Impatient to get back, Eluned stepped up her pace. They had nearly reached the central intersection of the three massive barrows. It made a fourth hill, higher and outlined by a narrow ditch that Griff, Redick and Falwen were currently jumping over in unison, chanting the titles of the Suleviae with every leap.
“The Shadow!”
“The Light!”
“The Song!”
Eluned herded everyone onward, helped along by the arrival of a girl walking a half-dozen dogs of all sizes, sending Griff zooming ahead once again.
“You never stay and listen to the Solstice Singing from your home?” Eluned asked as they passed Melly’s store. “You’re even closer than we are—it must be so loud.”
“It is! But you have to go. There’s nothing like it, and they’re so happy when you sing back. I can’t hardly believe you’ve never seen one of the triskelion.”
“We were too young the last time the Solstice Singing was in Caerlleon. And we never travelled to one.” Always bad timing, too busy, or the crowds would be too big—but perhaps really because their father shared Griff’s travel sickness. Eluned had never known that.
“What if Aunt sends us away for school?” Griff said, dropping back to join the conversation.
“Then we can come home for the Singing,” Eluned said firmly, then paused as a quiver ran up through her feet. “Is the ground…?”
“It’s the tunnel digger,” Nabah explained, clearly used to the odd vibration.
“For the underground rail?” Griff asked, then shifted from eager interest to suspicion. “I thought they weren’t scheduled to go south of the river until next year.”
“That’s so,” Melly said, with a wide grin. “The lines that they’re admitting to. But they’re digging south of the river all the same. Here, and in Skepsey, and in Twitting. People have felt it all over.”
“There are not yet the big cut and cover excavations, like at Paddington,” Nabah added. “And if you go where they’re using the digging automatons to tunnel under the Tamesas, the vibration is much stronger. These are smaller tunnels.”
“For the vampires to get about in the day,” Melly added.
“For the Parliament’s private escape route,” Nabah countered. “Or their secret postal engine. Routes to lay electricity lines. Or a tunnel to the centre of the Earth. Or it’s mole people robbing banks, or even the Dragon of the East, restless in her bounds. Officially, there’s no digging yet, south of the river.”
They enjoyed themselves making up more outlandish reasons, and Eluned could see that Griff thought he now knew how Dem Makepeace had reached their house before sunset, and was eager to confirm that theory. But it had been a long day of walking, and the bags full of parts and equipment felt three times as heavy during the final trudge past warehouse after concealing warehouse. And then there were all those stairs to Eleri’s new workroom, though surely they could put that off in favour of a visit to the kitchen, and some quality sitting-about.
Thinking only of putting her bag down, Eluned was not pleased to discover two people in Forest House’s vestibule, one tugging the entry bell. The stranger turned as they crowded the outer door, and Eluned saw with faint dismay that it was a member of the Order of the Oak, her distinctive creamy brown surcoat featuring a triple row of dark brown oak leaves woven into the hem.
The woman at least wasn’t frowning, and the very large man with her didn’t even seem to notice them, staring vaguely at an umbrella hanging from the coat hooks. He and the woman made something of a matched set in their Oak-mark garb, both with glossy brown curling hair and skin tanned almost dark enough to match. On the chest of the man’s surcoat a single large oak leaf was woven, showing he was a Wise of the Order of the Oak—a dryw. He would have a grove of his own to look after, and people would come to him for foreseeing.
“There seems naught home, children,” the woman said, a border accent softening her words. “The price paid for rudely arriving without writing ahead.”
“Aunt’s probably upstairs,” Griff said, as Eluned put her bag on the nearest bench. “It takes an age to get down, unless you run.”
Before the woman could respond, the towering man made a pleased noise—the same sound Griff would make spotting a thick wedge of cake—and caught up Eluned’s left hand in both of his.
“What—?” Eluned started to flinch away, but the Wise’s hold was careful and she realised that it was the bite mark that had caught his attention.
“The Horned King’s blessing,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “To see His mark fills the day with light.”
Eluned supposed it was new to have people stare at her left hand rather than her right, but the man, although a little strange, radiated such genuine delight that it was impossible not to smile back at him.
“What does he mean?” Nabah asked, clearly fascinated.
Difficult. They were not supposed to talk about their visit to the Great Forest. “There was a little amasen in the grove,” Eluned began, and was saved from more when the main door of the house opened. Aunt Arianne looked out, along with the man from Sheerside, Dem Carstairs, and a blond man and woman behind them.
“Lost the key?”
The smile dropped from the Wise’s face, and he let go of Eluned’s hand, turning and straightening as he did so to a rigid uprightness that looked painful.
“The unfinished ones,” he said, breathless yet the words ringing out. “The near hounds. The knife of echoes. The path of cobweb. The shattered dragon. The trials of Albion are set.” He was shaking, and made a horrid gulping sound, as if he had swallowed his tongue, and then one of his arms jerked upward to point at Aunt Arianne. “Land’s throat. The quartered glance. Heart’s blood falls.”
Then, like a lamp switched off, all the light went from his eyes and he slumped. The woman with him caught him adeptly by the arms, and despite his considerable size slowed his fall and eased him into a sitting position.
Aunt Arianne’s face had gone completely blank, and everyone was staring from the Wise to her, but then she gave a little shrug and produced the faintly amused smile that made it seem like nothing ever touched her.
“Indeed the one thing the day lacked was a doom-laden prophecy. Perhaps you’d care to come in?”
Aunt Arianne sailed through drama as if it was a light headwind, asking Dem Carstairs and the tall blond woman to carry the barely-conscious Wise into the nearest sitting room, and sending the South London Orientation and Expeditionary Force to the kitchen to get themselves something to drink. Melly, perhaps catching signs of strain on Griff’s face, helpfully brought the Expedition to an end, and tidied everyone off, leaving only the adult visitors to deal with.
“Tea tray,” Eleri said, and kept Griff occupied hunting down the teapot so a fresh brew could be made.
Aunt Arianne must have tidied her own visitors away as well, since by the time Eluned led the way into the long, thin receiving room it held only their aunt, the Wise lying on one of the divans, and his companion sitting beside him, expression rueful.
“…first time it’s sent us will-ye nill-ye to London,” she was saying. “But once he’s taken the oakfire, there’s no other path until he’s spoken. And if it’s a foreseeing for a particular person, he must seek them out.”
“You’re his coafor?”
“Yes. Thede came to the Order soon after we married, when he discovered his gift, and so recording naturally fell to me. Ah, and I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Nedani Tyse, Keeper of the Banebury Grove. I’d love one, thank you, lad,” she added, as Griff held up a cup.