Read The Eighth Court Online

Authors: Mike Shevdon

Tags: #urban fantasy, #feyre, #Blackbird, #magic, #faery, #London, #fey

The Eighth Court (15 page)

BOOK: The Eighth Court
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The room was large and dark, but airless. The big stone fireplace holding only embers and the occasional lick of flame, warmed the back of the tall man at the table. He had pushed back the platters and cleared a space so that he could read the curled sheets laid out before him, bringing closer the pewter candelabra so that the light from the candles would fall upon the pages. Another man in a blue surcoat came in and began removing the dishes, moving almost silently so as not to disturb the reader. The man at the table neither acknowledged his presence nor helped him clear.

From my position at the other end of the table I could see the three lions embroidered in gold upon his breast. This was the King, although which King I wasn’t sure. I found myself wishing I’d paid more attention in history lessons at school. He looked different from the man I’d seen by torchlight – taller, leaner, and his face had a gaunt look, though there was something of a resemblance there. The meal at the table had been simple bread and cheese with a few apples, and the plain wooden chair on which he sat could never be termed a throne. It hardly seemed a feast for a King.

The servant who’d cleared the table returned and coughed.

Sire. They’re here.

The King nodded but continued reading. After a few moments the servant returned with six well-dressed men, who had the look of people who had seen places and done things. Their eyes took in the room, the fire, the servant and the man at the table. They didn’t immediately come forward, but hung back in a group until the King, without preamble, said,

Sit.

They moved forward as a group and each found a seat at the table. The King continued reading until he had been through them all, and then sighed. He placed the sheets one on another and rested a small silver knife upon the pile. He regarded each man in turn, until the last acknowledged his gaze, a man I thought I recognised.


Le Brun,

said the King.


My Liege?

he said.


Montgomerie, Giffard, Mowbray, Fitzrou, and Ferrers.

The King named each of them in turn, as if weighing them up. He cleared his throat.

Your families served my father, and my grandfather, and I hope you will serve my son when the time is come. That may not happen, if we cannot deal with our situation. We are beset on all sides,

he said.

There is trouble brewing again in Flanders, and the shipyards have yet more delays. There are reports of riot and insurrection in the north, fuelled by outbreaks of disease only made worse by a terrible harvest and widespread hunger. If there were food to sell, no one could afford to buy it. The coffers are empty and our debts rise faster than we can pay them off. Corruption is rife and there are men taking more in bribes than they deliver in taxes. The people are oppressed and they name me as the cause of it.


No, My Liege,

said Montgomerie.

Your people see you as their saviour.


In the next life, perhaps,

he agreed,

but not in this one. I can sit by and see it fall to ruin, or I can act, but in order to act I need men I can trust. Men who will not be bought, cannot be threatened, and would not be swayed. I need to show strength where it counts and mercy where it matters, but I cannot be everywhere. In short I need each of you to aid me, and bear a measure of this burden.


We are yours to command, Sire,

said Fitzrou.


Aye,

agreed the next.


My thanks, but if that were not true you would not be here. I need more than that. I need men who can be the King’s arm, the King’s head, and the King’s heart. I need men who can be left to act in trust, who will act in my name, without fail, without expectation of reward other than they do God’s will. You will need to use your judgement, use men worthy of trust, and use them wisely. I have chosen you because you stood where no one else would. You are brave, I have no doubt. You cannot be coerced into folly, or bought by those with heavy purses and few scruples. You are intelligent and perceptive. I would have all of this and more.

He took the pile of papers and went through them one by one.


I have nobles whose sworn purpose is to aid me, but they aid no one but themselves. Those who have sworn to see to our defence milk this country’s purse and build private armies funded from my coffers. Some play a double game, fraternising with subversives and traitors. Others plot to replace me with someone more to their liking. Some horde stores, hiking prices until they can swell their purses on the backs of the poor, selling them short loaves made with confiscated grain. This must end.


Where would you have us start, My Liege?

said Le Brun.


Understand,

said the King.

I am not so careless that I can replace those who undermine my efforts without consequence. I am not offering you their seats. Instead we must lay a double game to match theirs. We work behind the scene, eliminating where we must, bolstering where we can, until the walls are shored up and the gates will hold. Fitzrou, you will be my eyes and ears abroad. The best defence is to head off the attack before it starts. You have the connections, use them.


Yes, My Liege.


Le Brun, you have the military expertise. Let anyone who comes to our shores with evil intent regret their folly. Make us strong, and make us ready.


