Charles had to concentrate on keeping his mouth shut as they drove through the city. Though he'd certainly learned enough of London, he had never seen anything like this. Building was happening everywhere, and more importantly, he even saw a few mutants working on a scaffolding around a church. One was using his hands to keep a forge hot…no one was shoveling coal. Another was walking down the side of the roof with too-perfect balance. And once they arrived at Shaw's apartment! There was much grandeur at Oxford, but Charles was usually limited to looking and not touching. Here, there were desks and papers and books he'd never seen, lying out as though he could just pick them up and start browsing. The walls were covered with a gold striped paper, and the rugs were a dark teal color.
"Welcome to my home, Charles," Shaw said as he put his bags down. "Of course, you should consider this your home as well while you're here." He gave an indulgent smile as he saw Charles completely riveted by a star map hanging on the wall. He let Charles give it a good look, then said: "we still have more to do today, so may I suggest that you go and have a wash up? You don't have to unpack your bags now, I'll have someone see to it." His beautiful daemon slid off of his shoulders onto an ottoman; she appeared completely at ease. Maaike was still nervous, but she had jumped down and was giving the rug a good sniff.
"Your room is that way," Shaw said with a smile. Go on and get washed up. I laid out some clothes that you can wear today; obviously we'll need to get you outfitted with a full kit. We'll leave again in half an hour." He gave Charles a friendly wave and turned to inspect some mail.
Still overwhelmed, Charles turned to find his room without saying thank you. Maaike followed him closely as he stepped though a side door and found a bedroom larger than he had ever slept in before. It was bigger than a junior Scholar's would be, and far more luxurious. Large windows with lace curtains let in so much light the white bed covers appeared to glow. He gently picked up the edge of the bed coverlet, then dropped it and checked his hands for grime. Thankfully, his hands were still clean from this morning.
The outfit on the bed was another surprise. Instead of the sturdy black clothes that were required at Oxford, there was an entire suit laid out for him. It was grey plaid with the slightest hint of blue in the fabric, and the silk tie was a bit longer, also in a fashionable blue. The shirt was as white and clean as the bedclothes, and the vest was silver with a sheen to it—silk again! Two boxes stood to the side, one on the bed and one on the floor. The box on the floor contained beautiful leather shoes, not a scuff or rip in them. The box on the bed—oh my—contained his first ever top hat, covered in black silk and with a grosgrain ribbon around the base. After checking his hands again, Charles gently put it on his head. It fit perfectly. He was sure the other things would fit just as well, and looking around quickly for the bathroom, dove in to prepare a bath faster than he ever had with Scholar Hecart staring him down.
After 20 minutes he reappeared, smelling of the clove soap and hair oil he'd used. He dressed as slowly as possible, determined not to snag a thread or put a hole in a stocking. For the first time in his life, he cared about what he was wearing. He held out his arm to Maaike and she climbed up. Charles' heart started to pick up speed. "Maaike, no matter what, no claws, all right?" She stroked a paw, no claws extended, across his cheek in response. At the last moment, he slid the alethiometer into his vest pocket. Better to keep it close, as the President had said. Charles knew enough to not put the top hat on while they were in the house, but carried it gently in his (very clean!) hands out to the parlor, where Shaw was waiting. He was still looking through the mail, but after a moment he looked up and saw Charles, and his face lit up.
"There we are, now!" Shaw said delightedly. "Uniforms can be a necessary thing, but this makes you look wonderfully grown up. I'm sure some people won't believe you're my assistant!" He laughed, and Charles smiled a smile that he hoped was the perfect combination of grateful and proud. Maaike brushed her cheek against his.
"Well?" said Shaw. Charles blinked and saw that a footman had appeared, holding out a dark, sumptuous coat to Shaw who shrugged it on. Then the man was holding out a similar coat to Charles, and he turned and extended his arms, and the weight of the coat settled on to his shoulders.
"I think we're as ready as we'll ever be," Shaw said. They left the apartment and went down to the street, where Sands and the carriage were still waiting. Sands smiled and gave Charles a respectful nod this time, and then they jumped into the cab, with Shaw saying "We're off to the Royal Arctic Institute, Sands."
The Institute took up several city blocks, but Shaw knew exactly where to go. Charles had to take quick steps in order to keep up with Shaw and not lose him in a sea of other people. They walked what seemed to be a mile down corridors, Shaw nodding graciously here and there, while Charles tried not to stare anytime a woman crossed his path. He shoved aside his astonishment at female Scholars and researchers, and tried to concentrate on looking as suave as Shaw did.
They ate a lunch of buttered asparagus and sweetbreads in a massive hall with large skylights filtering the sunlight down onto their plates. After a few bites, Charles looked up and asked "May I ask you a question, my Lord?"
Shaw chuckled. "No need for that, Charles, unless we're in a group of people. So, what is your question?"
"I was wondering, sir, when you expect that we will begin the journey?"
"Oh, not for a few weeks at least. Are you excited to get underway?"
"Very much so."
"Well, it would be a shame if we didn't introduce you around at first. Remember how I was talking about lectures, and the opera? We should do a few of those at first, and a visit to the theatre would also do you some good as well. During the day you'll work on organizing some things for me at the home. Now, take a look at that gentleman over there in the red tie: his name is Doctor Azazel. He's doing some amazing work on travel, though he hasn't yet let slip what's powering it. And the lady to our right is…distinctive, isn't she? Her name is Marie D'Ancanto, from the Colonial South. I want you to recognize them now because I'll be inviting them to a soiree in a few weeks. I think we should have a good party before we set off to the Arctic lands, don't you?"
