inside the carriage.

This coach was
roomy inside, though never quite roomy enough for their purposes.
Teyo swapped his white wig for a plain, straw-blonde one he dug out
of one of the boxes stashed between the carriage’s seats. His
Bureau tunic and trousers came off, to be stuffed hastily inside
the costume box. He donned in their place the unobtrusive, neat
browns of a gardener. It would be better to pose as a footman for
this task, but Anserval was one of those who insisted on purchasing
a special, highly distinctive uniform for his indoor staff, and
they hadn’t had time to have a copy made.

‘
Prosing prat,’ continued Egg, as she rapidly swapped her own
costume for the whites of a housemaid, exchanged her wig for a
brown one with a neat chignon, and dusted a blush of pink onto her
cheeks. By the time she was finished, her whole demeanour had
changed – everything from her posture to her movements, gestures,
accent. Everything. Teyo always marvelled at her remarkable ability
to turn into someone else entirely at a moment’s notice, a talent
she shared with Serena and Fabian. She even seemed to be taller
than she had a few moments ago. His own abilities in that direction
were much more limited. He was never fully able to hide such
distinctive features as his height and broad shoulders, and even
his shaggy hair resented its orders to disappear properly beneath a
wig.

It was fortunate
that he possessed other talents.

Once they were
ready, Teyo thumped on the roof of the carriage. Wendle, ever
reliable, moved off at once, and within minutes they had arrived
near the rear of the manor. Egg exited the carriage first, Teyo
following behind.

They were obliged
to walk a little way to reach the house. Egg led the way, routing
them behind a tall hedge. Teyo did his best to keep his head down,
though he was uncertain of his success. Baron Anserval’s country
mansion was almost as impressive from the rear as it was from the
front. If anything it looked even larger without the complementary
setting of ornamental gardens. Little decoration adorned the back;
this space was taken up mostly with the stables, workshops,
brewery, buttery, dairy and other outbuildings. The house itself
was built from a luxurious golden stone, but the outbuildings were
made from a mere grey substance which Teyo found most unattractive.
It was of a piece with the Baron’s general character, he reflected;
the man cared mostly for show.

Teyo stood watch
as Egg made her way into the house. She nimbly avoided the notice
of those few staff who occasionally strayed into the rear
courtyard. Her objective was to locate the Baron’s library, study
and gallery and divide her attention between them. She would
acquire the accoutrements of a housemaid’s trade on her way and
devote herself to dusting, most assiduously, every item of the
Baron’s collection she could reach. If she found the supposed key,
she would secure it and leave.

Teyo’s task was a
little different. He took Jisp out of his pocket and laid her
gently onto the floor. Then, taking a deep, slow, breath, he
assembled in his mind a vision of a similar creature, albeit of
more modest colours. His version of Jisp sported dark, woody brown
scales with subtle bronze highlights to its tail, and a cream
underbelly. He satisfied himself about the colours before he
proceeded any further, for it would not do to wander the corridors
of a fine house in a suit of clashing colours. When he was
satisfied, he focused his thoughts upon his vision and allowed his
body to change.

As a
shapeshifter, he was not limited to either his human or his draykon
forms. He could shift into virtually any shape he pleased, provided
that it was a living being. It was an ability his team had long
found useful, and as such, he was not surprised that Serena had
leapt to recruit Iyamar when she’d had the chance. To have one
shapeshifter on the team was an advantage; to have
two
would
be an asset indeed. He suspected, however, that she would encounter
some trouble there.

It was not
something to ponder over now, he cautioned himself. Focus on the
job at hand. His large human form rapidly diminished, changing as
it did into the skinny, four-legged, scaled and nimble shape he had
chosen for himself. When he was finished, he eyed Jisp from his new
vantage with some interest. They were approximately the same size,
now, and he noticed myriad shades and hues among her
orange-and-yellow hide that he could not see with his human eyes.
She really was a most attractive young beastie, he thought with
some discomfort. It was always disconcerting to take this
shape.

Off we go,
he told her.
Be careful.

She returned only
a profound sense of deepest derision to this last, and scampered
off. He followed at a cautious distance, watching to see that she
was not observed. She was not, of course. By this time, Jisp was
almost as well-trained and practiced as the human members of their
team. She had long since mastered the demands of sneaking, and had
even learned to alter the colours of her hide on occasion, if she
wished to blend in. She did that now, muting the violent orange hue
of her scales to a drab brown that barely stood out against the
stone-paved courtyard.