Aye, My Liege.


Mowbray, where Fitzrou protects us abroad, I want you to guard home and hearth. Bring peace to this land. Root out dissent where it cannot be turned to our accord, quell the riots, protect the weak and the helpless. Make it a land worthy of a man’s pride and a woman’s love.


I will, My Liege.


Giffard, I need your unquestioned integrity. When matters are brought before my courts I want them tried openly and fairly. Make the King’s justice a deterrent against villainy and the bulwark of the honest man, whoever he may be.


It will be done, My Liege.


Montgomerie, your service has long been a source of comfort to me, and your head for numbers is ever a boon. I need a tax regime that works, one that is fair, even-handed and straight. I want every man to know what he owes, and all men to pay only what they must. I need to know who is yet owing and who has already paid, lest any man pay twice while another goes untaxed. I need a man to put me in remembrance of all things owing to the King.


You have him, My Liege.

The King nodded, and turned to De Ferrers at his right hand. He regarded him long and hard, until De Ferrers asked,

What of me, My Liege? What would you have me do?


Your task is simply named, and the least simple of all,

said the King.

It is the greatest of burdens since it will eat at the heart of you until you trust no one and give no man but a second glance without wondering what else is in his heart.


Name it, My Liege,

said De Ferrers,

for I am yours to command.


Your task,

said the King,

is to keep the secrets of the kingdom.

I found myself lying on my side on the bench. The pain brought me back from the dark place I’d been hiding, the smell of burning candle wax and damp wool still lingering from my dream. From a distance I was like a wino who’d had too much, just another homeless person, kipping down on a bench. Only when you got close could you see the blood. If I called for help, no one would come. I would lie here until my magic claimed me, and then I would fall into dust and scatter under the night sky. Part of me wanted that – anything to make the pain stop. I drifted again, the welcoming dark claiming me.

What brought me back the second time was having my face slapped. “Come on, stupid. Talk to me.”

“Blackbird?” I whispered.

“No, you idiot, it’s me.” Amber’s voice coalesced through the haze of pain,

“Warm Amber,” I mumbled.

“You’re hallucinating,” she said. “You have to help yourself.”

“If it’s warm… why am I… so cold?” I asked her.

“You’ll be a lot colder in a minute if you don’t help yourself.” She shook me by the lapels. “Reach inside, Dogstar. It’s there, waiting. Let it out.”

“Waiting?” I sighed. “What for?”

“The power is within you. It can sustain you and heal your wounds. You have to let it out.”

“Let me be…” It was too hard. Too difficult.

“What’s Blackbird going to say if I let you die? Tell me that?” Amber pinched my ear, trying to get my attention. It was nothing against the pain I was retreating from.

“Let me be…”

“Listen. Reach inside. Open yourself to it. It’ll help with the pain. Do it.”

“It hurts…” I said.

“Do it now.”

Within me there was a flicker, a light that lost its spark. Around it, creeping darkness flared, easing into me, winding its way through my veins. “Light’s gone out…” I said.

“What light?” she asked. “Show me.”

“The one inside…” The light flickered again, responding to my attention. I focused on it, and it became stronger. “That light…” It flared into life within me, opening the dark well of power that formed the core of my being. I opened my eyes to find Amber’s face dappled in moonlight, leaning over me.

“Gently,” she said. “Slowly.”

“Someone will see…” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with that. Let your power extend. Open yourself up to the world and let the pain go. Let your power make you whole.”

“I don’t know how,” I said.

“Yes, you do. Your power knows how. Stop trying to hold the pain inside you. Let it spill out. Let the pain out, and the world in.”

If I let the pain go it would consume me, or that’s what it felt like. I would be burned up, lost in the intensity of it. Maybe that’s what she wanted. Maybe that’s what I deserved. And yet, as my magic lay like moonlit velvet around us, I could feel it connecting. It was feeding from the earth and the air that surrounded us, bringing me sustenance, holding back the tide. I let it extend a little and I could feel as it crept out across the grass, as it lent tiny pulses of warmth to my failing body.

Distracted for a moment from the pain, I felt the well of power within me dilate and spill out. It ran out away across the grass like invisible tendrils seeking warmth and life. It crept around Amber, but she slapped it back with a warding. Instead, it spread out through the trees, winding through the gaps in the fences, creeping across roads and under cars, into houses, through the cracks in windows, under the gaps in doors.

