Free Any Other Name by Emma Newman Page A

of the wall.
    Lavandula had come straight from his niece’s wedding and had been full of details about it for the first cup of tea. Uninterested, Max picked up on the gargoyle’s occasional bouts of laughter on the other side of the house. He hadn’t realised Wuthering Heights was a comedy. Its foul mood at being unable to help the tainted seemed to have lifted once it realised there was nothing to be done for them without the Chapter to take them in and care for them. If the Chapter was still intact they would have been given a new life, becoming researchers and staff to support the Arbiters. Now they were doomed to be slaves of the Fae, forever.
    “I should imagine that Londinium is quite different without the Rosas,” Ekstrand said, bringing Max’s attention fully back to the conversation.
    “Yes, all scrabbling to decide who’ll be the next Duke, no doubt,” Mr Lavandula said. He was dressed in an oyster-coloured satin jacket and breeches and a lavender-blue waistcoat embroidered with silver and pearls. “Though, between you and me, dear Ekkie, I don’t think things will change too radically. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Rosas remain in control of the domain one way or another.”
    “But the Rosas must have suffered once their actions were discovered?”
    “Oh, yes, the Agency rounded them up quite dramatically.”
    Agency? Petra mouthed to Max. He shrugged. For a moment he thought of the Judd Street talent agency that had snared those blondes. But that was connected to the Rosas, a front for their business interests and a means to lure in the right kind of innocents, not an organisation that would round them up.
    “The ones they could find,” Lavandula said. “That’s the thing about the Rose, pull it up in one corner of the garden and you’ll find it springing up somewhere else. The family is just the same. They have deep roots beneath the surface all over Londinium, nay, all of Albion. Apart from Aquae Sulis, of course.” He sniffed, lifting a lace-edged handkerchief to his face to frame his smile. “My sister and I are certain of that.”
    “Won’t the Agency have a means to find them? Your people have Charms for that very purpose.”
    “The Rosas have wealth; they can afford the very best means of hiding. Mark my words, my sorcerous friend, we have not seen the last of them.”
    “I suppose you aren’t concerned about what happens in Londinium.” Ekstrand poured more tea.
    “Oh, I’m more interested than I used to be. My favourite niece has taken up residence there – the one who helped you to find me – so I’ve made it my business to find a little Londinium bird or two. In fact, just today I heard one of the minor Ranunculus family sons fell foul of an Arbiter in Hampstead. How embarrassing. Tell me, how is your broken Arbiter? Recovering well?”
    “Yes,” Ekstrand said with a nod, handing over a refilled cup. “It’s good to know the Sorcerer of Essex is keeping London safe.”
    “Mmm.” Lavandula sipped his tea. “It’s certainly good to know that the hapless Buttercups are as harmless as they ever were. And may I congratulate you on the delicious drama you effected upon my return; it quite distracted those at the ball from my… condition. Why, not a soul has commented upon the fact my cravat was missing, nor the state of my clothing and general struggle to be conscious, let alone erudite. They were all looking at you being so magnificent. It was so thoughtful of you, Ekkie dear.”
    Ekstrand made an attempt to smile graciously. “I’m glad you’re recovering so well.”
    “Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, seeing as we’re all caught up and can put that terrible business behind us, I need to get back to putting the Season in order again.” Lavandula finished his tea and set the cup and saucer down gently. He stood and held out his hand to Ekstrand. “I do appreciate the understanding we have. It puts the other cities to shame. Why no one else has such an