She gave the hand a disgusted look and added: “No chicken wire. Doubt we’d have been able to trace a thing if we hadn’t already had eyes on their tails. Our people followed the growlers, witnessed the offloading of persons and crates when they crossed the river. Also spotted two cats riding on the roof of the second of the growlers. These boarded the barge onto which the crates had been loaded, but were discovered and tossed overboard. One of my people commandeered a fireboat, and the other arranged an intercept.” She clicked her tongue. “The barge was a feint—they crossed the river to waiting vehicles and split up. We’ve recovered three of the crates, and one driver.”
“And?” Princess Leodhild leaned forward. “What was in these crates? Please don’t say chicken wire.”
“Fulgite.” Commander Delway tucked her hair back again, a movement replete with disgust. “Not the stolen shipment. More than four times the amount of fulgite that was stolen at the beginning of the year.”
“Ha!” Princess Leodhild slapped the table. “You lose, Bermie.”
Dama Bermondsley slid a pound out of a purse laced to her belt, and passed it to the princess. “I refuse to believe they’re mining it here.”
“And charging us through the nose for the privilege. You can’t fault their audacity.”
“It still doesn’t make sense—it’s not like we haven’t looked. A substance only Romans can find?”
“If you have a counter-theory for where all that fulgite has come from that doesn’t involve egg-laying sphinxes, I’d be glad to hear it.”
“What does the driver say?” Princess Aerinndís asked.
“Little enough.” Commander Delway selected a piece of paper from her pile. “Told to take the crates to Folkestone. Deliver them to a ship, the Pilgar, and then make his way back to Rome. Claims there’s been nothing improper in the company’s conduct, though cagey when questioned about people involved in this scene with the Tenning children. Would appreciate your assistance with him, Makepeace.”
As usual, Makepeace was propping his head on one fist. He lifted a shoulder, then said: “What was the thing at the airfield, Bermie?”
“Oh, most interesting!” Dama Bermondsley flipped open one of the books. “Not Roman. Hellenic!”
“I thought, technically, those were the same gods,” Princess Leodhild said.
“No, not at all—at least not before Rome’s Answered, even with the way the Romans went around telling everyone that their local gods were the same as the Romans’ but with different names. Look at their attempts to claim Sulis as Minerva—and we all know exactly what She thought of that! Rather a lot of Hellenes maintain that the split is along the lines of the Aesir and the Green Aesir—gods that separated before the main wave of Answering, and now are two distinct, almost mirror groups. Not a theory that’s popular in Rome, and one liable to put one in a distinctly awkward position if you happen to go around airing…”
“Didn’t we have a lot to get through?” Makepeace sighed.
“Ah, yes.” Dama Bermondsley coughed. “This particular god is Dolus, according to the Romans. Dolos to the Hellenes. Deceit and trickery. It’s extremely rare to see Dolus‘ powers in such a public display, but there were several recorded incidents of what’s known as the ’Sea of Lies‘ at the very height of the Empire, when the West and East schismed. It’s believed to be more usually used as a method of quiet assassination. I was not certain until I heard Your Highness’ fuller report, with mention of a woman and a man who had difficulty walking. These, I believe, are our god-touched.”
“Were,” Commander Delway muttered.
“Yes, chances are they’re halfway across the Channel. But that is not a certainty yet and—” Dama Bermondsley glanced restively at the wire hand. “Truly, I don’t care to think through some of the possibilities. Those who have given full allegiance to Dolus pay for his blessing with their ability to walk. This is due to the event that gave Dolus his area of duty. Dolus was an apprentice to Prometheus, and during his master’s absence attempted to copy a clay avatar of Veritas that Prometheus had been sculpting. He ran out of clay before he could complete the feet, and when Prometheus fired both statues, Dolus’ copy could not walk. The forgery with no feet was named Mendacium, and so are those who give their allegiance to Dolus. Their great skill is forgery, but there will always be a flaw, visible on close inspection.”
Everyone at the table was looking at that wire hand now.
“Mining fulgite and forging people?” Princess Aerinndís sounded less than impressed. “While also attempting to buy back stolen fulgite?”
“No verifiable link there,” Commander Delway said. She opened a flat box, and set out a row of objects. A fragment of burned paper. A charred mask. A piece of green glass.
“Min Wishon. Penry Hulun. Dane Dayson. Known to the Docklands Force for sale of stolen goods, but not picked up for anything in the past year. Dayson lives alone, adjusts settings for a reputable jewellery firm. She failed to appear some weeks ago. Reported missing, feared dead.” Delway touched the piece of glass. “An incendiary, source of the fire. What documents survived establishes a large amount of money exchanging hands, but customer names are abbreviated. The buy-back process appears to have begun in spring on behalf of an ‘M’.” She glanced at Rian. “An entry two days after the death the Tennings suggests a major sale. No further detail. No sign of any link to Ficus Lapis.”
Dama Bermondsley reached for the mask and the charred fragment of paper, and held up the latter to display its shape. A cut-out of an animal, vaguely resembling a bull, or a bear. On the half that had survived the fire, a horizontal line was visible.
“All the usual tests indicate that these two items have been touched by divinity,” she said, lifting the mask and comparing the two lines. “It’s either something very obscure—even less known than the Mendacii—or it’s something new. I’ll keep looking, of course, but whatever this Wrack is, I fear I have no guidance on how to counter it.”
“It—or this Dane—knew we’d finally found the trail, and cut their losses,” Makepeace said. “The warning’s likely to have come from the Fennington end, unless they’re able to detect the presence of other god-touched. I’ll keep looking into that.”
“Right.” Commander Delway packed the charred remains away. “Sightings of sphinxes. Been around longer than we realised, usually not seen in detail. Several smaller buildings whose destruction had been chalked to particularly bad windstorms linked to stories of flying monsters. One of particular note is an attack on Fennington’s Melksham Estate Workshop. They lost an entire upper corner of a building—sounds like they thought it an attack from an industrial rival.”
“And yet, presumably whoever wanted this Wrack to buy back the fulgite isn’t having trouble holding on to it,” Princess Leodhild said. “Either the sphinxes are under its control, or it has some means to prevent detection.”
“I’m guessing the latter,” Makepeace replied. “Pointless to buy what you can knock down walls and take. Anyone have anything else useful, things we’re not spinning wheels on?”
“Pieces of a puzzle,” Dama Bermondsley said. “It won’t be long before we fit them together.”