The Perilous Sea (36 page)

“Nothing made sense anymore. Why did West disappear? Did someone abduct him on false premises? And if he isn't the Bane, then what had Icarus meant, exactly, when he said the Bane would walk into Mrs. Dawlish's house?”

“I felt we ought to speak to you, prince,” said Kashkari. “Mrs. Hancock agreed, because she had heard that your late mother was a seer. If Her Highness left any visions that can be of help to us, please let us know.”

Iolanthe could have predicted to a word what Titus would say and he did not deviate from form.

“Before I help you, I will need a blood oath from the two of you that you are speaking the truth and do not seek to harm Fairfax or me in any sense, now or ever.”

Kashkari nodded. Mrs. Hancock swallowed before she gave a jerky nod. Titus called forth the green flame of veracity and administered the oath. “We will disperse for now and meet back here fifteen minutes after lights-out.”

 

Fifteen minutes after lights-out, when Mrs. Hancock and Kashkari vaulted back into Fairfax's room, Titus laid the Crucible on the desk. “My mother's diary, which holds the record of all her visions, did not show me anything regarding either West or the Bane. But I can take you to see the Oracle of Still Waters.”

The Oracle's garden was quite different from when Titus had last seen it, at the height of spring. That too had been at night, but it had been fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers and lively with the sound of amorous insects. Now the light of the lanterns shone upon bare branches and fallen leaves crunched underfoot.

“You can only ask a question that will help someone else,” he told Kashkari and Mrs. Hancock.

“Can we each pose a question?” asked Kashkari.

“No. She will answer one question a week, if it is a good question. And you can only have one question answered by her in your lifetime. Although sometimes she might tell you a little extra, if she likes you.”

“I'd like to ask a question,” said Mrs. Hancock. She climbed up the steps and looked into the pool, but then turned back to the others. “I have no idea what to ask that would conform to the Oracle's requirements. Every night I think of the dead, all the dead—my sister, Icarus, and everyone else the Bane has murdered and tortured along the way. The need for justice has driven me all these years. I'm not sure I can honestly say that I am trying to help anyone living.”

Before any of the mages present could say anything, the Oracle laughed softly in her silvery voice. “Gaia Archimedes, also known as Mrs. Hancock, welcome. I have not encountered a great deal of honesty like yours. At least you understand your motive is vengeance for the dead.”

“Thank you, Oracle. But it does not help me with a question, does it?”

“What is it you seek to understand?”

“I want to know if Icarus was correct. If the Bane has come to Mrs. Dawlish's house. And how I can seize the opportunity to make a difference. I have devoted most of my adult life to the endeavor and I do not want to fail myself or the dead who are counting on me.”

“I am sure there is at least one living soul who would benefit from it,” said the Oracle kindly.

“I think the entire mage world would benefit from it. But I am at a loss to name one particular person.”

“What about West?” asked Fairfax. “If we find out who is behind his abduction, that could help him.”

Mrs. Hancock's face scrunched with agonized indecision. Titus understood her reluctance—if she only had one question, West seemed too peripheral a participant in these events to be featured in so central a role.

“Here is another option,” he told Mrs. Hancock. “Ask the Oracle how you can help the one who needs your help the most.”

This had been Fairfax's question last spring. He had thought then she had asked about her guardian; only later had she told him what her question had been.

Help me help the one who needs it the most.

And the answer she had been given had saved him.

Mrs. Hancock hesitated another minute. Finally, her jaw set, she said to the Oracle, “There has to be someone I can help in particular, even if I cannot name him or her. Tell me how I can help.”

The water of the pond turned mirror bright. When the Oracle spoke again, it was as if the syllables issued from the very soil beneath their feet, gritty and resonant. “Destroy what remains of the Bane, if you wish to save the spares.”

Mrs. Hancock looked back, incomprehension written all over her face.

Thank her
, Titus mouthed.

Mrs. Hancock did so, her tone subdued.

The water hissed and steamed before quieting to that of a placid pool again. Wearily, the Oracle said, “Good-bye, Gaia Archimedes. And yes, you have seen it before.”

