The Elemental Detectives, page 20
“Erasmus!” Jonas Hanway called. “Lock Mrs Page in the Sunday office. We will take her to the watch-house tomorrow. Mr Carper will follow when he is found.”
The Shepherdess tilted her head. “Oh, he will be found,” she said softly.
“Erasmus!” Jonas Hanway cried. “Erasmus! Where are you?”
The pews were still and silent. Erasmus was huddled with three other foundling boys on the steps, leaning against the altar. The girl in the blue bonnet was slumped by the font, her fingers brushing the penny whistle that had dropped to the floor. Children lay across the benches and on the floors as the candlelight flickered a dirty, smoky yellow.
“No!” Jonas Hanway ran to a small boy curled by the altar steps and shook him. “Wake them! Have mercy! They’ve done nothing to you.”
He took the bell from the loose fingers of the older girl who had fallen asleep, sprawled awkwardly on a pew. She was smiling widely. They all were. Jonas Hanway rang the bell as hard as he could. No one woke.
“Please!” Marisee cried. “Wake them. They haven’t hurt anyone.”
The Shepherdess bent towards Marisee. She was so close that Marisee could barely see. Instead, there was just water trickling through furrowed fields, the sweet scent of thyme and spring sunshine still too weak to warm old bulbs. Marisee blinked. The Shepherdess was once again a young woman dressed in blue silk, a young woman with a face that was so easy to forget.
“Sally Blake didn’t hurt anyone,” the Shepherdess said. “But the world hurt her. Imagine if she could have slept safely – enjoying beautiful dreams – until there was a new world, one where she could do or be anything she wished. One where she was not just a lowly apprentice sent to live in a pigsty.”
“But you will kill these children!” Marisee cried. “They will starve while they dream.”
The Shepherdess’s green eyes glinted. “No, Well Keeper’s granddaughter, you will kill them. The longer you hide the Freedom from me, the longer these children will sleep. Once it is in my hand, I will wake them up.”
“But I don’t know where it is,” Marisee said.
“Don’t test my patience.” The crook tapped the ground. A bubble of water rose and burst. “It is with your grandmother. You will find her eventually, I know.”
The Shepherdess returned her attention to Jonas Hanway. Her hands moved. The silver sparks swirled away from Nurse Page, stretching into threads and entwining between the Shepherdess’s fingers.
“Did you believe that you could escape justice?” Her voice was a murmur.
The threads shuttled and spun until they were the thickness of rope.
Jonas Hanway stood still as stone, his eyes fixed on those weaving fingers. He did not look afraid.
“If you wish to take me,” he said. “Do so. But save the children. Wake them. They have done no harm.”
In and out, loops and twists, the rope grew thicker, then snaked upwards. It slid through the space between two spindles in the banister in front of the gallery, wrapped around them and dropped to the ground. Marisee watched as the end of the rope twitched and coiled around itself. The rope pulled tight and it rose into the air. It was a noose.
The noose swung back and forth in front of Jonas Hanway’s face.
“This is not justice!” Marisee tried to grab the rope, but the watery thread slipped through her fingers.
“It is my justice.”
The rope whipped back in the air. The noose stretched like a yawning mouth and dropped over Nurse Page’s head. It hovered for a moment, no part of it touching her skin. Then, it started to tighten.
“No,” she whimpered. “No, no, no.”
She was clawing at the rope, trying to pull it away, but it slipped through her fingers. The noose began to rise.
“Please!” Nurse Page screamed. “Have mercy!”
She was standing on her tiptoes. Just a few inches higher and she would be hanging.
Jonas Hanway grasped Nurse Page, trying to support her weight.
“Stop this!” he shouted.
This is what befell Mrs Broxbourne. The Shepherdess laughed. “Isn’t this justice?”
No, Marisee thought. This is not justice. She knew that she would never be part of the jeering, laughing crowd who headed to Tyburn for execution days. She never wanted to see anyone die. She ran to Jonas Hanway, and tried to support the nurse’s legs. The rope pulled taut, tightening its grip. The nurse was growing weaker. Marisee was sure that she could see every single watery thread wriggling against the nurse’s throat.
