“When to heal is a personal decision that must be taken by each elfin individually. But I may as well say plainly that there are only two guardians of sufficient power in this fort to do what you ask and I know them both very well, child, and neither of them would ever do such a thing. So accept that the answer is no, and smother your hope as quickly and painlessly as you can.”
I thought my heart would burst with relief. It wasn’t an absolute ‘No’. I’d been so sure that utter, irrevocable refusal was coming that I felt quite dizzy. I still had to persuade one of these grim-faced elfin to help me, but I was free to try!
I curtseyed politely. “Thank you, Your Majesty. May I inquire as to the identity of the two guardians you mentioned?”
Ystevan give a soft sigh from beside me, as though he recognized that I had taken it not in the slightest as a refusal.
The Queen, however, looked rather amused by my question. “Say really, three, but I am the third, and have given you my answer. Lord Alliron, please make yourself known to the child.”
A bony he-elf who looked fairly advanced in his middle years stepped forward. His expression of disdainful disgust did not fill me with undue hope. “I am Lord Alliron, human. I would be more than happy to speed your father’s passing; do not hope for anything else.”
I bristled inside but forced myself to be polite. I curtseyed again to the guardian and smiled at him. “I'm sorry to hear that, Lord Alliron,” I said sweetly, “but I'm very pleased to meet you.”
Ystevan made a sound halfway between a sighing sob and a laugh. Alliron had already beaten a retreat, so I looked inquiringly at the Queen, who just smiled again.
“The other, need hardly make himself known to you, but still. Lord Ystevan...”
I turned to my host with more familiarity and less sweetness. “You?”
“I fear Alliron and myself must have done something to offend Her Majesty,” sighed the he-elf. “Either that, or she does not yet appreciate what she has done.”
“Come, come, Ystevan,” said the Queen, at that, “I hardly had any choice. If you were worried, you should have advised her to ask for the removal of sorcery instead of standing back so impartially and letting her ask what she would. Anyway, Ystevan, she is just a little girl, and a human at that; no offence, dear,” she added to me. “She’ll pester you for a few days, and then she’ll realize it’s no use. So there’s hardly much cause for concern on your part.”
Ystevan smiled wryly and shook his head to himself.
“I expect she’s settled in with your family by now,” the Queen went on, “so as long as it’s all right with Haliath, she’d best remain with you. Look after her, now, she is our kin, and Aramantha was very dear to me.”
Ystevan nodded and bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied, then added, “I don’t think I'm needed now, am I?”
The Queen shook her head. “Indeed not, so take our guest away and show her around.”
I curtseyed and followed Ystevan from the chamber, my heart singing. I had hope still, real hope. Alliron and Ystevan. One of them had to help me.
~+~
CHAPTER 35
CUTRIDGE LANE
“S’trewth, now what?” said Sir Allen Malster as he came downstairs the next morning to find me in his hall.
“Is that any way to speak to your future ward?” I asked rather dispiritedly. I really was going to end up his ward, at this rate. Only three elfin in that big fort who even could heal my father, and only one of them here in London. Still, at least there was one. If I could ever find him again.
He came forward and took my shoulders, looking down at my unhappy face. “Oh, come now, girl, what can I do for you?”
When he’d guided me into the drawing room and seen me settled in an armchair, he took the wooden chair from the desk and sat on it backwards, chin on folded arms, eyes fixed on my face. “So?” he inquired.
I drew a rather shaky breath. My father’s condition was terrifying me. “Lord Ystevan can get the medicine that will help my father,” I told Sir Allen. “But he refused to do so. He gave me the slip and now I can’t find him again.”
Sir Allen shook his head without raising it from the chair back. “Don’t look at me, girl. I have genuine information for Lord Ystevan but he didn’t respond to my summons yesterday. I dare say you are the reason why not. It is not of much account. Normally he knows these things ahead of me, only occasionally not.”
I bit my lip. In truth, I had not really expected to trap Lord Ystevan in the same way twice, but Sir Allen was my only link. “What is the information? Might it help me find him?”
Sir Allen just shook his head.
“Please? It’s terribly important.”
“Serapia,” said Sir Allen, giving me a long, searching look. “You seem so desperate to acquire this medicine. But surely your father’s condition is such that the best medicine in the world will do little but…ease his passing. Is it worth all this trouble and unhappiness?”
I looked at my hands for a long moment, debating with myself. An honest man, but not a saint. Control of the Ravena fortune… How honest a man was he? I wasn’t sure I had anything to lose, though.
“Sir Allen,” I said at last. “The medicine I seek would actually save my father’s life. That is why I seek it so desperately. Perhaps you will think me a silly girl, but I swear, it exists. Lord Ystevan has it and I simply have to find him.”
He stared at me for a moment. “I do not think you are a silly girl,” he said quietly, “but I do think you perhaps underestimate the seriousness of your father’s illness.”
“Please, Sir Allen,” I said. “The information you have for Lord Ystevan, what is it?”
Sir Allen shook his head and stood, pacing up and down. “It pertains to matters in which I cannot possibly allow you to be involved. It is out of the question. Especially in light of my future responsibility for your safety.”