 

“What did the Oracle mean by ‘you have seen it before'?” asked Iolanthe, after they came back into her room.

“This book, I think,” answered Mrs. Hancock. “But of course I have seen it many times; the prince kept it in his room for years and I am required to check his room periodically, both as part of my duties in Mrs. Dawlish's house and as part of my role as Atlantis's eyes on him.”

“What remains of the Bane,” mused Kashkari. “What
remains
of the Bane. What is missing from the Bane?”

“His soul,” Mrs. Hancock answered, not a question, but a statement. “A person who engages in sacrificial magic is said to have no soul left.”

“The Bane doesn't seem to care too much about his soul, does he?” said Iolanthe.

“Or maybe he does. Maybe he began to care about his soul when it was already too late,” said Titus. “Maybe that is why he is dead set on prolonging his life by any means possible, so he does not have to find out what happens after death to someone with no soul left.”

Sometimes Iolanthe forgot that he had thought a great deal of life and death.

“And what do you suppose she meant by spares?” asked Mrs. Hancock. “And why would we want to save them?”

“I don't know why,” said Kashkari, “but I am thinking of that book about Dr. Frankenstein—have any of you read it?”

Everyone else shook their heads. Iolanthe remembered that Kashkari had the book with him the day Wintervale had spun the maelstrom.

“It's about this scientist who assembled a monster from spare human parts,” Kashkari continued.

Iolanthe felt as if a cog in her brain suddenly engaged. “West is going to be cannibalized for parts?”

Titus stared at her. “You think ‘spares' refers to
West
?”

“It makes sense, doesn't it? If you wanted spares, wouldn't you want spares that looked like you, instead of someone el . . .” She was struck by wonder and horror alike and had to grip the edge of the mantel before she could speak again. “Spares.
Spares
. Fortune shield me—do you think this is how he—how he—”

Titus looked equally overwhelmed. “Yes, it must be.”

“Must be what?” asked Mrs. Hancock, her tone barely above a whisper.

“This must be how he resurrects.”

Kashkari fell into a chair. “We have heard rumors, but I had never believed them.”

“I have never even heard such rumors,” Mrs. Hancock said dazedly. “Why have I never heard such rumors?”

“I imagine the Bane did his best to make sure his own people never heard of the rumors—anything remotely connected to sacrificial magic would undermine the legitimacy of his rule.”

Iolanthe found her voice again. “That's why West was taken away. Not to cannibalize for parts, but to use as a whole.” She turned to Titus. “You remember what they said at the Citadel when the Bane resurrected last summer? They said he returned looking younger and more robust than before.”

“Because he came back in a different, but similar-looking body,” Titus concurred. “And that was how, even though they had blown out his brains in the Caucasus, he was still able to come back the next day, looking no worse for wear.”

“Taking over another body entirely—it is a frightful power. Have you ever heard of another instance of it?” asked Mrs. Hancock, her voice weak.

Kashkari shook his head. “Only in stories.”

“So it is not the first time West walked into Mrs. Dawlish's that we should worry about. It is the
next
time,” said Iolanthe.

“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Hancock.

“Next time we see him, it might very well be the Bane using West's body.”

Silence fell.

“I wonder how long it takes the Bane to ready a body for use,” murmured Kashkari.

“Something like that has to be contact requisite,” said Iolanthe. “Seventy-two hours, at least.”

“Let us assume the worst,” said Titus. “Let us assume that he will be back tomorrow.”

Mrs. Hancock made a sound like the whimper of a wounded animal. “What can we do? Do we attack him directly?”

Titus shook his head. “No use. We all know now that the Bane cannot be killed except in his own lair, where his original body is kept. Unless what I know of sacrificial magic is completely wrong, when he sacrifices another mage, the Bane must also sacrifice something of himself. That is why he always wants the most powerful elemental mage available—since he must sacrifice a part of himself no matter what, he would want to get as much out of each sacrifice as possible. And I would guess that what he gets from the sacrifice of a truly phenomenal elemental mage must be orders of magnitude greater than what he could achieve with a more ordinary one.”