The chapel door banged open. “Justice is due.” The voice was deep, but with a sparkle beneath it. “But not by you.”
Turnmill stood there. The Fleet Ditch boar was on one side of her, the fox-like Sadler on the other. A wave of water rushed past them, snuffing out the candles that lit the nave. The water glowed with its own light. The noose dissolved and Nurse Page tumbled down. Jonas Hanway grasped her arm.
“I promise that justice will still be done,” he said, pulling her towards the door.
“By me!” The Shepherdess laced her fingers together. A silver thread whipped away and caught in Nurse Page’s hair. Her head jerked back.
“Marisee!” It was Turnmill. “She’s strong. We can’t hold her for long. Red Rum is waiting for you. Go!”
The Sadler fox shot towards the Shepherdess. It was as slick as onyx, with the speed and talons of a falcon.
Marisee splashed towards the door. “Go where?”
“To where it all started!” Turnmill stirred the air with her finger and water followed, spinning across the chapel towards the Shepherdess, engulfing her within it. The Fleet Ditch boar roared, its snout drawn back, teeth bared. It galloped towards the whirlpool.
To where it all started… Marisee tried to think. This had all started when a girl called Sally had been thrown into Fleet river in a house on Chick Lane.
“But Robert…” Marisee started. She looked around. Robert was lying in a pool of water, asleep.
“Go!” Turnmill yelled. “Go!”
THE TRAP
Robert was floating. It was like hands rocking him backwards and forwards. He was tilted up and held firmly until he was steady on his feet once more. He opened his eyes. This time there was no pie shop. No aroma of meat and gravy. Robert wasn’t hungry. He didn’t need to eat. He was in a field. The grass was so green it made his eyes hurt. She was here. He could hear her singing, but he couldn’t see her. He sat down. He would wait.
The green field faded, shaping itself into houses, a statue, a grassy square. A man in a checked suit ran across Robert’s path, leaped into the air as if on springs, turned upside down and landed on the ground in a forward roll. He bowed.
“Greetings, Master Robert Strong.”
The acrobat grinned at Robert and ran into the crowd. A crowd? Yes, there was a fair in full flow in ... where was he? The place seemed familiar. This was the dream place he’d been to before. Leicester Fields. That was it. He would enjoy the show while he waited.
Actors strutted on raised stages, their towering wigs wobbling as they moved and their wide skirts knocking each other over. Robert laughed. Many of Lady Hibbert’s friends could barely fit in their sedan chairs because their dresses were so wide. Their hair often poked out of the roof.
Stalls were piled high with fruit and pies and all manner of toys. A small child picked up a miniature wooden cart with wheels that turned and a horse with a tail that swished as she held it. She waved it at Robert then skipped away. No money changed hands. People bustled from stall to stall, but all stepped aside when Robert passed them. They smiled at him. They called his name.
He passed two boxers throwing punches at each other in a makeshift ring. The crowd only cheered when the blows missed. The boxers turned to Robert and punched their fists in the air.
“You made the right decision, Robert!”
He smiled at them all and waved. A cheer rippled through the crowd. This was his place. This was where he belonged. Something brushed against his head. He touched it. He was wearing a turban again. He knew that this was not from Lady Hibbert’s dressmaker. This was one like the king in the painting. He lifted his arm. The sleeve of his robe was white edged with blue.
He passed a wooden table with baskets piled high with oranges. He paused. Did he like oranges? He couldn’t remember. The young man behind it called out. He was dark-skinned like Robert. He reminded Robert of someone.
“Keke!” the young man called.
Keke? Was that him, Robert? Did he know this man?
“It’s me! Zeke!”
Zeke? A thought was trying to shape itself, but it kept blurring. Robert quickly moved away from the stall, and he was back in the green field. Where was she?
A hand touched his shoulder. “You have paid a price to come here, Robert.”
The Shepherdess was standing next to him. She was resting heavily on the rusty iron crook. He realized now that her waistcoat wasn’t linen. It was the heavy brown drugget of the Foundling Hospital uniform.
