Eight Kings (The King's Watch Book 6)

by Mark Hayden

  ‘Conrad! What are you doing?’

  ‘That’s Augusta Faulkner. Over there in the robes with gold edging. And she’s coming this way.’

  ‘It looks like all your ghosts are coming to haunt you,’ said Mina.

  ‘My daughter is not a ghost,’ said Faulkner. By Odin’s eye, she must have superb hearing. We’ve met once before, when she served me coffee at Lunar Hall.

  Augusta Faulkner was a member of the congregation of the Lunar Sisters, and her mother was then the First Sister. Augusta’s daughter, Keira, had been at the heart of my first magickal experience – saving the Thirteenth Witch.

  ‘Could I have a word in private?’ said Faulkner.

  ‘Tell me later,’ said Mina. ‘I need the ladies room.’

  We stepped aside, taking an empty corner. ‘I thought you’d retired from the law,’ I said.

  ‘My retirement plans didn’t work out quite the way I envisaged,’ she responded, trying to maintain the dignity of the courtroom. Stuff that.

  ‘Would those plans have changed because your daughter betrayed you and got you kicked out of Lunar Hall?’

  Her lips pressed hard together as she bit back her first response. Augusta Faulkner had a reputation as the best defence lawyer on the magickal circuit. Iain Drummond had opened a very old bottle of single malt the day she hung up her wig.

  She composed herself. ‘I’m here to represent Irina Ispabudhan. It’s a fascinating case, but that’s not the reason I took it. I wanted to talk to you. On neutral ground.’

  The Merlyn’s Tower team were watching us closely. I made sure that Faulkner had seen me make eye contact with them. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Keira wants to come home.’

  ‘You were her counsel. It was your job to explain the implications of lifetime exile. Especially the bit about “life”.’

  ‘Don’t, Mr Clarke. Tormenting me won’t make any difference. Yes, I’ve seen Deborah Sayer’s sister, and Mother Julia’s missing arm. You can’t add to my pain by rubbing in my failings as a mother. And as a daughter. I can’t hurt any more than I do already.’

  She had a point. I could snipe all I wanted, but it wouldn’t make anything better. There was one thing missing, though. ‘Anna. Have you been to see her, by any chance?’

  She looked away. ‘Keira didn’t kill Lika. I thought you accepted that.’

  ‘I accepted that it couldn’t be proved in court, which is a different matter. Even you won’t deny that Lika would still be alive if you hadn’t let Deborah Sayer and Keira into Lunar Hall. Will you?’

  She shook her head. She was on the verge of tears.

  I thought of my mother, and of what she’d do if Rachael or I were in trouble. I tried to soften my tone. ‘I hate to say this to a top QC, Ms Faulkner, but it’s not up to me, is it? It’s up to the court.’

  ‘If Keira does two years in France, she can petition the Cloister Court for return. The Court will listen to you. If you can find it in yourself to forgive her, she might have a chance.’

  ‘I’m not a Christian. I don’t do forgiveness.’

  She tried – and failed – to hide a look of disdain. ‘I had thought better of you, Mr Clarke. For some reason, the Goddess chose you, of all people, to carry my mother’s body to its final rest. The Goddess does not do that without reason.’

  ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, I just said that there would have to be restitution first.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Start today. Go easy on Mina in the Flint Hoard hearing.’

  ‘Irina is my client. She’s entitled to the best service I can give.’

  Her answer told me everything I needed to know: Irina had instructed her barrister to go for Mina’s throat. ‘Then convince her that you have a better strategy. Going for Mina won’t endear you to the judge.’

  She grimaced. ‘Reluctantly, I agree with you. That’s only the start, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Visit Anna. Pay the blood price for Lika.’

  She nodded, bracing herself for more.

  ‘And if your daughter really wants to come home, she’ll find and deliver Adaryn ap Owain. Tell her to start looking in Brittany.’

  ‘That is a heavy, heavy price, Mr Clarke.’

  ‘If Keira has reformed, she’ll want to bring a fugitive to justice, won’t she? Here’s my card. Tell her to get in touch when the blood price has been settled.’

