The Twelfth Enchantment

revenant, there is no hope, only terror.”

“And Ludd? Is he one of them?”

Mary shook her head. “No, he is something different. Long ago there was a king named Lud—with one d. He lived during the Roman period. Very little is known about him, but Geoffrey of Monmouth writes that he built a series of fortifications upon the Thames, one of which, his favorite, was Caer Lud, or ‘Lud’s Fort.’ You know, of course, what that fort became over time.”

Lucy swallowed. “London.”

“Yes. In fact, Ludgate is named for him. But that king was more than a man, he was something else, the manifestation of a Celtic deity worshipped as Lug or Lud.”

“You mean to say that the man I met, whom I spoke to, is a god?”

“He is a creature worshipped as one, which is a different thing. But he is the embodiment of the spirit of this land, and he has been summoned many times during periods of danger and crisis to lead his people to victory.”

Lucy studied her friend’s face. “It was you, wasn’t it? You summoned Ludd.”

“I did,” said Mary. “I used dark and dangerous magic, the kind I have asked you to avoid. The summoning of spirits is a fool’s game, and it could destroy you, but I had a purpose beyond myself to serve. The revenants have long walked among men. They have used their power sometimes for good and sometimes for ill, and sometimes the judgment of such things depended upon your politics or which claimant to the throne you favored. Their influence has always been over what must be viewed in the great scheme of things, as petty politics—a powerful faction in a system that must be called an oligarchy.”

“How many of these beings are there?”

“Not many,” Mary said. “Perhaps a dozen in positions of power. There are a few more who have separated themselves from this group, who exist as they choose.”

“And Lady Harriett leads these beings?”

“Lady Harriett may seem like an old woman, but she is the youngest of them, and so the most vigorous. It is why she is their leader. The others have lived so long, they are disconnected from their own lives, from the world around them. They depend upon Lady Harriett to guide and protect them. Do not underestimate her. We have risked much by setting ourselves against her.”

Lucy did not doubt it. “And our own nation sides with them,” she said, thinking of her conversation with the prime minister.

“It does, because the men who make these decisions do not understand the bargain they make,” said Mary. “They believe an era of machines will bring prosperity and security, but they don’t understand what so cold a world would look like. They don’t understand that the revenants want to usher in this era of machines because it will, necessarily, put all but an end to the age of magic. In standing against Ludd, these men do not do evil knowingly, but they do evil just the same. Once the ways of magic are stifled, the revenants will have nothing to fear. There can be no threat of alchemy to unmake them, and they will be safe in their eternal flesh. They care only for their security. Their dark minds will not be disquieted while machine replaces man, while craftsmen are turned into beasts of burden, while children starve and beg. They see not how the world they usher in will be a kind of hell. Their lungs will be choked by the soot and ash of production; their minds themselves will be lost to indolence and laziness. I was willing to risk myself, my life, to try to stop this nightmare they would bring upon mankind, and so yes, I summoned Ludd.”

“But why does all of this involve me?”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t know, and I am sorry for it. I know only that all roads on this journey begin and end with Lucy Derrick. You are everything in this. You do not want to be, and I cannot blame you, but you are. And if you wish for your niece to return in safety, you must defeat Lady Harriett.”

“By finding the Mutus Liber.”

“Yes. You have already done a great deal by stealing pages out from under her nose.”

Lucy thought about the pages. “She said her house was warded, and magic would not work there, and yet it did work. Was that because of the Mutus Liber?”

“In part, yes. The pages called to you, did they not?”

Lucy nodded.

“You’ve already discovered that they come in groups, and each of those groups conveys an important component of the whole of the book’s teachings. But each page is separately enchanted, drawn to the others, and drawn to the person who possesses them. Twelve pages and twelve enchantments. Simply to hold them in your hand and to know what they are will make you both powerful and dangerous. Possessing only some of them is less desirable than possessing the whole, but you will still benefit from these enchantments. You will have more power and more luck.”

“Would not Lady Harriett know that?” asked Lucy. “Would she not make every effort to protect herself accordingly?”

“As old as she is,” said Mary, “she still does not understand magic. Not really. Lucy, when you were a child, did you know someone who was a very fast runner?”

“Of course,” she said. “We had a friend, Eliza, who would always win when we raced.”

“Always? Did she never lose?”

“Well, sometimes, of course. What has this to do with the wards?”

“Eliza may have been fastest,” said Mary, “and she may have been reliably so, but that did not mean she would always win. You might depend on her to win against one of your friends, or even a stranger, and most of the time she would. But sometimes someone could be faster, or perhaps her legs would be tired or she would be hungry.”

“Wards get tired?”

“They grow strained and frayed, like old rope, or stronger and weaker, like winds. Her wards will work most of the time, but they did not work this time, because you are powerful and she is old. She is strong, Lucy. Very strong. She is stronger than you can imagine, but not as strong as she thinks, and that is our only advantage.”

“The journey continues,” said Lucy as she looked out the window. Suddenly, she felt a sharp terror. “Where are we? I do not recognize this road. Is this the way to London?”

“No,” said Mary. “We are returning to Nottinghamshire.”

Lucy gripped the side of her seat in panic. “No! Did you not hear me? I must return to London. If I am not back by sunset, I will be discovered missing. They will know how long I have been gone. Why have you tricked me?”

“Because I knew you would not listen,” said Mary. “I knew you would still go because you care too much for what the world thinks of you.”

“You speak more like Byron than you would credit.”

“You will not say that to me,” she snapped. Her anger was sudden and terrible. She was like a jungle cat, crouched as it readied itself to pounce. Her face flushed dark and her eyes widened and her pupils narrowed. Teeth showed through parted lips. “I am nothing like him, and you will never say such a thing to me, nor even speak his name to me if you can avoid it. I will—” She then began to weep, and she pulled Lucy to her breast. “Forgive me. Your comment was innocent, and my anger unjust.”

Lucy pulled away. “You may not wish to be likened to him, but you are as careless with my name and reputation as he is. Who are you to decide if they are worth preserving? My reputation is mine, Mary. I do not wish to let it go so lightly. I have no means, I have no name, I have no station. I cannot live as a whore in the eyes of the world. I am not so foolish that I don’t understand that the world’s thinking it so shall make it truth in the end. I may try to resist it, but I must have bread, and in the end, I will become what they say.”

“There is no fate that can be thrust upon you but what you permit,” said Mary, beaming like a proud parent.

“I thank you for your confidence, but I must go to London. Turn us around while there is still time.”

“You cannot go to London,” said Mary. “Things are going to happen, and they will be beyond even your control. London will soon become a city of chaos.”

“My friends are in London,” Lucy said.

“Many people are in London, but there is no helping that,” Mary answered. “It is time for the change to begin. It has to happen in some way, and revolution can never be quiet or peaceful or easy. I wish that it could be, but it