Hawk looked at him—and just that look was enough to stop the Prince right in his tracks. To his surprise, Richard found he really didn’t want to push this. There was something about this Hawk person . . .
“I don’t mean to presume,” said Hawk, in a tone of voice that made it clear he was going to anyway, “but I know what to look for in the Armoury, and where to look for it. And I’m taking Gillian, to watch my back. Still, it is your Court, and your Armoury, so I suppose you’d better come too. Your highness.”
“Nice of you to include me,” said the Prince.
“If he’s going, then I’m going too!” Catherine said immediately. “I’m not being left out of things!”
“And if you are going,” said the Sombre Warrior, “then I must go with you, Princess. I am your bodyguard.”
“No,” Richard said flatly. “Sorry, sir Warrior, but no. You may be the First Minister’s secret agent, and you may be the protector of my beloved, but I’m not having a Redhart man in the Castle Armoury. Just not on. This is Royal family business. I’m stretching a point to let them in, though I’m not absolutely sure why . . . but there are limits. I don’t know enough about you yet, sir Warrior.”
The Sombre Warrior nodded slowly. “I understand, your highness. Trust must be earned. And I have served so many masters . . . I will leave the Princess to your protection, Prince Richard. I think . . . I will go speak with Laurence Garner, head of Castle security. I’m sure we could find a lot to talk about. And I’m sure he can find me something useful to do, to guard the Castle against attack, from within, as well as without.”
He turned abruptly and left the Court. No one got in his way. Richard looked at Catherine. “Do you know what he was talking about, there?”
“No,” said Catherine. “But then, it seems there’s a lot I never knew about that man.”
“Do you know what he really looks like, behind the mask?”
“No. I don’t think I want to. I can’t believe his face is really as bad as the stories and songs make out, but . . . no. It would only distract from the mystique. Hey, am I really your beloved?”
“What?” said Richard.
“You called me your beloved.”
“It’s how I think of you. Do you mind?”
“No,” said Catherine. “I like it. Sweetie.”
“I’ll lead a force into the Cathedral,” Fisher said loudly. “Been a long time since I was last there, but it’s not like I’ve ever been able to forget some of the things I saw in that place. Prince Richard, there are things in the Cathedral—secrets, tucked away in hidden and forgotten places—that you’re going to need.”
“How do you know this?” said Richard. He wanted to be angry with her for undermining his authority, but couldn’t. In her own way, Fisher was just as mysterious and intimidating as Hawk.
“Best not to ask, your highness,” murmured Raven. “I know something of the Cathedral’s secrets, so I will accompany Fisher. There are magical weapons and items of power that you’re going to need in the war that’s coming.”
“Yes,” said Jack. “There are. I’ll come with you.”
“I can manage on my own, Uncle,” said Raven.
“I’m sure you could,” said Jack, leaning on his wooden staff and smiling at the Necromancer. “But since we will be investigating the Cathedral, I think one of us should be in God’s grace, don’t you?”
“Yes, Uncle,” said Raven, “you’re quite right, of course.”
Fisher and Jack and Raven smiled at one another, while Richard looked at them in quiet bafflement. There was clearly something going on between them, to which he wasn’t privy. And since he had a strong feeling that if he asked they’d just ignore him, he decided not to ask. But he was the Prince, so he couldn’t just let it go.
“Who are you people?” he said bluntly. “I mean, really?”
“We are the saviours of the Forest Land,” said Hawk.
If anyone else had said that, everyone else would have laughed at them. But no one challenged Hawk. There was just something about the man . . .
“Before we set off, I’ll just take a moment to send out a message to all the other magic-users in the Forest,” said Raven. “That they need to come gather together, here in the Castle. There’s bound to be magical attacks from Redhart, so the sooner we prepare ourselves, the better. I know Forest Castle is supposed to have all kinds of ancient, built-in protections and defences, but . . .”
“Yes,” said Hawk. “But. No defence lasts forever.” He stopped, as a thought struck him. “What about the Night Witch? Is she still running the Night School for Witches?”
