“He does excellent work,” Will said. “Twenty-seven out of thirty days. The others, he gets a bit wild with his colors and cuts.”
“We needn’t depend on Sykes,” Lucie stage-whispered, patting Jesse’s arm. “We’ll get in touch with Anna. She’ll sort you out.”
“If I am going to be presented to the Enclave…” Jesse cleared his throat. “I’d like to make use of the training room. I know very little of fighting, and I could be much stronger than I am. I need not master every skill; I know I am old to begin learning. But—”
“I’ll train with you,” James said. The black pit had receded; he was back at the table with his family again. Relief and gratitude made him sympathetic. He wanted to help Jesse. And if part of it was wanting someone to train with who was not Matthew, he did not admit it to himself at the moment.
Jesse looked pleased. Will was gazing at them both with an expression that seemed to portend a Welsh song on the horizon. Thankfully for everyone present, Bridget appeared suddenly, scowling as she slammed the door behind her. She approached Will and murmured something in his ear.
Will’s eyes lit up. “My goodness. We have a call.”
Tessa looked puzzled. “A call?”
“A call!” confirmed Will. “On the telephone. Bring it in, Bridget.”
James had forgotten about this. A few months before, Will had had one of the new mundane “telephones” installed in the Institute, although James knew that Magnus had done quite a lot of fiddling with magic in order to get it to work. But now it could be used for Institutes to call between one another. James was fairly sure that mundane telephones were usually connected to something by a wire, which this one was not, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up.
Bridget came in holding a heavy wooden machine. She held it at arm’s length, as though it might explode, while from somewhere within a bell rang continuously, like an alarm clock.
“It just keeps clanging on,” Bridget complained, setting it down on the table with a thump. “I can’t get it to stop.”
“It’s supposed to do that,” Will said. “Just leave it there, thanks.”
He lifted a sort of black cone attached to the wooden box. Immediately a voice, sounding as though it were yelling from the far end of a tunnel, bellowed, “Identify yourself!”
Will held the cone away from his head, looking pained.
James and Lucie exchanged a look. The voice was immediately identifiable: Albert Pangborn, the head of the Cornwall Institute. Lucie gleefully mimed her hands sticking together, to Jesse’s puzzlement and a disapproving look from Tessa.
“This is Will Herondale.” Will spoke into the mouthpiece slowly and clearly. “And you telephoned me.”
Albert shouted back, “This is Albert Pangborn!”
“Yes, Albert,” said Will in the same careful tone, “from the Cornwall Institute. There is no need to shout.”
“I wanted! To tell you!” Albert shouted. “We found that lady! Who went missing!”
“Which lady was that, Albert?” said Will. James was fascinated. It was a rare circumstance to witness a conversation in which his father was the calm, quiet participant.
“The ONE WHO WENT MISSING!” Albert yowled. “From the Adamant Citadel!”
Jesse froze as if his blood had turned to ice. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Lucie blanch. Will was suddenly all attention, hunched over the receiver of the telephone. “Albert,” he said. “Say that again. You found which missing woman?”
“Titania Greenthorpe!” shouted Albert.
“Do you mean Tatiana Blackthorn, Albert?”
“Whatever her name is!” Albert said. “She can’t answer to it herself, you see!”
“What?” said Will. “What do you mean?”
“We found her out on the moors!” Albert said. “One of us, I mean, not myself! It was young Polkinghorn found her!”
“On the moors?” said Will.
“On Bodmin Moor!” Albert said. “During patrol! She was out like a light when we found her! Still hasn’t woken up! Injured pretty badly, I daresay!”
It must be very strange, James thought, a little dazed, to patrol empty moors, rather than city streets full of mundanes. Albert was still shouting: “We thought she was dead at first, truth be told! She’d been slashed up pretty badly! Didn’t even want to put iratzes on her! Not sure she could take it!”