The Witch Watch (8 page)

“Seems odd that a member of the royal family could go missing without us hearing about it,” the captain said accusingly.

“Perhaps odd, but not impossible,” the woman replied. “And the book corroborates his story in a way.”

“You have Simon’s book!” Gilbert said in surprise at seeing the evil thing in her hands. Although, it looked much less menacing now. A number of bright hair ribbons hung from between its pages, waving slightly in the wind.

“Werner Krauss was a strong believer in the power of royal blood. He was physician to... Ferdinand II, I think?” She seemed to be asking herself this question. “He did a great many experiments on royal blood and was convinced that it had unique magical properties. For my part, I don’t believe it. I don’t see why sitting on any throne, no matter how well adorned, should impart any special magics to the blood. If his studies were based in any way on observation, then he was probably simply seeing the effects of comfort, cleanliness, and having a good diet. I suspect that anything he wrote about royal blood could apply just as well to anyone well-fed and well-rested.”

“Would you mind not teaching sorcery to the abomination?” the captain snapped.

“The abomination has a name,” Gilbert offered. “My surname is Hiltman.”

“So you said,” muttered the captain.

“You can also call me Gilbert, if we’re going to be friends,” he added. Gilbert could no longer smile, so he did his best to convey one with his tone as he said this. It earned him another kick from one of the men. It reminded him of being in a fight while drunk; he could feel the blows, but the pain was subdued and distant.

“Please stop that, Jack,” the woman said, slightly irritated. “Call him whatever you like, but there’s no sense in beating on him. It’s obvious he doesn’t care or he would have stopped antagonizing you several blows ago.” She turned to the captain and held up the book, “At any rate, I wasn’t teaching him sorcery, but history, which is harmless enough. The point is that Krauss would have called for royal blood in a revivification like this. Since this cult was working from this book, it stands to reason that they would follow his methods.”

“So let’s assume he is telling us the truth,” the captain said. “Would it hurt the princess if we were to take his head off?”

“Possibly,” she said, looking down at the book again. “The cleanest, safest way of resolving this would be to recover the vigor from this one and restore it to her. Then we could be sure that he would stay dead and that she would recover fully.”

“That means doing sorcery, doesn’t it?” the captain said warily.

“Yes.”

The captain let out a long, uneasy breath. They were obviously on shaky ground here. He seemed to let this idea settle before he spoke again, “Do you know how to do it?”

“No. Research will be required. And I’ll need the specimen.” There was murmuring from the men at this.

“Are you talking about bringing this... thing back to Grayhouse?” This came from Jack, the fellow who had been cursing and stomping on Gilbert.

“Do you have better lodgings?” the woman asked. “I shall need use of my library and tools, and would prefer to have a roof over my head while I employ them.”

“We are charged with exterminating these monsters, not making them our pets!” Jack fumed.

“We are charged with protecting the people - and Her Majesty in particular - from supernatural threats,” she reminded Jack. “Killing the unliving is one means to that end. This is another, however unsavory you may find it.”

“We are not bringing a God-damned abomination back to the lodgings given to us by Her Majesty,” Jack shouted.

The captain raised his voice to match Jack’s, “Kicking this slab of dead flesh did not earn you a sudden promotion, Mister Stanway, and so I remain in charge. If your concern is for holiness, then perhaps you ought to see to your own blasphemy. And if your concern is for Her Majesty, then ask yourself which is more precious to her? I imagine she would gladly trade our home and everything in it to have her daughter returned.”

Jack stood, which caused the cart to wobble slightly, “We don’t even know that she’s in any danger at all. This creature is certainly filled with lies, and I can scarcely believe you’re entertaining them. I should almost think you were bewitched.”

The captain stood also, but he was suddenly quiet. “Are you charging me with bewitchment, Mister Stanway?”

A long silence hung over the cart. The two men met each other’s gaze and held their stalemate for several moments. “No,” Jack said at last, retreating slightly. “I’m only saying it is unlike your custom to show deference to the unliving.”

“Not to the unliving, but to Her Majesty.”

Jack looked around. “Does no one else stand with me?”

The reply was silence. Jack sat down. “Very well, I have nothing more to say on the matter.” His tone seemed to indicate otherwise.

“Good. Go around and knock on a few doors. Let folks know the abomination is dealt with, and don’t say more beyond that. They’re spooked enough and are probably expecting the end of the world, so be gentle with them. Speak to the priest and tell him he can have his church back. He’ll be glad for that.”

The mood cooled once Jack left with the other member of the Watch. This left only the captain and the woman.

“So how do we get it inside of Grayhouse?” the captain asked.

“I can walk when not bound,” Gilbert offered.

The captain looked down at him, “You’ll be quiet if you know what’s good for you. I’m not so delighted with this plan that I won’t just take your head off if I find half a reason, and I’m inclined to go against your requests, so perhaps you’d best keep them to yourself.”

The woman peered down at Gilbert. “You should not antagonize the captain. If you knew anything at all about necromancy you would realize your peril. If the captain takes your head, you won’t return to death. Your spirit will remain bound to that dried skull on your shoulders, helpless and without the use of your body. Many necromancers have been buried so, trapped in darkness without hope. The illegitimate Pope Adrian II was buried this way a thousand years ago, and we could dig his head up today and find him still screaming for release.”

Gilbert nodded and kept quiet.

She turned back to the captain. “So, to simplify the problem down to its essentials: He can walk in, or we can carry him.”