“That information could save my father’s life,” I said unrelentingly. “I have survived many things indeed, Sir Allen, and you know it. Are you quite certain it is me you are worried about, and not your own purse?”
He swung around, fury on his face. “How dare you…”
“Well, the mistake is easily made,” I snapped. “What am I supposed to think? You have information that could save my father and you will not give it to me!”
“If you would be entirely forthcoming with me I would see to the saving of your father’s life myself,” Sir Allen retorted.
“Are you going to give me the information or not?” I demanded, ignoring that last remark.
Sir Allen jerked his head dismissively. “Of course I am not! However capable you may be, you are a fourteen-year-old girl! Tell me what you know so I can help your father, or leave with nothing.”
I stared at him, my eyes narrowing. Leave with nothing. That was not happening. Not…not so long as he had the information written down. And here. I pictured a piece of paper with writing on, a very secret, important piece of paper, let the question form in my mind. Where…?
The right side of Sir Allen’s doublet. Some sort of hidden internal pocket. The information was here!
I ducked my head, let my lip wobble…imagined my father really dying…pictured Ystevan—Lord Ystevan, that was—ruthlessly wiping all memory of himself and his family from my mind... Tears began to leak from my eyes. I sniffed hard, trying to work up to some real sobs. I didn’t dare fake any. Sir Allen was too perceptive. Gah, I needed to be more upset!
Oooouch! Raven had just sunk her tiny fangs into the fleshy part of my arm. My eyes watered freely, and fed with more dismal imaginings of my future if I didn’t manage to cry convincingly enough, the sobs finally gathered force.
From the slightly frantic now, now, there, there noises Sir Allen had been making, he’d put their slowness in developing down to my efforts to hold them in, rather than the opposite. Thankfully.
“Oh dear…” he sighed. And finally closed the distance between us in
order to put an awkward hand on my back. When my sobs showed no sign of abating, he crouched beside me—at last! I promptly flung my arms around him, burying my damp face in his shoulder.
Unseen…unseen…unseen… My mind slipped into the familiar—though nowadays seldom used—background concentration, as my fingers eased several buttons from their holes and slid inside Sir Allen’s doublet, searching for the opening to that flat, concealed pocket inside the inner lining. There... My nape remained fairly quiescent—after all, I wasn’t stealing. I wasn’t even borrowing, really. A look was all I needed. I eased the paper out, concentration unwavering, and angled my head until I could see. A half page of densely written script.
Unseen…unseen…unseen…
I scanned it rapidly. Most of it was useless to me, a report about the ins and outs of what an unnamed person had been doing, but…there! The only hard information on the paper. A one-line address:
64 Cutridge Lane
A pleasant part of the city, that. I’d have to take someone with me.
Unseen…unseen…unseen…
I slid the report back into Sir Allen’s pocket, re-fastening the buttons neatly, and made sure my arm was wrapped back around him in a convincingly tearful grip before finally relaxing my concentration.
I had the information. But if Lord Ystevan sometimes had such information before Sir Allen…there wasn’t a moment to lose!
Managing at long last to get a bit of a grip on myself—or so I hoped it seemed—I quickly rose to leave.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sir Allen asked, trailing after me to the door—though his hand did brush momentarily against his doublet—just checking. He wasn’t a man who’d overlook the possible consequences of getting so close to a former urchin. That I could have not only reached the paper, but read it and replaced it without him noticing was clearly beyond the stretch of his imagination, not unreasonably.
“I’m fine,” I sniffed. “I’m fine. You made it clear you’re not going to help!”
“I did offer to help!” His frustrated words followed me down the steps, and I sensed the gaze that followed me was not a happy one.
Leaping up into the coach the moment the footman opened the door, I banged on the ceiling but kept my voice too low for Sir Allen to catch. “The Quays, Richard, as fast as you can. Go.” The footmen scrambled to get aboard and we were off. I banged on the ceiling at every pause, urging Richard to go faster. If I missed Lord Ystevan, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I refused to dwell on what would happen if Lord Ystevan never came to the place.
Finally, we were approaching the Quays district. At this speed, we were going to pull up in an extremely conspicuous shower of mud and gravel. I banged on the ceiling yet again. “Pull up gently, Richard.”
The coachman did so, in a quiet street. I opened the door myself and was on the ground by the time the footmen got down. “William, Stephen, you stay here with me. Put on your oiled capes. William, take the crossbow. Keep it out of sight. Stephen, take a sword. Richard, you can drive the coach home. I will find my own way back. Tell my father not to worry if I do not return till late, or even not until morning.”
Richard’s expression suggested that if his daughter told him such a thing after dismounting in the Quays she would get a thick ear and short shrift, but he bowed his head reluctantly and clucked to the horses.
I wrapped my own long cloak carefully around me. No rain fell yet, but I wanted my fine dress and the footmen’s tell-tale livery hidden from view. These were not the clothes I would have chosen for a safe foray into the Quays, but there simply wasn’t time to change. Hence the crossbow. A crossbow could not really be satisfactorily hidden beneath a cloak from those that knew about such things, and would be an excellent deterrent. I hoped.