Charles barely managed to hold down a laugh. "Of…course sir, I think that would be splendid."
"Then it's settled. Finish your lunch while I go speak to Doctor Azazel. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
Charles had perfected the art of pretending to be absorbed in one thing while actually doing something else. While cutting asparagus, he watched Shaw and Doctor Azazel converse. There was nothing odd about the other man, except for an exceptionally florid complexion. Many Oxford Scholars looked exactly the same. He thought for a moment, and decided to gently concentrate on this man. He took a sip from his water glass (fingers below the midline), and imagined that he was sitting next to him, and could hear what he said, and could tell if he was joking or not. It felt odd, to follow that instinct, but he did it anyway.
He was concentrating, feeling like he was getting closer, he almost understood what they were saying, and was that a smell of sulfur? Perhaps he used it in experiments…and then, to his horror, he heard a whirring and clicking sound coming from very close by.
"The alethiometer!" Maaike hissed in his ear.
He couldn't help but grab at it through his vest, and he could feel it vibrating…what in the constellations was going on? It somehow activated on its own? The President didn't tell him that! He didn't dare take it out, he had to let his vest go, but Maaike jumped into his lap and curled up, pressing her back against his vest pocket. By that point, he had lost his concentration, and when he looked up Shaw was halfway back to their table. He was so startled that he choked on his water and a little bit ran down his chin. To make sure that the droplets didn't fall on his tie, he had to lean forward, and so he looked very much like a child again, coughing and dripping water on the table. He was mortified enough, but seeing Shaw looking mildly disgusted caused Charles' face to turn an unattractive red.
"Sorry…sir" he said, trying to stifle another cough.
"What happened, Charles?" Shaw asked. His voice was amused, but his eyes were not.
"I beg your pardon, sir. It's just that…it was…I mean, I'm embarrassed, but I saw that lady in the beautiful dress…"
Shaw stared for a moment and then let out a huge laugh. "Did you? Well, I can't blame you for that I suppose. Quietly, show me which one. Should we invite her to the party as well? If you've got a little crush, I'm happy to help you out…" he went on, still laughing, as Charles thanked the heavens that he had thought of just the right excuse. He subtly gestured to a lady wearing a lower cut dress, and Shaw laughed harder, thinking he understood Charles very well now.
The afternoon was another tornado of new experiences, as Shaw took him to the High Street shops to get his outfit for travel. Maaike became frustrated with the process right away, but the store had wonderful perches and cushions tucked in corners so that daemons could remain close without feeling intimidated. Soon porters were taking large boxes out to the carriage, and it became loaded down with furs, oilskins, waterproof silk, fur lined gloves, and boots. Then, they went to another shop and Charles was fitted again, this time for two more daytime suits, then evening clothes, black tie and white tie, evening gloves, more silk vests in all colors. He was becoming overwhelmed at the amount and variety of the things Shaw was purchasing, and was simply grateful that Shaw didn't seem to expect him to make choices between one thing and another.
Finally Charles sank gratefully back into the carriage. Shaw sat across from him, not seeming fatigued in the least. As Charles looked out the window, he asked Shaw a question:
"Doctor Azazel, that we met today…is he a mutant?"
The emerald snake whipped her head around to look at him, and Maaike bristled and let out a small whine. Shaw went very still for a moment, then picked up his cane so fast that Charles ducked, thinking Shaw would strike him, but he only rapped hard on the ceiling of the carriage. The carriage swerved to the left and stopped dead, the only sounds being the horses jangling their harness in irritation.
"Why do you ask that, Charles?" Shaw's voice was silky and dangerous. The snake uncoiled herself and began to slide herself off of Shaw's seat.
Charles' voice came out much higher than normal. "Well, sir…I just wondered…"
The snake was rising up to Charles' seat now, looking at Maaike, who was desperately trying to stand her ground.
"Tell me why you wondered, Charles." The silky voice again.
He had to answer. He gripped Maaike against him and petted her with one finger, where Shaw couldn't see. "To be honest, sir, I saw some mutants working as we drove home today, and it got me thinking. That's all, sir.
"Thinking what?"
The snake was on the velvet seat, her scales making a whisper on the velvet as she moved closer to Maaike. Charles finally broke. "Don't hurt us, my Lord, please don't hurt us. I'm sorry for asking. I didn't realize it was wrong. I won't ever ask again, please don't hurt us!"
Shaw took a breath and extended his arm, and the snake calmly slid up and began to coil herself around him. Both Maaike and Charles were shuddering with fear, and Shaw smiled again. "Of course you won't be hurt, Charles," he said calmly, stroking his daemon gently. "I'm just very interested about where you got this idea, that scientists could be mutants."
"The mutants I saw today—"
"Were laborers, were they not?"
Charles nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, they were."
Shaw looked satisfied. "Of course," he said, and rapped on the carriage roof again. "And I'm sure you knew of some mutants at Oxford, as well? Were any of them professors?" The carriage lurched to the right and began to move again.
"Not…not to my knowledge, sir."
"Of course. Mutants help our society, Charles, but they cannot lead our society. Who knows what they would do with their powers? Can we allow someone who can make fire, or move heavy objects, to have the only say in what they do? What is to stop them from moving a vault out of a bank, to steal the money? We can't have that, now, can we, Charles?"
"I…I suppose not, sir."
"So, you can see that the answer to your question must be 'no'. To become a scientist, you must be born with a strong intellect, like you, Charles. Then you must spend years training and studying. That's where I come in. You won't be a mere Scholar, Charles; you're going to be a famous scientist. It would be a shame if you were just a mutant, meant to labor all your life."
"Yes sir," Charles whispered, and Maaike hid her face under his coat.