“How does the Bane know that for certain?” asked Kashkari. “My uncle was killed before the Bane could get to him. The girl who brought down lightning is still eluding his grasp, as far as anyone knows. Before them, there hadn't been any great elemental mages in centuries.”

“There was one within the Bane's lifetime—there must have been, and in Atlantis itself, no less,” Iolanthe said. “I recently came across an old travelogue. Some travelers en route to Atlantis, back when anyone could visit the realm, had described the great maelstrom of Atlantis, which had just come into being not long before. That is stupendous elemental magic, to create a whirlpool that still exists almost two centuries later. But I have never heard of such a mage. Anyone wants to bet that perhaps this poor elemental mage would have been the first the Bane sacrificed?”

“And perhaps when he had done so, he needed no more sacrifices for a long time, because it had been such a powerful sacrifice,” said Kashkari. “And then, when the effect finally began to wane . . .”

Titus nodded. “In any case, the Bane is here because he desperately needs the next great elemental mage—there are only so many body parts he can give up before there is nothing left of him. It is our task to make sure that he never nabs that elemental mage.”

“But we don't even know where the lightning girl is.”

“Not the lightning girl,” said Titus. “Wintervale.”

“What?” cried Kashkari and Mrs. Hancock in unison.

Titus briefly described his mother's vision, and then the fulfillment of that vision at Sutherland's uncle's house.

An almost beatific light came over Kashkari's face. “Finally! I have been wondering for years the exact purpose for which I am protecting Wintervale. We should take Wintervale and go. Right now.”

“You can do it,” said Titus, “but I cannot, unfortunately. I must give an account of my whereabouts every twenty-four hours. If I am missing for seventy-two hours then another warm body must be put on the throne. So I cannot leave until absolutely the last minute.”

“Neither can I,” said Mrs. Hancock, “without my overseers immediately knowing something is wrong.”

“But I have been telling the boys that I am leaving for America,” said Iolanthe. “No one would be that surprised by my departure. So if you need me to, I can take Wintervale to a safe house.”

“I have a spare carpet you can use, if you don't want to travel by nonmage means,” offered Kashkari. “It can carry four hundred pounds, cruise at one hundred twenty miles an hour, and go five hundred miles without touching ground.”

“Wait a minute,” said Mrs. Hancock. “Why is Wintervale not involved in any of our discussions?”

Kashkari glanced at Titus. “I'm not sure what the prince's reason is, but I'll tell you mine. Three weeks after we met, Wintervale showed me a trick. He cupped his palms together and when he opened them, there was a tiny flame suspended in midair. I wasn't the only one he showed the trick to—I'm sure half of the boys on this floor have seen it, at least everyone who plays cricket, that is.

“I had a bit of a crisis after that. I came eight thousand miles, leaving my family behind, to keep
this
boy safe? This boy who couldn't stop showing off to nonmages, because he needed approval and admiration that badly.

“Don't mistake me. I like Wintervale a great deal, but I don't think he has changed that much in all the years I've known him and I don't dare trust him with secrets that ought to remain secrets.”

“So you plan to just grab Wintervale at the last possible second, without telling him anything ahead of time?” asked Mrs. Hancock, looking doubtful.

“His mother is here, but she does not want him to know that she is here,” said Titus. “We should all exercise similar caution.”

And his was the last word on the subject.

 

After Mrs. Hancock and Kashkari left, Titus took Iolanthe into his arms.

She held him tightly. “Scared?”

“Petrified.”

“Me, too,” she admitted.

The revelations of the evening were a mad swirl in her head. She wanted to go to bed and forget for a while, but she was afraid that if she were to actually fall asleep, then she would be caught flatfooted if something were to happen in the middle of the night.

“And to think that Mrs. Hancock is the one responsible for your being educated outside the Domain, at this nonmage school,” she went on. “It's true what they say, the threads of Fortune weave mysteriously.”