I turned to William and Stephen, who looked, if anything, even unhappier than Richard. “You two are going to come with me,” I told them. “Now, you are not to start anything, do you understand? If someone actually tries to carry me off, you will defend me, but if they simply slap me on the… Well, you ignore it, is that clear?”
Three well-dressed persons such as ourselves didn’t want to start anything in this quarter. No one would pile into the fray. Not to help us, anyway.
From the footmen’s expressions, they were all too aware of this. They nodded glumly and followed as I set off into a warren of dank alleyways. It was still early and the streets were fairly quiet, which meant we were more conspicuous but there were less people to notice us. Very much a mixed blessing. Fortunately Cutridge Lane wasn’t far.
I took advantage of several tiny back alleys to approach number sixty-four unseen. A typical black and white building, it comprised a ground floor with a first floor protruding a foot or two over the street with an attic above that. There was no rear access; the row of houses at the back leant full against it. Another tiny alley did run along one side of it, but from the darkness of our own alley, we could see both this and the front of the house well enough.
Sending Stephen to acquire some ragged fabric from somewhere at a discreet distance, I checked we were unobserved and then arranged the abandoned refuse of the alley into a suitably convincing beggar’s squat. It had probably been one fairly recently. When Stephen returned, I wrapped a disreputable cloak over my fine one and oversaw Stephen and William camouflaged as well as possible in an assortment of threadbare blankets.
“Now what, my lady?” asked William uncomfortably, when we were settled.
“Now we wait,” I said firmly. “And if anyone should actually give us money, I’ll say ‘Thank ‘ee, sir, ma’am’, and you’ll keep your mouths shut.”
The footmen shot me startled looks. Knowing their master’s daughter had been an urchin and hearing perfect urchin speech dropping from my lips were apparently two quite different things.
~+~
We waited. All day. It began to rain. The footmen shivered miserably behind me. I ignored them. The day was mild and they were wrapped in their oiled capes. I was getting much wetter myself, but I paid it no heed. Around midday I took a careful look in my purse, under cover of my cloaks.
William and Stephen stiffened hopefully. But I had no more coins small enough to bring into the light of day in this place, and had to put it away again. The grumbling stomachs of the young men grew steadily louder as the afternoon wore on. My own, grown accustomed to the regular meals of my father’s house, began to make a few gurgles as well.
By late afternoon I felt more and more frantic. If Lord Ystevan had heard about this place of potential interest before Sir Allen, he might have already been here, the day before. But I couldn’t know, so I couldn’t leave. I set my teeth, striving to drive the increasingly panic-stricken thoughts from my mind, and went on waiting.
Then Raven suddenly uncoiled from the position of sleepy lethargy in which she had whiled away most of the long day. I could feel the sudden alertness in her little body and looked around with close attention.
After a moment, I saw a lean figure swathed in a long dark cloak strolling casually along the street in the direction of number sixty-four. I turned immediately to speak to the footmen. A visit to the Quays would not have alarmed me normally, but in my current state of dress I regarded the idea of walking home alone with apprehension. But surely Lord Ystevan was too much of a gentle…he-elf to abandon me in this place. But only if I was truly alone.
“You two can go home now,” I said quickly to the footmen and nodded over my shoulder, “I shall be with that gentleman; he is very capable, do not worry. Tell cook she is to give you a good dinner though you are late,” I added, in a flash of inspiration.
William and Stephen brightened visibly, and though they clearly disliked leaving me there, they obeyed their orders and with that incentive were gone down the alley almost before I had got to my feet myself.
Pausing only to rearrange the ragged cloak around myself, I slid out into the street and up to the dark-swathed figure.
Lord Ystevan started and
looked down at me. “Serapia, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here, Lord Ystevan? My father’s still dying.”
He made a sound of intense frustration and with a glance at number sixty-four, drew me into the alley beside it. “How did you get this address?”
“Sir Allen. He’d have told you yesterday if you’d shown up.”
“He let you come anywhere near here!” The he-elf sounded horrified. “And I thought he was so intelligent. The man’s an idiot.”
“He didn’t tell me. But I found out anyway.”
“Well, the answer is still no, so you’ve wasted your time. The sooner a sorcerer is before God’s judgment, the better for everyone, and good riddance!”
“Good riddance?” I echoed, furious. “You know what your problem is? You don’t see him as a loving...and loved...father. Can’t you just think? What if it were your father? Either you’re not thinking about it that way, or you didn’t like your own pa much!”
“My father died defending my kin against people like your father! Quite clearly it is you that doesn’t understand!” snapped the he-elf. “You’re just a spoilt little girl who thinks she can have absolutely anything she wants because she always has before! Well, I am neither of your doting parents and this you cannot have!”
I stepped back as if he had slapped me, for the first time completely lost for words. Spoilt! Anything I wanted? Always? How dare he! It was so ridiculous I choked! I’d wanted a mother who’d look me in the face and still love me, I’d wanted to keep even the mother who would not, I’d wanted to spend the last years of my childhood somewhere warm with food and clothing that I called home...and I’d wanted someone else to love me and care for me, and I’d only found him to be threatened with losing him again. How could I possibly accept that without fighting all the way? That wasn’t spoilt!
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