There was a long pause. Everyone looked at him, in a quietly shocked sort of way.
“What?” said Hawk.
“Do you mean the evil and murderous Night Witch of legend?” said Raven slowly. “I didn’t know there was any connection between her and the Night School for Witches.”
“She used to run it, back in the day,” Hawk said briskly. “It was never made public, of course, but everyone knew. Or at least everyone who mattered.”
“But . . . she’d have to be hundreds of years old by now!” said Prince Richard.
“Who are we talking about here?” said Princess Catherine. “I thought I knew most of the Forest songs and legends, but . . .”
“It’s old Forest history, as well as legend,” said Richard. “The Night Witch, tempter of men, beautiful beyond bearing—and a twisted creature of evil who murdered young girls and bathed in their blood to keep herself young.”
“That’s the one,” said Hawk. “She fell in love with King Eduard of the Forest, long ago. Your ancestor, Richard—though don’t ask me how many great-greats are involved. And he loved her, but he couldn’t bear who and what she’d made of herself. In the end she ran away, to live in the endless night of the Darkwood. To grow old alone, where no one could see she wasn’t beautiful anymore.”
“But she came back, to run the Night School for Witches?” said Catherine. “Why would she do that?”
“Sentiment, perhaps,” said Hawk.
“But still, she’d have to be two, three hundred years, or more,” said Richard, just a bit desperately.
Hawk looked at him. “Who knows how long someone like that might live?”
“Right,” said Fisher. “There’s lots of people still around who probably shouldn’t be. Really. You’d be surprised.”
Raven nodded slowly. “I will send a message to the Night School for Witches. With your real names attached. That should get her attention.”
“Mention Eduard as well,” said Hawk. “She might come in his memory, where she wouldn’t come in mine.”
He smiled easily at Richard, openly defying him to dig any deeper. Richard honestly hadn’t a clue what to say. He could deal with history; living legends were something else altogether. Hawk looked around suddenly.
“Talking of things that have lived too long, has anyone seen our dog recently?”
• • •
Chappie was wandering aimlessly through the corridors of the Castle, having been thrown out of the kitchens. Again. He didn’t know why they’d made such a fuss and come after him with heavy ladles and harsh language. It was really quite a small chicken, and it hadn’t been like anyone was using it, as far as he could see. He grinned widely and moved on, following his nose in a vaguely hopeful way. Until he stopped abruptly and looked about him. He wasn’t sure, but he seemed to recognise this particular piece of corridor. It was mostly shadows and dust, well off the beaten path, but still . . . His eyesight had never been that good, if he was honest with himself, which he usually tried very hard not to be, but his nose was still working fine. And he was sure that he had been here, in this place, before. With his first master, Allen Chance. (Though, of course, Chappie would rather have died than ever tell Chance that he thought of him that way.) Allen Chance, Queen’s Questor, hero and adventurer. Dead and gone these many years. Along with the girl he married, the witch Tiffany. And
probably their children too. That was the problem with being a magical dog and living so long. You went on, but you left so many good friends behind . . . It wasn’t right.
Dogs were never supposed to outlive their masters.
Of all the people Chappie had known, and reluctantly cared for, only Rupert and Julia were left. Or Hawk and Fisher, as they were now known. The dog sniffed loudly. You wouldn’t catch him changing his name and pretending to be someone else. He was who he was, and proud of it, even if most people around him at the time mostly weren’t. He’d adopted Hawk and Fisher as his new masters, but he never really felt like he belonged to them. Not like he had with Allen Chance. Chappie sat down abruptly on the cold stone floor and let his great head droop, just a little. Dogs need to belong to someone. Even magical dogs. Dogs aren’t supposed to be on their own. Sometimes Chappie thought he stayed with Hawk and Fisher only because they were the only ones who might outlive him. They’d always treated him kindly enough; it was just that he was never sure he mattered to them. They always had so much going on . . .
