The Road to Farringale: 6

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'Nobody thought to mention this before?' I asked, unable to suppress a trace of bitterness.

'It was not considered wise to make this ability widely known.'

Waymasters are rare. That is an understatement. One who knows the Ways can make use of all the ancient portals that are spread all over Britain — and indeed, the world. Around here they take the form of henges, for the most part. The big, shiny, popular ones like Stonehenge are never used anymore; too many tourists in the way. But the country is littered with the more humble kind, henges of rock and wood and earth. If you can walk the Ways, you can step from one to another in the blink of an eye. It is an ability that used to be common, but like so much else of magick it has been fading away for generations. Nobody knows why.

I understand that some would find all kinds of interesting, nefarious ways to exploit such an ability as Jay's. But I wouldn't. Did they not trust me?

'Jay was assigned to you because you were the best person to train him,' said Milady. 'I wanted you to treat him as an ordinary recruit. I wanted him to learn how we manage day by day, with or without a Waymaster to hand, for he will not always have the ability freely at his disposal. It was not intended that you should be kept in the dark about it forever.'

I did not feel much mollified, but I kept my dissatisfaction to myself. It is unprofessional to put one's irritations on display. 'Very well.'

'What would you like us to do?' asked Jay.

'Baron Alban is well-travelled, and frequently visits the more populous and central Enclaves. He is not concerned about the well-being of any of those. There are a few far-flung or mildly reclusive settlements, however, whose fate is more in question. I need you to discover whether they are showing any signs of decay, like South Moors, or any unusual behaviour.'

A mission that proposed to take me all over the country in a trice, and gave me the opportunity to explore several places I had never before visited, could only be welcome to me. 'Yes ma'am!' I said with enthusiasm.

'Thrice the usual budget, Ves,' added Milady, 'and take whatever you need from Stores. You have one week.'

Resources: Great. Time: Less so. I swallowed a mixture of mild panic and exhilaration and made my usual obeisance. 'We'd better get started at once, then.'

'That would be lovely.'

It is possible that when Milady said take what you need from Stores, she did not mean rob the place of everything that might conceivably come in handy, under any circumstances whatsoever. But if that wasn't what she meant she ought to have particularised, for Jay and I had a daunting job to do and no time at all to do it.

'See, when Milady says "a week",' I said to Jay as I palmed a handy sustenance charm, 'she really means about three days.' I found an unlocking charm — enchanted, unimaginatively, upon a huge bronze key — and pocketed that, too. The Stores at Home are wonderful: half a dozen rooms of varying size, the walls all lined with shelves and cabinets laden with all manner of artefacts, trinkets and Curiosities — and even a few genuine Treasures. Some of them are aged and delicate; you need a special permit to take any of those out. I didn't touch them. I was more than contented with enchantments more recently Wrought, for they offered everything we could need, and one did not have to live in fear of breaking or losing one of them along the way.

'Three days,' murmured Jay. 'Let's see that list again?'

I handed over the slip of paper I'd received from Nell: a computer print-out of all known Troll Enclaves still extant in Britain. The list consisted of twenty-six names, more than half of which she had subsequently crossed out in red pen. Baron Alban's territories, I presumed; we did not need to investigate those. South Moors and Farringale were also crossed off, which left us with nine places to visit.

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