  The doors banged open again. ‘The Court of the Queen’s Cloister is now in open session,’ boomed Stephanie. ‘All parties in the case of Irina Ispabudhan should enter.’

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ hissed Hannah as we walked into court.

  ‘Tell you later.’

  The empty space in front of the bench was now filled with lecterns, and a TV screen had been mounted on a trolley.

  We took our places on the Crown side of the court while Annelise and Augusta Faulkner took a lectern each. ‘All rise,’ said Stephanie, looking at us with a half grin.

  The Honourable Mrs Justice Bracewell was almost unrecognisable in her scarlet robes and full length wig. Even the glasses were different.

  ‘That shade suits her better,’ said Mina.

  ‘The robes?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ said Hannah. ‘The lipstick.’

  Oh.

  The judge took her place on the bench, and two new figures, both male and gowned, appeared. One sat in front of the judge; her clerk, presumably. The other fiddled with the TV. In a miracle of modern technology, it worked first time.

  Irina Ispabudhan was at the centre of my most recent case, a gruelling hunt for a trio of magickal money-launderers and counterfeiters. Two of the three were now dead, and Irina was seriously injured. We could see her chained to a hospital bed with enchanted handcuffs. Her right knee was in a serious medical brace, hence the video link. This was only a remand hearing and not scheduled to take long.

  ‘Are you Irina Ispabudhan?’ asked the clerk.

  ‘Irina Rybakova. I have taken my husband’s name to honour his memory.’

  ‘Noted.’

  The clerk read out the full list of charges and sat down. There was a bit of discussion about the terms of her remand, and then the judge made the order. With a bang of the gavel, she dismissed the prisoner and the video screen was wheeled away from centre stage. It was left switched on because Irina had an interest in the next case.

  ‘Moving on,’ said the judge. ‘Bring in the parties to …’ She hesitated. ‘I know you’re all calling it the Flint Hoard, and that’s as good a name as any. Let’s go with that.’

  Mina took a deep breath. This was her big show, or it would be when I’d finished the warm-up act. But first, we needed an audience.

  A small crowd of lawyers and their clients made an entrance. I recognised one of the clients – Saunders, Chief of Clan Flint. He is a repellent little Gnome who would be quite happy if I died. The feeling is mutual. They took their places, lawyers under the glass and clients behind the columns, and the clerk asked a nervous Annelise van Kampen to begin.

  She cleared her throat. ‘My Lady, the matter before the court is a considerable one: a large quantity of Alchemical gold. Our suit concerns the ownership of this gold, but first I would like to establish its existence.’

  ‘A good place to start,’ said the judge.

  Annelise held her nerve. ‘Thank you, My Lady. I would like to call Watch Captain Clarke.’

  I emerged from the shadows and stood before the bench, turning my body so that Irina couldn’t see my face on her monitor. ‘I call upon Odin to witness that the evidence I shall give …’ No going back now. Unlike other witnesses, I literally couldn’t lie on oath.

  I could, but it would be the last thing I did.

  Annelise took me through the discovery of the gold in the First Mine of Clan Flint, and the fact that I’d weighed it and counted it, all 440,000 Troy Ounces of enhanced Alchemical Gold.

  ‘Does anyone have any questions for the Watch Captain?’ said the judge.r />
  A short barrister, clearly another Gnome, spoke up. ‘Quintus Octavius, acting for Clan Flint, My Lady. My client does not dispute Mr Clarke’s evidence – as far as it goes. We reserve the right to recall him if necessary.’

  ‘Noted,’ said the judge. ‘Thank you, Watch Captain.’

  I returned to my seat, and it was Hannah who patted my hand and said, ‘Well done.’ Mina was staring at the spot I’d vacated and saying something under her breath. A prayer in Sanskrit, I think.

  The judge wrote something down and held up the paper. ‘This court recognises the existence of the Hoard. We now move on to the question of ownership, to which there are many parties. Knowing this, the court appointed its own auditor, Ms Desai, and I would like to hear her evidence as to how the gold got to the First Mine. Ms Desai?’

