Part 6 (2/2)

”Some of them small and selfish,” said Athena. ”Wealth. Love.”

Day said, ”But there are others, larger organizations, who want the Sources to expand their nation's power to the cost of everyone else. Especially now that the world is expanding, the hidden corners of the planet being forced into the hard glare of an empire's sun. Such organizations can be found in all countries seeking to dominate the globe. They're even found,” he added, looking hard at her, ”in England.”

London swallowed tightly. ”And that's who you are.”

”No. We're the few who try to stop them. The Blades of the Rose.”

The name held a potent resonance. ”Only you and Miss Galanos?”

”There are many other Blades, found all over, but there are never enough. Our enemy is large and powerful.”

A sudden chill caused London to pull her robe tighter around her body. She felt as though she stood at the very edge of a great abyss. Any moment she could fall into it, disappearing forever. She was afraid to know more. She had to know everything.

She began, ”And those people in England, the ones who want the Sources-”

”They call themselves the Heirs of Albion,” he said.

London wrapped her arms around herself.

”The name alone gives you an idea of what they believe in,” added Athena darkly. She lowered her hands and the luminous...o...b..disappeared. ”England first. Above all and any. They do not care who or what stands in their way. They pillage and plunder Sources, eradicating any who oppose them, and subjugate whoever has the misfortune of being left alive.”

An awful thought, horrible to contemplate. But, then...she remembered hearing her father, her brother, Lawrence, and other men of their circle discussing heatedly how England deserved the greatest share of the empire, that the world was populated by savages and children who needed England's guiding hand. They never spoke this way in front of her, of course, but London caught snippets of conversation as she pa.s.sed them huddled in groups at parties or gathered in smoking rooms, away from women and frivolity.

Those men. Lawrence. Jonas. Her father. Oh, G.o.d. Oh, G.o.d.

London clutched herself tighter. ”I cannot believe you.”

”Opium,” Day said flatly.

”They didn't invent opium,” London shot back.

”No, they didn't,” he answered. ”But the Heirs helped England develop its crops in India and turn it into profit. The Heirs ensured Britain could peddle opium in China, turn the entire country into a land of poppy addicts. They used Llyr's Might to defeat Chinese s.h.i.+ps, and brought the whole of the nation to its knees. The Heirs were there, again, fourteen years later, your father among them.”

”I was a child then,” London protested. ”I can't vouch for the whereabouts of my father when I was only seven years old.”

Athena asked, ”Do you recall the autumn of 1868? Lawrence Harcourt, your late husband, was away then, wasn't he?”

London nodded slowly, recalling how they had only lately returned from their bridal journey before Lawrence insisted he had important work to do, and was gone for several months. It was the first of what was to be many absences. She remembered how empty and silent their house was, how she'd wandered the rooms like a specter haunting her own marriage.

”He was in India,” Day said. ”In Tirupati, stealing a Source from a temple dedicated to the G.o.d Venkateswara. Later, the Source was used to crush a pocket of rebellion in the Aravalli mountains. Women and babies killed.”

”Using India's own magic against itself,” Athena added.

”He came home,” London said, her mind drifting back, ”recovering from malaria. By the time he was fully well, he was gone again.” Not before they'd gotten into yet another awful fight, and he'd exercised his husbandly rights only once.

Was it true, what Day and Athena Galanos said?

”Gone to Constantinople,” Day said. ”He was wounded there, by Tony Morris, a Blade. A cut across his left shoulder.”

She knew the scar. ”No,” London said, her chest constricting.

”Yes,” said Day.

”You're wrong!”

He shook his head sadly. London turned to Athena Galanos and saw pity and truth in the woman's eyes. It could not be, but it was, and everything fell to pieces, cras.h.i.+ng around London and crus.h.i.+ng her beneath the rubble.

”Lawrence?” she asked. ”Truly?”

Day nodded, his expression shuttered. ”He was one.”

”And my father,” she choked, ”who is he to these Heirs of Albion?”

”He has a seat within the inner circle,” Day said. ”As his father did, and his father before him. I imagine that Jonas will take over, someday.”

London fought back tears. ”No. Jonas never leaves the house. Some months ago, he came back from a trip abroad. Burned. Scarred.” She and Jonas had never gotten along. He was a bully, stole her toys and tore up her books when they were children. And when they grew older, neither had much to do with the other. Even so, she would not for all the world have wished such a fate upon him.

”From the Transportive Fire,” Day said grimly. ”In Mongolia. He was with Henry Lamb, trying to seize a Source for the Heirs. The Blades stopped them.”

”How do you know this?”

”I was there when it happened.”

Her throat felt tight, choking her. She thought she would be ill. ”You caused Jonas's burns.”

”Your brother fled by jumping into the Fire. None of us touched him.”

She barely heard Day, her mind a whirling ma.s.s as she struggled to make sense of a world in ruins. ”If what you say is true, about my father and Jonas and Lawrence, then this entire time, since I was born until now, I have been living under their roofs, eating their food, wearing their clothes.”

”All paid for in blood,” Athena said, blunt.

”Mrs. Harcourt,” Day began gently, taking a step toward her. ”London.”

She gazed at him with stricken eyes, stopping him. ”I never knew. I don't think any of us women knew.” She thought of her mother, all the wives and daughters of her father's a.s.sociates, shopping, giving parties, paying calls, the girls playing with their dolls in nurseries, later making their society debuts. Each of them culpable by silent consent to rape the world of its magic and profit by its theft. While the dead remained mute but accusing, hovering in the corners of conservatories and over trim green lawns.

”The Heirs do not allow women into their ranks,” said Athena. ”However, you seem to be an exception.”

”Me? I'm not doing anything for them!” She shook her head in denial, even though she knew her protests to be futile, even to herself.

”But that's why your father has brought you here,” Day explained. ”He needs you to translate the ruins on Delos in order to find a Source. He wouldn't have taken you to Greece, involved you with the Heirs, unless the Source he sought was extremely powerful.”

Athena added, ”We've learned, recently, that the Heirs have recently seized the legendary Primal Source from Africa.”

”The Primal Source is the oldest and most powerful Source of all,” Day said, grimly. ”No one knows what will happen once the Heirs unlock its secrets. Something incomprehensible. All we can do now is keep them from taking more Sources, including the one here in Greece.”

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