“You didn’t know Zeke?” she asked Robert.
Zeke. Robert was sure that he did know that name. He strained hard, trying to remember the face that matched it. The memory hovered out of reach.
He shook his head. “I don’t know him.”
The Shepherdess touched his head. He felt the coldness of her fingers through his hair.
“Did you follow the tunnel beneath the wall?” she asked.
“Yes, we did.”
“Then you met the tithe-master. He took his dues from you,” she said. “I am sorry.”
“The tithe-master?” Robert said. “No, I was lucky. I told him that he could take a tenth of my memories, but I escaped without paying him.”
The Shepherdess sighed. “I wish it was so, Robert.”
But it was so! Hadn’t Robert and Marisee raced away before anything could happen? So why did Robert feel that he should know who Zeke was? Why was there a blur inside his head as if something had been wiped away?
The Shepherdess’s finger pressed hard into Robert’s head. “When you give me the Freedom, I will make sure that whatever the tithe-master has taken will be restored to you.”
Her finger lowered. Robert rubbed the place where it had been. Was the Shepherdess right about his memories? He recalled the Hibberts and Mrs Wandle and Lizzie. He remembered Mama and his sisters and… And something important. Someone important. It had gone. They had gone. He wanted them back.
“How can I give you the Freedom?” he asked. “I don’t know where it is.”
The Shepherdess laughed a light, happy laugh, though her eyes were as hard as rock. “The Magogs are not the only ones who have spies all over London,” she said. “My sleepers bring news to the Ether. Madam Blackwell has the Freedom and I know where she is.”
Suddenly, Robert realized that he was laughing too. “You know where it is?” Everything he had hoped for could come true now. “Where is it?”
“It has returned to where I first found it.” She pushed back her wide-brimmed hat and surveyed him. He could see the faint rectangle of the bruise on her forehead more clearly. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Robert took her hand. They were standing on the corner of a narrow lane near the banks of the Fleet Ditch. The water was solid with filth and stank of decay. The Shepherdess led Robert down the lane, away from the water. The houses tumbled into each other. The doors hung from their hinges, and most of the windows were covered with rough wooden shutters, nailed shut.
The Shepherdess pushed open a door. Robert followed. The ceiling in the front parlour had collapsed. Only the beams remained in place. The floor was filthy with plaster and dust. There was a dampness too, as if the river had sunk into the walls.
“This is where they brought Sally,” she said. “That nurse and that watchman. There are houses like this all along Chick Lane, but this one is marked.”
She pointed to the wall above a glassless window. There was a hole as if the bricks had crumbled away.
“Thieves removed the bricks,” the Shepherdess said. “It’s a sign. This is a house where secrets can disappear.”
They walked through the ruined house to a staircase at the back. The smell of stagnant water was heavier, the wooden banister split and flecked with mould. The Shepherdess released Robert’s hand and stepped on the first stair, pausing as if waiting to see if it would hold her weight. Robert knew that beneath the house was darkness and water. He didn’t want to follow her.
Nothing in dreams is real. He must remember that.
The Shepherdess disappeared. Robert heard the creak of old wood, then silence.
Nothing in dreams is real.
He took a deep breath and walked down towards the basement, keeping his tread light on the rotting wood. Neither he nor the Shepherdess carried a lantern, but the air shone with a silvery light. He could see everything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
The basement floor was brick, more solid than the walls and roof of the house. The Shepherdess was standing by a trapdoor that had been fitted into the middle of the floor.
“Sally Blake’s body was never found,” the Shepherdess said. “I wanted to find her. It hurt to think of her alone. I went from tavern to sponging house, listening to talk of the secret places near the river. One innkeeper told me about this house, whispering quietly into my ear in case he was overheard. He said that this hatch is still used. When the tide is low, thieves escape through here, or hide their stolen goods in boxes below. When the river is high, anything that is dropped through here will quickly be swept away.”
Suddenly, Robert wanted to leave this sad, stifling place. The Shepherdess bent down and laid a hand on the heavy wood of the trapdoor. Robert hoped with all his will that she didn’t open it. Beneath it the darkness would swallow everything. Even in a dream.