“Allowing him to walk unbound is out of the question,” the captain said firmly. “However polite he is now, we can’t be sure this isn’t some ruse. Or he could turn feral. We might put him in chains, but then we’ll be leading a man in chains, and anyone that sees us entering Grayhouse will want to know why we’re keeping a prisoner there instead of putting him in a proper cell. ”

“So we have to carry him,” the woman said. “I don’t know that carrying a body around will look any better than leading about a man in chains. I wonder if we would get a casket here in town?”

The captain leaned back and considered this, “A casket? I suppose that would be preferable to hauling the body around like a sack of potatoes. Would still set jaws in motion, if it were seen.”

“We could make sure to bring him in during the night.”

“That would make us look even more suspicious, but less likely to be seen.”

Gilbert did not like the sound of this plan at all. He thought about what would happen if they changed their mind and simply decided to bury him.

It turned out that there was a coffin available. Several, in fact. An enterprising carpenter had heard all the gossip concerning the Witch Watch and the church being closed, and had anticipated that there would be a demand for them before the week was out. He’d built three of them during the day, with more planned, and was slightly put out when he discovered that only one of them would be needed.

The Witch Watch made every effort to support their deception. They placed Gilbert in the coffin (which was a tight fit) and nailed it shut, and then sent for the priest to have him perform the long-form Final Rites of Resting on the ‘body’. These unnerved Gilbert even more than being sealed in the coffin, and he counted it the worst part of the ordeal. Gilbert had never noticed before how much of the rite was dedicated to commanding the deceased (in the name of God) to stay so, and calling down penalties (also in the name of God) on them if they failed to comply. He thought it curious that the church put so much of the blame and punishment on the departed, and never stopped to address the question of what other people might do with your body once you had left it. This struck him as being like arresting a man for burglary because his house had been robbed. Was he responsible for his return to this world? Could he have refused? He wondered.

Once that unpleasantness was over, Gilbert felt himself being loaded onto the cart, and they began the bumpy journey to London.

Mr. Brooks,

I apologize for the delay in sending this letter. My duties with The Ministry of Ethereal Affairs are consuming a considerable portion of my waking hours. The remainder of those hours is spent attempting to raise a young girl. This has left little time for the conducting of correspondence, even with dear friends.

Alice is thriving, looking less like a child and more like her mother each day. She begs you for more watches, or watch parts, or tools, or any other items you may not want. Quite to the contrary of your purposes, giving her a few trinkets to play with did not satisfy her curiosity, but intensified it. She took the broken items you provided and combined the parts to form a single working whole. She now wears this watch constantly, much to my pride and to the frustration of everyone else. She has been reminded many times that a pocketwatch is not a proper adornment for a lady, but I would rather have my daughter demonstrate mechanical genius than fashion sense.

Before I address your question, allow me to correct some of the sloppy language you used in your letter. Specifically, the usage of the various words we have for people who use magic.

A WIZARD is someone who can invoke or command some of the primal forces of nature. They can, with no special equipment or training, cause supernatural physical activity around them. Fire is by far the most common, and in the last few years we have encountered perhaps a half dozen such wizards. Others can cause moisture to form in the air around them, which appears like momentary rain. I have also read about (but have not personally witnessed) individuals who can cause wind to blow or hurl small objects about. Less reliable texts mention wizards who could command arcs of lightning to strike. Regardless of the form it takes, this activity is physically exhausting for the wizard.

When I took this position, it was thought that less than one in a million people possessed the power of wizardry. As our work at the Ministry of Ethereal Affairs (PLEASE do not refer to us as ‘The Witch Watch’ again, I beg you) progressed, we revised that to one in a half million. I suspect that we are still under-estimating their numbers. I do not mean to suggest the number of wizards is increasing, only that they are more common and well-hidden than anyone dared guess.

By contrast, a SORCERER is someone who can create supernatural events through the use of sorcery circles. They write commands in circular patterns on the ground in order to bring about this magic. The commands must adhere to a rigid system of rules in order to have any effect.

The word WITCH applies equally to both kinds of magic users, and I must say I do not like the term at all. It was created in a time where people did not know or understand the difference between wizards and sorcerers, or even that there WAS a difference. Indeed, both the courts and the church still charge people with witchcraft, without bothering to designate which sort.

As I’ve gone through old records, I’ve often been saddened and frustrated by this imprecision. Over the last hundred years, almost a thousand people have been executed at Tyburn for capital witchcraft. Not once did anyone bother remarking whether the condemned was a wizard or a sorcerer. If they had only noted these very simple details, we would now be able to answer many important questions: How common are wizards? Is our confiscation of materials keeping up with the execution of sorcerers, or are there unknown books still in circulation? How many wizards are also sorcerers?

I suspect there is nothing that can be done to correct the use of “witch” in the papers, but I urge you as a man of education to be less reckless with your words.

Which brings me to your question. What is done with confiscated books? We keep them in a residence that has been provided to us. They are labeled and sorted, so that we know where each book was found and under what circumstances. I’m well aware that The Church would be enraged if they knew we were keeping these. In addition, I’m sure a great many aspiring sorcerers would delight to obtain them. I have often thought that it would be wise to find a more secure location for the books, but I can’t request for more secure facilities without explaining why. Right now the only thing keeping people away from them is that nobody knows they exist. Perhaps this is the most secure lock of all.