Page 45 of Boy of Chaotic Making

Hulda came in just then. The hem of her skirt was white with dust, and Owein could smell the debris even before he trotted over. She nodded at him, then turned to the Leiningens with a gray cloth in her hand ... or maybe it was red. Owein couldn’t be sure.

“I found this in the rubble,” she murmured, handing it to Cora’s father.

Prince Friedrich turned it over. “A spell?”

Oh, Owein recognized it now. Hulda had hung little bags of spells around him when he’d still been a house. To keep him from breaking things. This looked like one of those bags.

“It’s unlabeled, but I believe from the color and residue that it’s an alteration metamorphosis spell, specifically of shape change.”

Owein’s ears perked.I have that spell.Not that anyone could hear him. And not that it mattered;hewasn’t the one who made the ceiling cave in. Or the floor, from the viewpoint of the bedroom situated above the breakfast room.

The bedroom ... oh. No one in the breakfast room had noticed anything amiss, so someone must have used a spell in the bedroom to make the ceiling come down!

Owein pawed at Hulda’s dress.Maybe I can smell who did it.

“It’s a packageable spell, often used in construction and demolition for debris management.” Hulda’s voice had a cool edge to it. “It would explain why the piece that fell had such rounded edges. Someone used it on a specific piece of the floor, changed the edges so they no longer fit with the whole, and, well ...” She clasped her hands together.

“Very purposefully done.” Prince Friedrich’s tone sounded low. “Who can purchase spells like this?”

“Anyone with a license,” Hulda answered. “Or with the right connections. I could inform LIKER, but this strikes me as subterfuge rather than any enchantments within the house. Cyprus Hall isn’t haunted; if it were, by a spirit other than the marquess, we’d see much more activity than this. This damage was caused by a purchased spell.” She gestured to the cloth in the prince’s hands. “I am fairly certain this spell is not what collapsed that bedroom, however. Too much widespread damage. Surely it was something else entirely.”

Prince Friedrich stood. “Either way, I’ll send word to the police.”

The door opened again, nearly hitting Hulda’s backside. Merritt stepped in; his hair was damp as though he’d washed it, but he was inthe same clothes from this morning. The smell of dust and mortar made Owein sneeze.

Merritt, tell her I’ll smell for it,Owein pressed.

Merritt held up a hand to him. “Baron von Gayl is doing just fine. He’ll be tired from the healing spells, as is Mr. Blightree, but he’s hale.”

Briar stood, and Cora, her eyes swollen, stood with her. “I’m glad to hear it,” the former said.

Excusing himself, Prince Friedrich left. Probably to contact the police.

“Smell for what?” Merritt asked.

Owein pawed at the carpet.Smell for the person who did the spell. In the bedroom.

Merritt paused. “That’s not a bad idea.” He relayed the message to the others.

Lady Helen perked up. “Yes, yes! Right this instant. I want to know who is hurting my family!”

Or who is hurting mine,Owein thought, only realizing he’d projected the words when Merritt’s gaze met his. BecauseMerrittwas the connection between the two incidents. He’d been in the breakfast room when the ceiling fell, and the room that had collapsed had been originally assigned to him.

Lady Helen opened the door. Owein forced himself to hold back so as not to trip her—running out into the hallway was something a child would do. But as soon as the way cleared, he hurried after her, not entirely sure how to get to the room in question. He followed her up the stairs, through one hall, then another. The bedroom was dusty but undamaged other than the hole in the floor, utterly unlike the first bedroom. The windows were still intact.

Owein sniffed around, sneezed. Sniffed and sneezed. Sniffed again, even when the dust hurt his nose. But all he could smell was dust and Lady Helen.

He didn’t need to have words to express that his efforts had failed. He saw it in the slump of Lady Helen’s shoulders as she stood safely by the door.

“It was worth a try,” she offered, and dabbed her eyes once more with the handkerchief.

One of the perks of living in London and being an aristocrat was the timeliness of police. The inspector himself came to answer Prince Friedrich’s summons. Hulda introduced herself early and made herself available, expressing to the men what she herself had gleaned—that the house was very unlikely haunted and that the second incident was the result of a purchased alteration spell. She supposed it was fortunate that the repair crew had not yet begun work on the damaged guest bedroom, as the devastation was available for the police’s further perusal.

While the officers interviewed the family and servants, Hulda retreated to the guest drawing room. She pulled a crochet project out of her bag but found herself unable to focus on it.

Why hadn’t she foreseen this happening? Or anything else, oh,usefulto the situation?

One of the reasons she’d been employed at BIKER was due to her magic, diluted as it was. And it did come in handy from time to time. Indeed, it was that same diluted power that had first alerted her to Silas Hogwood’s crimes. Still, it was impossible to rely on her gift. What was the point of being an augurist if the majority of future glimpses she saw were pointless? Wouldn’t it be just dandy if she could foresee the culprit now and save them all some trouble?

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