“I lowered myself into the water.” The Shepherdess said. She rested her cheek against the trapdoor as if listening for sounds from below. “It was just shallows. There had been little rain that summer to fill the rivers. I crawled through the mud calling Sally’s name. The only answer was the rats scurrying by. The air grew danker and danker like it carried death itself. But I carried on calling for her. Then I saw it, Robert. A golden box, sticking out from the mud, glowing in the darkness. I dug it free. I knew it straight away, the Freedom that was lost somewhere in the earth beneath London. I held it to my face to feel the power inside it.” She touched the raised bruise on her forehead. “It marked me. I knew then, Robert, that this box could change everything. I was no longer just the spirit of a small spring that no one noticed or cared about. I could do anything and go anywhere.”
The Shepherdess straightened up. “But I was so tired, Robert. I fell asleep and I remember nothing more until I woke up in the Ether. My hand was empty. But the power the Freedom had given me…” She laughed. It echoed around the airless basement. “The Ether is not a place for elementals. It was created after the last London elemental war. The mix of leftover magic is like a poison for us. But there I was. That’s how powerful the Freedom is. The magic of the four elements let me enter the world of human dreams.”
She waved her arm. Robert returned to Leicester Fields. The Shepherdess was still by his side.
“It took me a while to recognize what it was,” she said. “But the Freedom has made it safe for me here. I saw Solids, humans like you, yearning for simple things, like food and warmth. But so many of them carried an extra sadness. They grieved for someone dear that they had lost. I didn’t need food or warm clothes, Robert, but I was full of fury. I wanted to see Sally again; I wanted to tear down whatever wall separated my world from hers. I wanted every sad and cold and hungry soul who came to the Ether to see those who they had lost, those who had loved them. I wished so hard that the power of the Freedom made my wish become part of the Ether.” She let out a breath. “It is why Solids come here but do not want to return to the harsh, lonely world outside.”
Again, Robert felt the tug of a memory. The scent of oranges. The whir of a hummingbird. He pushed the thought away.
“I was here for ten years, Robert,” she said. “I watched. I waited. I grew my power. I planned. But for all that time, I looked for Sally in the Ether. If Solids could meet the ones they had loved and lost, why couldn’t I?”
“But you didn’t find her,” Robert said.
A man cried out from behind Robert. A table had tipped over, scattering cakes across the grass. A pack of stray dogs fed on them, ignoring the stall-holder trying to chase them away. A shout arose from across the fields. A moment later, a boxer stumbled past Robert. There was a bloody gash above his eye. He did not appear to see Robert at all.
“I searched and searched,” the Shepherdess said. “I couldn’t find her anywhere. Perhaps she has travelled so far from pain that no one can reach her now. But you were here, Robert, you and all the others, brought to the Ether in your dreams. You needed more than food and warmth. You needed true happiness. You needed to feel love again. I gave you that.”
“And now the tithe-master took it away,” he said.
The Shepherdess touched the sleeve of Robert’s white robe. Her eyes were as bright as the grass around the stalls. “You will remember him again, Robert, when we have the Freedom. I held it for so little time, but even so I changed all this.” This time she held both arms wide. “Imagine what I – we – can do, if we can keep the Freedom for always.”
They had walked towards a fountain. Robert hadn’t noticed it before. The water sprung from the mouths of ten small stone lambs, their heads tipped back. The drops fell like scattered rainbows. The water arced higher and higher until it was cascading around him.
“Go with her,” the Shepherdess said. “Go with the Well Keeper’s granddaughter. She will help you find her grandmother. When the time comes, I will make sure that you continue alone. Once the Freedom is in your hand, call for me.”
“If you know where the Well Keeper is, why don’t you just find her and take it?”
“The magic is protected. It will only work if the Freedom is freely given. It is to stop the elementals trying to seize it from each other. It is why I couldn’t bring it to the Ether when I fell asleep. The magic binds it to the Solid world, in case an elemental tries to take it to a place that no others can reach. Now return, Robert. I trust you. I trust you to do this for me.”
