Page 39 of Better in Black
Zachary let out a howl of protest.
“Maybe he’s hungry?” Alastair suggested.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be held,” Thomas suggested back. All of Sona’s advice had completely vanished from his mind.
Alastair carefully put Zachary down. “Is that all right? We don’t have to restrain you. You can walk around on your own.”
Zachary did, in fact, stop crying almost instantly. He looked up at Alastair and Thomas consideringly. Then he turned and ran—well, toddled, but more quickly than Thomas would have expected—through the door into the sitting room.
Alastair gave Thomas a look of dismay.
“I suppose he did just get out of the carriage,” Thomas said. “I wouldn’t want to get straight back in either. Maybe you could get him to look at your toy soldiers.”
“Yes,” said Alastair. “I’ll do that.” He darted after Zachary. Thomas attempted to follow Alastair, but was waylaid by an irritable Mrs.Killigrew, who wanted to ask him if the baby would still be there at suppertime, and whether Mrs.Carstairs and her child were spending the night, and how it really would be a great deal easier if they would tell her these things ahead of time—
Thomas eventually extricated himself, and hurried into the sitting room, where an odd tableau presented itself on the coffee table.
At one end sat Alastair, one hand rubbing his forehead in frustration. On the table itself, tin soldiers in French blue and British red were arranged, some in ranks and some in chaotic piles. Books had been stacked in various places, Thomas assumed to representelevated positions. Zachary, his black hair sticking up wildly, was sitting on the table at the opposite end from Alastair. He had a British officer in one hand, which he was waving about excitedly. In the other hand was his lion.
“Let’s try this one more time,” Alastair said. “Here, we are in the opening hours. Wellington has been withstanding heavy skirmishing by Napoleon’s forces all afternoon.”
Zachary did not seem to be taking this in. He banged the tin soldier on the table and laughed, knocking over two of the soldier’s unlucky countrymen in the process. Thomas cleared his throat. “Alastair, isn’t this a little much for a baby?”
“He’s not just a baby,” Alastair said, carefully standing Zachary’s victims back upright. “He’s a Shadowhunter.”
“He can be both,” Thomas pointed out.
“Never too young to develop the martial mind, as my father used to say. Now, Zachary. Pay attention.”
Zachary looked over at Thomas and gave him a wave. “Ta!”
“Tom?” Thomas said. “Did you say ‘Tom,’ Zach? That’s very good!”
“Zachary,” Alastair said severely. “The Duke of Wellington has had the worst of it all day, but never fear.”
“Nern,” said Zachary, who did not look as if he feared.
“But soon,” said Alastair, “the tide of the battle will turn. Do you know why?”
Zachary very obviously did not. Experimentally he put the tin soldier’s head into his mouth.
“That’s right!” Alastair cried. “It’s the Prussians!” With a great flourish, he brought a tin soldier out from under the coffee table. “They wear blue, like the French, but you can tell them by the red and white crossed sash. Will fortune soon favor the good duke?”
“Sadly,” said Thomas, “the good duke has been seized from the battlefield by an enormous humanoid creature, and chewed thoroughly.”
Alastair appeared to notice this for the first time. “Take Wellington out of your mouth at once! What would Nelson say?” He looked over at Thomas expectantly.
“My love,” Thomas said. “You can’t play with a baby like that. He’s too young. He doesn’t understand about any of this war business. You have to be patient and just let him do as he likes.”
Alastair huffed. “And what will my mother say, if she returnshome to find he has failed to learn the principles of strategic warfare?”
“She will say nothing, because she does not expect him to learn the principles of strategic warfare.”
“Well, of course he won’t be able to grasp all the ins and outs yet,” Alastair said, “but the most basic principles, surely. My father started with me when I was just as young as Zachary.”
“Lion!” declared Zachary. He put the wooden lion down on the table and used it to knock over the nearest several soldiers.
“No,” Alastair said severely. “There were no lions at Waterloo.”
