The undulating thread of the Thames, stitching in and out of the darker fabric of the night, gave Quare the means to orient himself, and he realized with a shock of recognition that he was passing almost directly above his lodgings – former lodgings, rather. Below him, Mrs Puddinge was no doubt enjoying the slumber of the just. What would she think if she looked up and saw her dead husband’s coat flapping overhead like a ragged spirit condemned to an eternity of restless wandering?
That errant thought reminded him of more recent deaths, of spirits that clamoured for justice and revenge, if only in the court of his own conscience. Was the murderer Aylesford still at large in London, seeking the timepiece that, in some fashion Quare did not understand, had both saved his own life and killed – at least, according to Longinus – Master Magnus? Sir Thaddeus had the hunter now, and Quare shuddered at the thought of what might occur as the Old Wolf subjected the device to a thorough examination. Grimalkin’s warning had been amply borne out, it seemed to him, and he wished that he had thought to question her more closely on the subject when he’d had the chance. He would have given a lot to see her again; she was as intriguing as she was beautiful, and he did not doubt that she could supply answers to many of the mysteries that had so thoroughly entangled him.
As the vertiginous sensations of flight lost their novelty, Quare realized that he and Longinus were not at the mercy of every capricious breeze. They were moving with steady intent, like ships that hold to their course despite the vagaries of the wind. None of this was Quare’s doing. Tethered to Longinus, he could only follow where the other man led; though at times it seemed that he was leading and Longinus following as the two Personal Flotation Devices performed a drunken minuet, each seeking to rotate about the other in a freewheeling demonstration of pendular motion that would have engaged Quare’s mind had it not been so upsetting to his stomach. More than once they collided in midair, pushing themselves apart with grunts and curses before the lines of their harnesses could become fouled.
It seemed impossible that the mere manipulation of sand and gas, as Longinus had described to him, could bring their flight under control. But such was the case. Though there was not sufficient light to observe Longinus, Quare marvelled at the visible results of the man’s unseen actions. Small, purposeful alterations in trajectory, height and velocity nudged the two devices in a particular direction, cutting westward across the city, angling closer to the Thames. Quare felt as if he had been caught up in a waking dream, or come under the influence of a magic spell. All his senses were heightened. He was drunk with wonder and fright.
Then, after an interval that could have been seconds or hours for all his ability to judge it, they began to descend. The city rose to meet them, surfacing out of fog and shadow like a leviathan bestirring itself after a long slumber. Someone – confederates of Longinus, Quare supposed – had set a ring of torches burning atop a particular roof, and it was towards this marker that Longinus steered them now. But how did he mean to set them safely down? It occurred to Quare that landing might prove to be even more dangerous than flying. He watched apprehensively as – far too swiftly, it seemed – the Personal Flotation Devices came swooping in.
He cried out, certain that he was about to die, but then a handful of figures ran into the torchlight, scurrying over the roof as if chasing something too small for Quare to see. Even as they passed above these men, who, he noted, wore the livery of servants, a strong jerk thrust him against his harness, driving the breath from his lungs. Urgent cries rose up from below. When he could breathe again, he saw that the men were holding tightly to ropes that Longinus had let drop from his harness. The servants had caught these ropes in mid-flight and tied them to moorings set into the roof. Now the men were hauling them in hand over hand. Quare smiled at his saviours with a gratitude that bordered on love. They did not spare him a glance, intent on their work, and he loved them all the more for it.
‘That wasn’t so bad, eh, Mr Quare?’ came Longinus’s voice.
Quare could only grin stupidly.
But his grin faded as he took in the details of the roof. He knew them very well. There was the chimney behind which he had concealed himself two nights ago. There the skylight from which, wreathed in grey smoke, Grimalkin had emerged.
Longinus had brought him to Lord Wichcote’s house.
He was betrayed.
7
Lord Wichcote
WHAT SECONDS EARLIER had seemed like salvation took on a very different aspect as the men on the rooftop – there were at least a dozen – reeled Quare in like an eel dragged from the Thames … though that hypothetical eel would have had a better chance of slipping the hook than Quare of escaping his harness. Longinus had liberated him from one jailer only to deliver him, snugly trussed, to another. Perhaps Lord Wichcote did not want him dead, as the Old Wolf did – though it occurred to Quare that he had only Longinus’s word on that – but his lordship was no friend of the Worshipful Company. Lord Wichcote would not have had him brought here out of benevolent philanthropy. He wanted something.
The flickering torchlight imparted a hellish cast to the frantic activity below. Red-glazed hands reached up for him, taking hold of his legs and pulling him roughly down. Even before his feet touched solid ground, other hands were busy at the straps and buckles of his harness. Nearby, Longinus was being similarly attended to. The servants were well practised at this work, and in less than a minute had extracted both men. The Personal Flotation Devices were dragged to the far side of the roof; Quare surmised that the bladders could not be vented near the torches owing to the danger of an explosion. But that was the least of his worries.
The servants had not taken away his sword, as he had feared they would. Nor did they make any attempt to restrain him. In truth, it was all he could do to remain upright. His legs seemed to have become unfamiliar with the ground … either that, or the ground had grown less stable in the time of his absence from it. He would have liked nothing better than to lie down on the rooftop and close his eyes until the world stopped wobbling and his queasy stomach settled. But this was no time to give way to weakness. A grinning Longinus was striding towards him. He had lost his wig in the flight, and his bare scalp gleamed in the torchlight, putting Quare in mind of a vulture. He drew his sword.
Longinus stopped short, smile vanishing. ‘I confess I had expected a warmer thanks for having saved your life, Mr Quare.’ He motioned with one hand for the servants to stay back.
‘Take another step and you will find it hot indeed, I promise you,’ Quare said. ‘Why have you brought me to Lord Wichcote’s house?’
‘Ah, so you recognize it, then. Good.’
‘Lord Wichcote was no friend to Master Magnus, and he is no friend to the Worshipful Company, either.’
‘In that you are quite wrong,’ Longinus said. ‘His lordship has long been a benefactor of the Worshipful Company and a close associate of Master Magnus – I will not say a friend, because that gentleman, God rest his troubled soul, was not capable of genuine friendship with any creature besides a cat. But the two men, for all their differences, had a genuine respect for each other and worked together often, if behind the scenes. They did not always see eye to eye, but when it came to the interests of guild and country, there was no space between them. Only, it suited them to have the world believe them enemies. A secret ally is often of more value than a friend whom all the world can see, as this night has amply demonstrated. So put up your sword, Mr Quare. You have nothing to fear from Lord Wichcote.’
‘I think not,’ said Quare, his glance shifting to the surrounding servants, all of whom were watching intently. Yet not one of them made a threatening move in his direction. It seemed that Longinus had some authority over them.