He scratched himself slowly. Getting old, finally. He could feel it in his bones, and what were left of his teeth. Even dogs created by the High Warlock couldn’t expect to live forever, and some days that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. If he’d known he was going to live this long, he would have taken better care of himself. All dogs go to Heaven, Chance said to him once. Because if they weren’t there, it wouldn’t be Heaven. Chappie wasn’t sure he’d be allowed in, after some of the things he’d done, but it would be nice to see his old friends again.
And not feel old anymore.
He sighed heavily and lurched to his feet. Moping was bad for you. Everyone knew that. When in doubt, go look for some trouble to get into. Where were Hawk and Fisher? Wherever they were, trouble seemed to find them. That was why he’d chosen to go live with them, after all.
• • •
Hawk and his daughter, Gillian, and Richard and his love, Catherine, made their way into the depths of the Forest Castle, heading for the old Armoury. Richard made a point of leading the way, just to show who was in charge, and Hawk let him. The Prince took them through a series of side corridors and shortcuts, some known only to him. The deeper into the Castle they progressed, the fewer people they came across, running around like mad things, trying to be helpful and just getting in the way. Because there were some parts of the Castle where no one went unless they absolutely had to.
“I can remember when no one could get to the Armoury, because it was in the lost South Wing,” Hawk said suddenly, out of nowhere. “Julia found the missing wing; and then she discovered the three Infernal Devices in the restored Armoury.”
Richard stopped suddenly, so they all had to stop with him. The Prince gave Hawk his hardest look. “How the hell could you know that? That was wiped from official history, and only passed down through members of the Royal line. No one was ever supposed to know! Not that I ever trusted a lot of the old stories; most of them are as much legend as history.”
“You never knew the Castle as it used to be,” said Hawk. “Back when it was bigger on the inside than the outside, and legends came as standard.”
“Of course not,” said Richard. “No one still living does! I don’t know what your game is, Hawk, but . . .”
“We’re wasting time,” said Gillian, doing her best to be diplomatic. It wasn’t something that came easily to her, but it didn’t look like anyone else was going to do it. “Let’s find the Armoury, and worry about everything else afterwards.”
Richard gave Hawk his best dark, suspicious look. Hawk smiled easily back at him. Richard gave it up as a bad job, shrugged angrily, and went back to leading the way. Catherine trotted along beside him, unusually silent, for her. But then, the day had taken a lot out of her. Gillian moved in beside Hawk.
“Stop teasing the Prince,” she said, quietly but firmly.
“It’s being back in the Castle,” said Hawk. “It always brought out the worst in me.”
They finally arrived at the great double doors that closed off the Armoury from the rest of the Castle. Two massive slabs of beaten metal, covered with centuries’ accumulation of engraved runes and glyphs and magical protections, and a whole bunch of obscure but very definitely obscene graffiti. As Prince Richard drew near, the doors swung smoothly and silently open on ancient concealed counterweights. As though they’d been waiting for him. Expecting him. Richard refused to be impressed or intimidated; he just straightened his back and stuck his chin out and kept walking forward. He was damned if he was going to be spooked by a set of doors, no matter how old or horribly protected they might be. (Growing up in Forest Castle, one of the first things you learned was not to let the Castle intimidate you, or you’d never dare leave your room.) He strode straight through the widening gap into the Armoury, and then stumbled to a stop despite himself. The sheer size and scale of the place always took his breath away, but this was different. The Armoury seemed . . . bigger. Much bigger. Catherine stood beside him, holding his hand tightly and peering about her with wide, awed eyes.
“Richard . . . I had no idea! Castle Midnight has its own Armoury, of course, as old as yours, probably, but nothing like this! Look at it . . . This has got to be bigger than the Court, or the Great Hall. It looks like it goes back forever! There’s enough swords and axes and God knows what else on those walls to outfit a dozen armies! How big is this place?”
“Good question,” said Richard. “As big as it needs to be, apparently. The official Forest Armoury is elsewhere these days. Under Parliament’s control. No doubt Peregrine has his people running around opening it up even as we speak. This is where we keep the old, magical, legendary weapons. In an old, magical, legendary place. It’s supposed to be just a museum now. A lot of the weapons here don’t officially exist anymore. If only because confirmation of their existence would scare the crap out of most people.”
