If that was correct, then Rian had talked to one of the thieves—the most probable people behind Aedric and Eiliff’s deaths. But she had spoken to dozens while sorting out the estate, none of whom stood out as particularly unusual.
Saying this, she added: “And then something happened to make them decide I had it after all. It’s possible Dama Hackett mentioned a strangely-behaved automaton, but since no-one stole Monsieur Doré while I was unconscious, that seems unlikely. Which leaves the sudden interest of a sphinx. If those sphinxes have an interest in the artificial fulgite, perhaps whoever stole the other piece has encountered them already.”
She turned to Princess Leodhild, careful to keep her tone entirely unassuming. “Did you have any fulgite with you, Your Highness?”
Princess Leodhild looked unexpectedly amused. “I did not. But that creature was not interested in me at all. Only the room I was in.”
Princess Aerinndís studied her aunt, then said: “I recall hearing that Prince Gustav assisted in fighting off the attack.”
“Roared about distractingly, at least. Though that axe of his is something of the Aesir’s, and might well have done some damage if he’d been silly enough to actually engage the creature.” She chuckled. “Too clever for his own good, that one, with his pretty little wing painted on his wrist. Lovely shoulders, though.”
‘A man with a painted wing’ was someone who saved money while not caring about the cost to others. Rian had encountered a couple on her own account, and treated them with due contempt, for the Dose was far cheaper than the equivalent the Thoth-den had developed for women. Prince Gustav’s motives were unlikely to be penny-pinching, despite Prytennia’s laws and centuries of Suleviae rule making clear the futility of staking claim to the Trifold throne by means of a blood tie.
Her reminiscent smile fading, Princess Leodhild continued: “There was an interesting lamp in his room. A small thing in a leather holder, not much larger than a travelling clock. It cast patterns on the ceiling. The cabinet it stood on was crushed, and I’m not certain what happened to the lamp. Once we knew about this fulgite issue, I amused myself asking Msrah whether he happened to own such a thing. Which he does not.”
“No reason to suspect it’s powered by artificial fulgite,” Makepeace said.
“It can be a working assumption,” Princess Leodhild said, shrugging magnificently. “We need to get on, try to draw some conclusions. Let us say the sphinxes are connected to the windstorms—based on their appearance during a prolonged storm, and Egypt’s sudden interest in helping us—and that they are hunting certain pieces of fulgite. And here is a thought: that theft of the fulgite shipment at the beginning of the year—that happened before the first of the windstorms, did it not?”
“Well before,” Makepeace said.
“When did this latest spate of haunted automaton stories break out?”
“Those never really go away, but again…since the theft.”
“Excellent. So the shipment contained special fulgite—artificial or haunted—and these sphinxes want it particularly. They certainly seem able to find it, if our understanding of the events at Sheerside are correct, which suggests some connection. Perhaps it’s the Egyptians who have developed a process for creating artificial fulgite. A god-touched method would explain the success.”
The princess glanced at Makepeace, who didn’t respond, so she continued.
“But even if that was so, it does not explain the determination to retrieve fulgite if they can produce it. There must be something more, a reason why the Huntresses have descended on us in such force.”
“It was news of the sphinxes that brought them,” Makepeace said. “Not fulgite.”
“Sphinxes from Hatshepsu’s tomb, hunting fulgite, and in turn sought by Egypt.” The princess pursed her lips. “Could Hatshepsu herself have Answered? Done something to her tomb guardians that allows them to produce fulgite?”
“What, lay it like eggs?”
Princess Leodhild made a choking noise, then threw her head back and laughed. Makepeace grimaced, but Princess Aerinndís smiled.
Rian looked away, and found Makepeace was watching her, but thankfully he didn’t comment, simply saying: “I hope you’re wrong, Hildy.”
“So am I,” Princess Leodhild said, sobering. “If this is artificial fulgite, and it is produced not by chemical process, but by some god-touched gift, and whatever produces it is here…”
“Then we will no doubt receive many more deputations offering to help with windstorms,” Princess Aerinndís said, unmoved by visions of disaster. “This theory is almost entirely guesswork.”
“Oh yes, held together by string and paste,” Princess Leodhild agreed. “Still, the timing makes me fairly certain that there is a link between the storms and those sphinxes, and the sphinxes and the fulgite. The rest, well, we shall see. What about this climbing bull of yours, Comfrey? Linked to the sphinxes?”
“It didn’t resemble anything I’ve seen out of Egypt. At a guess, that belongs to the thieves.”
“A better description than ‘a clawed bull’ would help me in searching for it,” Princess Aerinndís said.
“How many clawed bulls could there be in London?”
“Do you have paper and a pencil?” Rian asked. “I saw enough to give you an idea of it.”
Directed to the table behind her, Rian produce a clean sketch, and slid it across to the Crown Princess.
“And yet, not an hour ago, you told me you hadn’t the talent for art,” Princess Leodhild said.
“I was thoroughly trained. This is simply a skill for me, not a calling.”
“The winds can play with that then,” Makepeace said, tilting his head to glance at the picture. “And send it off to Bermondsley to see whether she can identify it among the known god-touched—it’s rare there’s something I don’t recognise. I’ll continue on after the thieves. Hildy, you could, perhaps, tolerate more of Gustav in order to see where leading questions take you. And Wednesday will pursue Folly.”
There was a hint of mockery in that last, which Rian ignored, her own attention on the Crown Princess’ hands as she lifted the sketch.
“What of the second piece of fulgite?” Princess Aerinndís asked. “Do you not want to send it for analysis?”
“The original experiment—the idea that this particular fulgite will produce an automaton capable of functioning without command—is worth pursuing.” Makepeace folded his arms, and dropped his head down to rest on them, adding: “The thing is moving, isn’t it?”
“Not while we’ve been there,” Rian said. “But it was no longer in the place we left it. The amasen wouldn’t have shifted it?”
“Lila has been tasked with guarding and reporting, no more.”
Blinking at the discovery of a name, Rian said: “You can speak to them?”
“Cernunnos can.”
“Then that’s settled for now,” Princess Leodhild said, briskly. “Thank you for coming in, Dama Seaforth, and do send word if anyone else pronounces you saviour of Prytennia. Don’t forget that Tete wants you, Comfrey.”
Makepeace heaved another sigh, but levered himself out of his chair obediently. Rian quickly followed suit, making the briefest of bows before trailing her vampire out. She couldn’t resist stealing one last glance back at the Crown Princess, languidly rising, and then put the woman out of her thoughts.
Ignoring Makepeace’s derisive expression she said: “You really were at Forest House all along? Griff will be disappointed—he’s very attached to the idea of a secret entrance to the house.”