Page 69 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“The moat was filled in just last year,” Lady Helen continued as they passed what Merritt assumedusedto be the moat. There was a large number of armed men staring at them, which made him walk alittle stiffly, but none stopped them; Lady Helen must have sent word ahead when she’d arranged all this. “There were issues with it, disease and other nonsense.” She swept the idea away with a flick of her wrist.

Dipping his head toward Hulda, Merritt whispered, “I wish I could dismiss disease with a swipe of my hand.”

She pinched his bicep. “Please behave yourself.”

He grinned at her, taking in the grand walls as they passed through them. Lady Helen pointed out the construction of barracks in the inner ward, but insisted they weren’t “important” and should be ignored, then launched into a long list of historical sieges upon the tower, occasionally corrected by her husband when she muddled the dates or, in one case, invented a siege that had never happened.

“There were no Spaniards,” Prince Friedrich insisted.

Lady Helen dismissed him just as she had the moat diseases. “I shall look it up when we return home. Really, Friedrich.” She scoffed, then dove into the imprisonment of Anne Boleyn.

“Perhaps,” Merritt said quietly to Hulda, “I should write a novel about Henry VIII.”

“Perhaps you should write something a little sunnier,” she suggested.

He glanced over his shoulder, checking on Owein and Cora, who followed close behind. It was unfortunate Cora didn’t have communion spells so the two could speak. But Cora caught his eye and smiled softly. “Is he saying something?”

Merritt looked at Owein.

Um,he started.The history is ... fascinating.

Merritt relayed it, and Cora gave a polite nod.

Inside the tower was surprisingly cold, but then again, it was composed mainly of stone, and it was early March in London. Lady Helen now detailed how the tower had morphed from a royal residence to a house of munitions. They approached an armory, also guarded, but they were allowed to peek in and act appropriately impressed. Merritt nodded to one of the guards, who made no effort in word or expressionto reply. Lady Helen launched into a one-sided discussion of the English Civil War as they took the steps up, but Merritt found himself studying the walls, imagining the lives of the people who’d lived there long ago, and how maybe itwouldbe interesting to write a story that took place in a castle.American Castlehad an interesting ring to it, as a title.

Hulda’s pace slowed, and between their tour guide’s breaths, she asked, “Lady Helen ... have those shoes always been in your possession?”

Lady Helen paused and pulled her skirt back, revealing modest women’s shoes, deep maroon in appearance, with a slight heel. “Indeed, I bought them just last year. Why do you ask? Would you like a pair?”

Hulda pinched the inside of Merritt’s arm, which was how he recalled her telling him about a cluster vision she’d had during her sessions with Griffiths. One of them had involved a shoe of that color.Interesting,he thought.

“Oh yes,” Hulda lied, “but forgive my intrusion. Please continue.”

Lady Helen beamed and held up her hands to stop the rest of the procession. “Now, this is the really fascinating part. Up ahead are the Crown Jewels and the wizardry artifacts. I’ve been instructed to have us all walk single file and keep our hands behind our backs. But it really is such a treat that we get to walk this hall!”

The group did as instructed; Merritt let Hulda, Owein, and Lady Cora walk in front of him. He took up the back, and not surprisingly, an armed guard—this one in red, called a “yeoman”—tailed them. They passed an impressive array of jewelry that must be worth afortune, then approached the coronation regalia, and the baron actually took over to explain how the different items were used in a royal coronation. The sovereign’s scepter was especially impressive, as was Saint Edward’s Crown, the frame of which was solid gold and adorned with semiprecious stones, “One for each doctrine of magic,” Baron von Gayl explained, “and then some.”

“Now, the wizardry artifacts.” Lady Helen faced forward, but Merritt could hear her smile.TheseMerritt paid close attention to,because before meeting the Druids, he hadn’t even known they existed. Hulda, too, seemed fascinated by the brief display, while Owein complained that he couldn’t see.

The first was a delicate tube, almost like a short, wide straw. It appeared to be made of glass, but Lady Helen reported it was neither glass nor crystal; no one knew what material composed it. Believed to be from the first generations of water elementists, the tube could be used by anyone to draw water from the surrounding air, so that it was always on hand. “You would never be thirsty,” she explained. “And the water would always be clean.”

The next was a little wooden bead, nondescript, about the size of a shilling. This was one of a number of beads—the rest lost to history—that the first conjurer had supposedly made to strip away the side effects of magic. Queen Victoria was believed to be personally in possession of a second, but that had never been confirmed.

The next was the largest piece of amethyst Merritt had ever laid eyes on, nearly the height of his forearm, with strange runes etched into its sides. This relic was connected to augury, and—again, supposedly—allowed an augurist to pick and choose what she saw. Hulda’s nose got very close to the glass on this one, enough to earn a stern coughing from the guard behind them.

“I don’t suppose we’re allowed to handle them?” she asked.

Lady Helen looked utterly crestfallen. “I’m afraid not. They’re quite potent, so I’ve been told. The spells we possess now are mere whispers of what the originators had at their disposal! I had to pull strings just for the tour.”

As they reached the last relic, Mr. Blightree took over as tour guide. “Lastly, this bottle is believed to have the power to hold souls. I’ve never been allowed to examine it myself, and there is reason for it. Any talisman with such power could be deadly in the wrong hands.”

Merritt swallowed, imagining what might have happened had Silas been able to trap his soul and Owein’s in that bottle instead of haulingtheir bodies to Marshfield. He would have made far quicker work of them.

He wondered if the Druids had anything like this, or if their stories had any truth to them. He doubted anyone would ever truly know the birth of magic, its hows and whys.

They came around a corner, where some historical armor—or pieces of it, anyway—were on display beneath magical lights. Lady Helen had to read a placard to detail any of it. They descended a narrow set of stone stairs, along which hung old portraits no longer wanted for display in the palace, namely paintings of long-forgotten dukes, duchesses, and the offhand cousin.

The air didn’t feel quite so cold when they stepped outside again. Merritt stretched his hands over his head, while Owein stretched his front paws before him. The sun was peeking out from between long clouds.

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