"Father!" Gabriel protested. He looked horrified; clearly this was not something Benedict had discussed with him in advance.
"We can train our own servants," Charlotte snapped, but the Consul shook his head at her.
"Benedict Lightwood is offering you a generous gift. Accept it. "
Charlotte was crimson in the face. After a long moment she bent her head, acknowledging the Consuls words. Tessa felt dizzy. She was going to be trained? Trained to fight, to throw knives and swing a sword? Of course, one of her favorite heroines had always been Capitola in The Hidden Hand, who could fight as well as a man-and dressed like one. But that didnt mean she wanted to be her.
"Very well," said the Consul. "This session of the Council is ended, to be reconvened here, in the same location, in a fortnight. You are all dismissed. "
Of course, everyone did not depart immediately. There was a sudden clamor of voices as people began to rise from their seats and chatter eagerly with their neighbors. Charlotte sat still ; Henry beside her, looked as if he wanted desperately to say something comforting but could think of nothing. His hand hovered uncertainly over his wifes shoulder. Will was glaring across the room at Gabriel Lightwood, who looked coldly in their direction.
Slowly Charlotte rose to her feet. Henry had his hand on her back now, murmuring. Jessamine was already standing, twirling her new white lace parasol. Henry had replaced the old one that had been destroyed in battle with Mortmains automatons. Her hair was done up in tight bunches over her ears like grapes. Tessa got quickly to her feet, and the group of them headed up the center aisle of the Counci
l room. Tessa caught whispers on each side of her, bits of the same words, over and over: "Charlotte,"
"Benedict," "never find the Magister," "two weeks,"
"challenge," "Consul," "Mortmain," "Enclave," "humiliating. "
Charlotte walked with her back straight, her cheeks red, and her eyes gazing straight ahead as if she couldnt hear the gossip. Will seemed about to lunge off toward the whisperers to administer rough justice, but Jem had a firm grip on the back of his parabatais coat. Being Jem, Tessa reflected, must be a great deal like being the owner of a thoroughbred dog that liked to bite your guests. You had to have a hand on his col ar constantly. Jessamine merely looked bored again. She wasnt terribly interested in what the Enclave thought of her, or any of them.
By the time they had reached the doors of the Council chamber, they were nearly running. Charlotte paused a moment to let the rest of their group catch up. Most of the crowd was streaming off to the left, where Tessa, Jem, and Will had come from, but Charlotte turned right, marched several paces down the hall, spun around a corner, and abruptly stopped.
"Charlotte?" Henry, catching up to her, sounded worried. "Darling-"
Without warning Charlotte drew her foot back and kicked the wall, as hard as she could. As the wal was stone, this did little damage, though Charlotte let out a low shriek.
"Oh, my," said Jessamine, twirling her parasol.
"If I might make a suggestion," said Will. "About twenty paces behind us, in the Council room, is Benedict. If youd like to go back in there and try kicking him, I recommend aiming upward and a bit to the left-"
"Charlotte. " The deep, gravel y voice was instantly recognizable. Charlotte spun around, her brown eyes widening.
It was the Consul. The runes picked out in silver thread on the hem and sleeves of his cloak glittered as he moved toward the little group from the Institute, his gaze on Charlotte. One hand against the wall, she didnt move.
"Charlotte," Consul Wayland said again, "you know what your father always said about losing your temper. "
"He did say that. He also said that he should have had a son," Charlotte replied bitterly. "If he had-if I were a man-would you have treated me as you just did?"
Henry put his hand on his wifes shoulder, murmuring something, but she shook it off. Her large, hurt brown eyes were on the Consul.
"And how did I just treat you?" he asked.
"As if I were a child, a little girl who needed scolding. "
"Charlotte, I am the one who named you as head of the Institute and the Enclave. " The Consul sounded exasperated. "I did it not just because I was fond of Granvil e Fairchild and knew he wanted his daughter to succeed him, but because I thought you would accomplish the job well. "
"You named Henry, too," she said. "And you even told us when you did it that it was because the Enclave would accept a married couple as their leader, but not a woman alone. "
"Well, congratulations, Charlotte. I do not think any members of the London Enclave are under the impression that they are in any way being led by Henry. "
"Its true," Henry said, looking at his shoes. "They all know Im rather useless. Its my fault all this happened, Consul-"
"It isnt," said Consul Wayland. "It is a combination of a generalized complacency on the part of the Clave, bad luck and bad timing, and some poor decisions on your part, Charlotte. Yes, I am holding you accountable for them-"
"So you agree with Benedict!" Charlotte cried.
"Benedict Lightwood is a blackguard and a hypocrite," said the Consul wearily. "Everyone knows that. But he is political y powerful, and it is better to placate him with this show than it would be to antagonize him further by ignoring him. "
"A show? Is that what you call this?" Charlotte demanded bitterly. "You have set me an impossible task. "
"I have set you the task of locating the Magister," said Consul Wayland.
"The man who broke into the Institute, kil ed your servants, took your Pyxis, and plans to build an army of clockwork monsters to destroy us all -in short, a man who must be stopped. As head of the Enclave, Charlotte, stopping him is your task. If you consider it impossible, then perhaps you should ask yourself why you want the job so badly in the first place. "
Chapter 2: Reparations
Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
A h, more than share it! give me all thy grief.
-Alexander Pope, "Eloisa to Abelard"
The witchlight that il uminated the Great Library seemed to be flickering low, like a candle guttering down in its holder, though Tessa knew that was just her imagination. Witchlight, unlike fire or gas, never seemed to fade or burn away.
Her eyes, on the other hand, were beginning to tire, and from the looks of her companions, she wasnt the only one. They were all gathered around one of the long tables, Charlotte at its head, Henry at Tessas right. Will and Jem sat farther down, beside each other; only Jessamine had retreated to the very far end of the table, separated from the others. The surface of the table was liberal y covered with papers of all sorts-old newspaper articles, books, sheets of parchment covered with fine spidery writing. There were genealogies of various Mortmain families, histories of automatons, endless books of spel s of summoning and binding, and every bit of research on the Pandemonium Club that the Silent Brothers had managed to scrape out of their archives.
Tessa had been tasked with the job of reading through the newspaper articles, looking for stories about Mortmain and his shipping company, and her eyes were beginning to blur, the words dancing on the pages. She was relieved when Jessamine at last broke the silence, pushing away the book she had been reading-On the Engines of Sorcery-and said, "Charlotte, I think were wasting our time. "