All around me there was life. The dense urban landscape was teaming with it, each buzzing with energy, radiating warmth. The threads of power tapped into that energy like roots absorbing ground water. Each tendril took a little of what it could find, pulling back a little of the whole. It travelled back along the threads, building until it was a stream of life, a flood of energy and power.

I felt the pain diminish as the power sang within me. I felt the cold dark power withdraw back into the well inside me as warmth crept back into my veins. My cold, pallid skin warmed and then flushed as it flooded my senses. Inside me, the twisted agony unravelled to be replaced by a tenderness that spoke of healing. The release of not needing to hold back the pain was like a weight taken from me, and I could finally let it go.

I opened my eyes to find Amber looking down at me. “Not too much at once,” she said. “Slowly. I think the bleeding is slowing.”

“I feel like I’ve been desiccated,” I told her in a hoarse whisper, “my throat is so dry,”

She looked around. “If I leave you here for five minutes are you going to die on me?”

I looked around from my limited position lying on the bench. “I don’t see what damage I can do, except perhaps bludgeon myself to death on the bench.”

“I’ll be back,” she said. She walked away into the dark and quickly vanished into the shadows. I closed my eyes for a second – I’m sure it was only a second.

“He’s not dead, he’s snoring,” said a voice. I opened my eyes to find a pale face under a baseball cap looking down at me. “And he’s got his eyes open.”

I blinked. The voice sounded black and street, but the skin was very definitely pale.

“Look at this, bro?” said another voice. The face over me moved back revealing another in the same style – except this one was brandishing my sword. In my injured state I’d forgotten about it, and my glamour must have slipped enough for it to become visible and obvious.

“I’d leave that alone if I were you,” I croaked, but I was in no state to enforce the threat. They both ignored me.

“That’s wicked,” said the second guy. He sliced at the air experimentally, making his friend step back. To my trained eye, he was more likely to injure himself than anyone else, but the problem of getting it back remained.

“Just give it to me, OK?” I asked, hoarsely.

“Or what?” he said, posturing with the sword.

Amber spoke from behind him. “Or we find out how far you can run without a head.” He spun round to find her standing behind him, holding her own blade alongside her leg. As he turned, she stepped in and her blade flashed. She stepped back, with her blade resting by her leg again.

“Missed,” he said, grinning broadly at her. Then his trousers began to slowly droop as his belt fell into two pieces and gave way.

“Unless you can use that, you’d better put it down. Slowly and gently,” she warned.

He was caught between holding the blade and holding his trousers up. He glanced to his friend.

“You’ll never make it,” she warned.” I’ll cut your hamstrings so you can’t run and then I’ll slice you into little pieces,” she said.

“Believe her,” I rasped.

He glanced back at me.

“Last warning,” she said. “Sword. Ground. Now.”

He exchanged glances with this friend and for a moment I thought they were going for it, but he gently lowered the blade to the ground.

“You’re wiser than you look.” said Amber.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy carrying stuff like that around. The plod‘ll have you banged up, well tight.”

“We don’t bother the police, and they don’t bother us. Walk on. Don’t come back.” He backed away and joined his friend and they both jogged away.

“Fuckin’ crazies!” he shouted back when they were far enough away to think they were safe.

Amber stared after them, then collected my sword.

“They’re just kids,” I said.

“Time was,” said Amber, “they’d have more knowledge, and more fear. Here.” She passed me a plastic bottle. “It’s some kind of sports drink. I found it in the vending machine in the college. The sugar will get you on your feet and you need the liquid.”

I sat up slowly and struggled with the top of the bottle. I felt weak as a kitten. She pulled it from me, twisted off the top and handed it back, sitting down beside me with my scabbarded sword resting on her lap.

“You lost a lot of blood. If I hadn’t followed you, you’d be dead.”

I licked my chapped lips. “You were following me?”

“Someone has to look after you,” she said.

“Garvin,” I said, tracing my way back through her words.

“He asked me to keep track of you,” she said. “Looks like he made the right decision. No, don’t sit up. You’re going to be light-headed for a bit.

“How did you find me?”

“I saw you leave the courts with one of the drivers, figured that you were going back for the horseshoes. I waited at Claire’s flat, saw you enter and then leave.”

“Someone cleaned up the mess before I got there,” I told her.

“After you left I walked it through. A professional job – very thorough. I thought you would head back to the courts, so I headed back after you, except you didn’t arrive.”

I took a long drink and sifted through her words.

“That doesn’t explain how you found me. I could have gone back with Dave in the car. I would have been on the motorway by now.”

