Griffin
“Is everything all right?” I asked, once Jack and I were alone. I wished he’d chosen some other venue for this talk. We’d extinguished all the other lights, so the mirrors only occasionally sent back flashes of illumination from the oil lamp in his hand. Shadows seemed to lurk in the corners, and the pit in the middle of the tent was nothing but a dark, foreboding shape.
I couldn’t identify the designs on the broken fragments, nor had the slightest idea what they meant. And yet...they haunted me. As if I’d seen them before, in some distant dream I no longer remembered.
Whyborne’s explanation, that I’d seen the designs of the Eltdown Shards in some newspaper article as a boy, had seemed sufficient up until now. But standing here in this wild place, with the stone fragments before me, it rang hollow. The feeling of recognition was too deeply seated to have come from a few inches of print in a newspaper column.
But was it real? There was no reason I, of all people, should have such a presentiment. My Ival was magic; it was in his blood and bones. Whereas I was entirely ordinary. Common, as Theo Endicott had said, hoping to seduce Ival away from me.
I wasn’t mad. The dreams, the voice I’d heard the other night, the stele...it didn’t mean anything. The doctors hadn’t been right. I wasn’t going mad.
“Everything is fine.” Jack flashed me a grin, but it faded quickly. “I only had a question for you. Have you ever been on one of Dr. Whyborne’s expeditions before?”
“Whyborne doesn’t have expeditions,” I corrected. “This is entirely Dr. Putnam’s affair. If it were up to him, he’d never leave Widdershins at all. Why?”
“I see.” Jack looked away, and his fur-edged hood hid his expression from me. “The papers gave Dr. Putnam credit for her Egyptian discoveries, but I assume Dr. Whyborne’s hand was behind them?”
“Dear lord, don’t let Christine hear you say such a thing!” I stared at him in shock. “I understand it may seem strange for a woman to make such discoveries on her own, but how can you think such a thing having travelled with her?”
Jack turned to me, and the light revealed an oddly uncertain look on his face. “His studies into Nephren-ka didn’t lead her to the tomb?”
“Of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?” Surely Jack didn’t have some hidden interest in archaeological proceedings, or else he would have spoken of this earlier.
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose, watching them at work...Dr. Whyborne seems rather competent.”
I snorted. “Of course he is. Do you really believe Christine would let him accompany us otherwise?”
“I...I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Forgive me—this line of questioning must seem very strange to you.”
“You’re right, it does.” Did this have something to do with the argument we’d overheard between Jack and Turner? But surely Turner didn’t think Christine had deceived Jack in some way, when she obviously knew her business well. Could the man harbor a deep prejudice toward Iskander for his brown skin and Egyptian features? But that wouldn’t count as deception either. Nor could I imagine how Turner would have come to the conclusion Whyborne was secretly in charge of the expedition, or why he’d try to convince Jack of it.
“Is something wrong?” I asked finally. “Have you and Whyborne quarreled? Or you and Christine?”
“No!” He shook his head empathically. “Not at all. Dr. Whyborne saved my life on the way here. Why would I quarrel with him?”
Did it bother Jack, to feel himself in debt to Whyborne? Did he still think Ival something of a fop, soft and useless compared to the rugged men he normally interacted with? “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Rather than answer, Jack said, “You called him something different that day, didn’t you? Ordinarily you use his surname, but I thought I heard you shout another name when you ran to save us.” His lip twisted ruefully. “Although perhaps I misheard. I was rather occupied with not plummeting to my death at the time.”
The chill seemed to seep through my layers of clothes to gather around my heart. I thought we’d been careful, but perhaps we’d done something since arriving to give ourselves away. Was that why Jack suddenly decided to ask questions about Whyborne’s place in the expedition? Did he imagine Whyborne was here only as my lover?
Had I lost Jack already, the same way I’d lost Pa?
I willed my face to remain neutral. “Not at all. Ival is short for Percival. His intimate friends use it for him.”
In truth, of course, the name was mine alone to say. He hated Percy, and Whyborne had seemed too formal when I laid in bed at night, imagining it was his hand and not mine on my cock. Thankfully, it pleased him when I gasped it out involuntarily our first night together, or else I should have felt a fool.
“Oh.” Jack nodded. “That makes sense.”
Did it? What was going on with him? “Jack, if you have any doubts about Dr. Putnam, or Dr. Whyborne, anyone in our party, please allow me to lay your mind to rest. And if you have doubts of me, speak them aloud.”
“No. I don’t have any doubts about you,” Jack said firmly. He put a hand to my shoulder. “I’m sorry I led you to think otherwise. Forgive my meandering thoughts—these endless nights play havoc with a man’s mind.”
“Of course,” I said, relieved. Whatever troubled him, at least he didn’t seem to suspect the truth of my relationship with Whyborne. “Think no more of it.”