“It was ever thus,” said Hawk.
He and Gillian had squeezed in past Richard and Catherine and were looking around with interest. Richard glared at Hawk. He wanted to say something really cutting, to put the young warrior in his place, but somehow he couldn’t. Just looking at Hawk, and the way Hawk looked at the Armoury, Richard had no doubt that somehow Hawk really did know this place. And what it held.
Ahead of them, the dimly lit hall stretched away into the distance. The few, and far between, foxfire lamps illuminated the weapons displayed on the walls well enough, but the way ahead was still mostly gloom and shadow. And from out of the shadows came the Armourer himself, Bertram Pettydew. He stood beaming before them. Bertram clasped his bony hands together over his sunken chest, and smiled and bobbed his oversized head at everyone.
“Oh, hello there!” said Bertram Pettydew, in his thin, reedy voice. “Hello, gents and ladies! Come for a nice look at the weapons, have you? We don’t get many visitors these days. Just as well, really. They will keep wanting to touch things! Though I did have that Sir Jasper in here, just a while back. Very nice gent, for a ghost. Though he did seem very certain that there was a war on the way . . . I could have told him! Hang around here long enough, and there’s always a war on the way! That’s what we’re here for . . .”
Catherine held up her hand to get his attention. “Sir Jasper was here? What was he doing here?”
“Came for the tour, same as you . . . And looking for clues as to who he used to be, I think,” said Bertram. “Poor old thing.”
Hawk and Gillian looked at Catherine, who felt obliged to explain. “Sir Jasper’s a ghost. I met him in the Forest on my way here. In a deserted graveyard, quite suitably. He’s been a ghost so long he’s forgotten whose ghost he is. Who he used to be, when he was still alive. He took the name Jasper from a headstone in the graveyard that he felt sort of attached to, but it’s probably not his real name. I brought him with me to the Castle, partly to help him find out who he was, but mostly because I thought he’d annoy all the right people. And he did!”
<
br /> “He is very good at that,” agreed Richard.
“I’ve never been keen on ghosts,” said Hawk. “Life is for the living.”
“Right,” growled Gillian. “When I kill people, I prefer them to stay dead. Tidier that way.”
“Supposedly, Castle Midnight used to be lousy with ghosts,” said Catherine. “Back in the day, I mean. When I was younger, I felt cheated they’d all disappeared, back before I was born. When Good King Viktor banished the Unreal . . . No, don’t ask. It’s a very long story, and we really don’t have the time.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Richard said firmly. He gave his full attention to Bertram, who smiled and preened before the Prince, in a not entirely subservient way. Richard put on his most serious voice. “War has come, Armourer. We need to see the old weapons. The ones that matter.”
“Of course you do, your highness,” Bertram said happily. “I did sort of get that, the moment you turned up. So many important people, all at once? Quite made my day! Don’t get many visitors . . . I think that’s why your father put me in charge here, Prince Richard. To put people off . . . And because I was the only one who wanted the job. I’m sure that helped. What is it you were looking for, gents and ladies? Exactly?”
“I’m pretty sure it comes under the heading of We’ll Know It When We See It,” said Hawk.
Bertram nodded his head doubtfully. “Yes . . . Or, more probably, no . . .”
Hawk looked past the Armourer, down the long hall stretching off into an unknown distance. “From what I remember of this place, the really powerful weapons were always kept tucked safely away in hidden little niches and corners. And the weapons tended to choose their own masters, rather than the other way round. Does that sound familiar, Armourer? Good. Lead the way.”
Bertram set off, back into the shadows, without waiting for Prince Richard to tell him it was all right. Like many people, he tended to react to the authority in Hawk’s voice. The Prince glared at Bertram’s retreating back, and then at Hawk’s and Gillian’s backs, as they immediately followed after Bertram. Catherine put her arm through Richard’s, and pressed it firmly to her side, just to show him he wasn’t alone. And then they brought up the rear.
Once In a Blue Moon Page 50