“That would have been slow,” she remarked. “Why take the long route when you can use the Ways.”

“Why are you avoiding my question?” I asked her.

“It’s a secret,” she said. “If I tell you, I have to kill you.”

Was she teasing me? “You’ve tagged me,” I said. “There’s something…” A realisation dawned. What did Garvin always tell me to take with me? “My sword. That’s how you found it after I lost it on the Tor. That’s how you found me now.”

“All the Warders weapons are warded for finding,” said Amber. “You never know when you might lose one and need to get it back. If you’d left it behind you’d have been dead. Who shot you?”

“Sam Veldon. He told me he had something for me. He didn’t say it was a bullet.”

“You’ll have to track him down. Give him something in return,” she said, with a wry smile.

“The edge of a blade?” I tried to laugh but it emerged as a dry cough. “No, someone put him up to it. Someone guided him to me. I need to know who it was.”

“OK. You get what you need from him and then you kill him.”

“He thinks I killed Claire. He’s just an angry man who lashes out at the nearest target.”

“If you don’t want to do it, I’ll do it for you,” she volunteered.

“It’s not a matter of… do we have to kill everyone?” I asked.

“It’s a challenge. If you don’t deal with it, it will only come back and bite you.” She was sat on the bench beside me, relaxed and calm, talking about murdering someone.

“He’s not fey,” I told her. “He’s not challenging me. He doesn’t even know me. He’s just angry because he messed up his relationship with Claire and now she’s lying in a morgue somewhere with her throat cut. The only thing he can do to assuage his loss is to lash out. I was nearest, that’s all.”

“He’ll try again, mark my words.”

“Then I’ll kill him when he does, if it’ll make you happy.” I said. “Aren’t you going to give me a hard time about letting those yobs take my sword?” I asked between swigs. “Garvin would.”

“No. I’d give you a hard time about getting shot. But it’s too late for that as well.”

I drank some more. It was sweet, fizzy and tasted like cough mixture, but at that moment it was like nectar. “I’m pretty useless at this, aren’t I?” I admitted, shaking my head. “I guess I just don’t have the killer instinct.

“There are two kinds of Warders, Niall, dead and alive. We were all useless to start with. We all made mistakes, and we have the scars to prove it. Those that didn’t make the grade aren’t here to boast about it.”

“What about Garvin?”

“Not all scars are on the outside. Fellstamp made a bad decision. He’s paying for it now.”

That silenced me. I’d fought Fellstamp in my initiation into the Warders, and he’d lost when I’d pierced his shoulders with a long sword. We both knew that I’d won because he was wielding the wrong weapon. If he’d had something lighter he’d have slaughtered me. I gulped some more of the fizzy drink and burped noisily.

“Charmed,” said Amber.

“So you would have gone in heavy?” I asked her. “With Sam, I mean?”

“I’ve already given you that advice and you made excuses for him. Either kill or be killed, that’s the rule.”

“You have a black and white view of the world, you know?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a pool of his own blood,” she pointed out.

I looked down at the congealed stain on the bench. She had a valid point. Maybe the rain that was starting to spot the pathway around us would wash it away. “Drink up,” she encouraged. “You need the liquid, and those friends of yours will be back shortly. Paddington Green Police Station is just beyond and they’re just the type to break a habit of a lifetime and enter a police station willingly to report us.”

“The police won’t believe them,” I said. “They’re more likely to be carrying themselves.”

“Nevertheless,” said Amber. “I’ll escort you back. You need to rest. You can hunt Sam down tomorrow.” She stood, and I pushed myself up to my feet. “Can you walk?” she asked.

“I’ll manage,” I said.

“We’ll take the easy route,” she said, looking me up and down. “You know what your problem is, Niall?”

“Which one?” I asked. It seemed like I had so many problems.

“You don’t accept being fey.”

“I thought I was doing quite well,” I said. “I’ve coped with most things so far.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “You call your power when you need it. You summon it when you have a purpose, but most of the time you bury it within you. You hide it, because you’re afraid it makes you less than you are.”

“And you don’t?”

“My power is always with me. It lives and breathes within me and is as much a living part of me as my fingers, or my heart. It’s there when I eat, and when I sleep. It’s in every breath.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to be like that,” I said.

“When you are, and someone tries to shoot you, you’ll be able to finish them before they finish you,” she said. “Until then, you need someone to watch your back.”

She led the way across the grass, waiting when I lagged behind.

BOOK: The Eighth Court
6.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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