“No, Tante Sabet was using them in guest rooms,” Aunt Arianne was saying. “But it seems she’s decided that now I have a permanent address, she has an excuse to redecorate.” She smiled down at Eluned and Griff. “If we go by airship, do you think you could cope with a trip to Lutèce, Griff? It really is past time you three met some more of your family, and we could easily fit in a trip to celebrate Eleri and Eluned’s birthday before the school term starts.”
“Really an airship?”
“Truly an airship.”
Griff danced briefly on the spot—a sign that he was still quite anxious—then said: “We could try. I want to see the Towers of the Moon.”
“They’re certainly worth seeing. What do you two say? Birthday in Lutèce?”
“Yes,” Eleri said, definitely. “So long as we can visit the museums.”
Collecting the picnic basket, they strolled out toward the grove, discussing the technicalities of travel, and the fact that they would be entering an area of different territorial allegiance, and all that entailed. Strange that yelling at Aunt Arianne had somehow brought about a relaxation, a feeling of family that Eluned hadn’t found with her before.
As usual Aunt Arianne studied the roofs as they walked toward the gate, though there was only a single raven today, which could very well really be a raven, and not people spying. But once the gate to the Great Forest had closed behind them she said calmly: “The Huntresses are keeping watch on the house as well. Personally at night, and probably controlled cats by day.”
“What?” Griff clutched at Eluned’s arm, looking over his shoulder as if expecting an attack. “Why?”
“My best theory is they’re watching for another sphinx attack.”
They walked through the tumbled walls of the town before London, to what had become ‘their’ spot: at the feet of a vampire turned to stone, overseen by a ram-horned snake of Cernunnos and watching in turn an automaton perched stubbornly motionless on a waist-high wall. It should not feel at all familiar, should be scarcely believable: to sit on the fringe of the Great Forest, to glance up at a castle shrouded in cloud, and across at a shining white tower, while remembering Dem Makepeace warning them about ‘passing gods’.
And then Eluned forgot even the wonders of Hurlstone as Aunt Arianne caught them up on all the things that had happened the previous night. They let her talk without interrupting because it was hard to believe they’d finally found what they were looking for.
“Then it’s over?” Griff asked. “The police will find out the rest?”
“I very much hope they will find the proof we were looking for,” Aunt Arianne said. “And there is a strong chance that one of those who died last night was directly responsible. But untangling this gang of thieves does little to solve the problem of Monsieur Doré, and of sphinxes, and whoever it was who asked for the stolen fulgite to be bought back. And Albans.” She frowned.
“I want to continue investigating workshops,” Eleri said firmly.
“Then be more than ordinarily careful. I suspect we are currently in more danger than previous, not less.”
“We better get on if we’re going to go today.”
Eleri stood, stepped toward the path back, then turned and walked over to the converted mannequin. And it dropped off its perch into the tall flowers on the far side of the wall.
“Did it fall off?” Griff asked, springing up to peer into the floral mass.
“No, it moved.” Eleri hitched herself up on the wall, then dropped down among the flowers. “And it’s…can you see where it went, Griff?”
Aunt Arianne calmly repacked the picnic basket and Lila watched with regal indifference as Griff, Eleri and Eluned hunted among cosmos and cowbells for an automaton that really was not small enough to hide so easily.
“You’ve got pollen all over your face, Griff,” Eluned said, trying not to giggle.
“Least I’m not wearing a spider in my hair,” Griff retorted, then hastily checked his own head. He was less bothered by insects than furred and feathered animals, but that didn’t mean he was willing to give them rides.
“What do we do, Aunt Arianne?” Eluned asked, swiping semi-accurately at her hair with her wooden hand. “How are we going to catch it?”
“I suspect the first step would be to stop trying,” Aunt Arianne said, hoisting the picnic basket. “The more interesting question, don’t you think, is why you suddenly need to?”
“You mean why did it finally move?” Griff asked.
“What were you planning to do, Eleri?” Aunt Arianne asked.
“Check whether any moisture had gotten to the mechanism.” Eleri’s nose was orange, and she stood indifferent to purple petals tickling her chin, her brows drawn together. “Can it possibly—how can it possibly have known? It doesn’t have any ears or eyes, and even if it did, I’ve picked it up more than once since we put it here. It’s never reacted before.”
“Not until you decided to open it up. Which of course makes the reaction entirely to be expected—what would you do if someone proposed to remove your lungs, just to check them over?”
“You—are you saying it read her mind?” Eluned scanned the area again, unsure whether to be nervous.
“I have no idea. But whatever is controlling Monsieur Doré clearly finds us strange and threatening.” Aunt Arianne set the basket on the wall, and looked at the gold-crowned amasen draped on a broken pillar. “Lila less so, I think. But we are effectively keeping…a kind of person prisoner here. I find myself decidedly uncomfortable with the question of what to do next.”
“We should put a pencil and paper out, in case it wants to write us a message,” Griff said.
Aunt Arianne glanced at him, then smiled. “I think I’ll do that. And you three, if you’re intending to be taken at all seriously at these workshops, better go wash up.”
TWENTY-THREE
The trip to the sprawl of workshops, factories and occasional farms that made up London’s west had not been productive: no new haunted automaton stories, and even fewer bored craftsmen willing to take interested children on a tour of the facilities. They were all too busy, or outright suspicious. Nathaner’s, which they’d particularly wanted to look over, had barely spared them two words. The only bright point was a smaller workshop called Gretcher’s, where they were given a cool drink while Eleri haggled her way down to almost all the money she carried in exchange for an extensive fine tool set.
“You drive a hard bargain, young dama,” the workshop foreman said. “I’m making you a gift here, but it’s better than them gathering dust, I confess.”
“I’m glad you can spare them,” Eleri said, buckling shut the last of the packs.
“We don’t have anyone who does the miniature work any more,” the man said sadly. “True automatons have become a luxury. It’s all ugly little boxes on wheels these days, with no thought to artistry.”
“Not everywhere,” Eleri said, with all the determination of the future she had mapped out for herself.
They waved the man goodbye and shouldered their packs. “Enough for the day,” Eluned said firmly.
“Let’s take a taxi back,” Griff said.
“Don’t have the money,” Eleri told him.
“Aunt could pay when we got there.”