  Mina jumped up and straightened her jacket. She tossed back her hair and walked across the open space. Unlike me, she stared at the monitor. Mina is the reason that Irina is in a hospital bed. Irina looked away first.

  Mina took the oath on a copy of the Mahabharata and looked at her papers. With great care, she said, ‘My Lady, may I submit my report, Document One in the bundle?’

  And that was it: she was up and running. My heart swelled as she started to give evidence. This was all her work, and she was as proud of her spreadsheet as I was of my Military Cross.

  I sat there, grinning like a teenager watching his girlfriend on stage, even after she lost me, so about thirty seconds then. I have many skills, but double entry accounting is not one of them. After two refills from the water jug, she got to the end and bowed to the bench.

  ‘Thank you, Ms Desai,’ said the judge. ‘I have a note that Mrs Rybakova wishes to object to this evidence.’

  Augusta Faulkner shook her head. ‘No longer, my lady.’

  ‘Good. Mr Octavius?’

  The Gnome was caught flatfooted by Augusta’s capitulation and hummed for a moment before beginning. ‘Clan Flint objects to the appointment of Ms Desai on the grounds of conflict of interest. Her association with the King’s Watch is well known.’

  Mina dropped her head and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She knew this was coming, and putting up with it was a price she had to pay.

  Annelise spoke up. ‘My Lady, the Watch is not a party to this suit. I am acting for the Crown, not the Constable.’

  ‘I agree,’ said the judge. ‘Ms Desai’s evidence stands.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Annelise, ‘as none of us has seen the document before, we would like an adjournment to prepare for a full hearing at a later date.’

  ‘Does anyone object?’

  Octavius spoke first. ‘We agree with the adjournment, but this gold must be stored and guarded. We submit that Clan Flint should be paid a fee.’

  ‘I concur. That seems reasonable. You’ll also have to replace it if it gets stolen. Anyone else?’

  No less than six barristers got up to agree, just to ensure that their clients had to pay them a court fee, a point that was not lost on the judge.

  ‘I am not going to let the Flint Hoard turn into Jarndyce and Jarndyce,’ she announced. ‘There will be a full hearing beginning Monday the fifth of October. Now, I don’t know about the Crown, but I’m ready for a break. We’ll take forty-five minutes before the next case.’

  ‘All rise.’

  5 — Meet the Mowbrays

  Mina’s shoulders slumped when the judge had disappeared. I was limping across the court towards her before Annelise had even picked up her papers.

  ‘You were brilliant, love,’ I said, taking her in my arms. I earned a sniff from Annelise and scowl from Saunders for my pains.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ said Hannah. ‘I’ve got another present. This way.’

  The north side of the court had cleared, and I could see two doors, both closed. Hannah pointed to the right hand, more substantial door. ‘That one goes down and along to the Undercroft, and only the Bailiffs can open it. Anyone who’s drunk from Nimue’s hand can open the other one. It’s one of the few doors like that in the kingdom. Try it, Conrad.’

  I did, and felt the tingle of magick. I pushed and had to push again. Behind the door, a steep staircase led up. ‘After you,’ said Hannah.

  The top of the staircase had no door, and emerged into an exquisite courtyard garden. Most of the area was taken up with the glass roof of the Old Temple, but in the margins exotic plants flourished, sheltered by the high walls and obviously well cared for. This is where Myfanwy had been allowed for one hour a day to get relief from the Limbo Chambers in the Undercroft.

  There were no doors in the garden walls. The only access was from below, though I did see another staircase to the east. A small shed nestled in the shady spot. ‘There’s a bench over there,’ said Hannah, ‘and you can smoke, Conrad. I’ll be back shortly.’

  Mina sank on to the bench, and I lit up. She leaned back and let the sun warm her face. ‘I am dreading the fifth of October. That’s when they get to cross-examine me. This was only the start.’

  ‘You were brilliant. I think. I loved the bit where you said that polar bears are not native to East Anglia.’

  ‘Did I say that? Really?’

  ‘Yes. At least three of the barristers nodded in agreement.’

  ‘I can’t wait to read the transcript. I’ve no idea what I said at some points.’

  Hannah reappeared, with Annelise and Drummond. Stephanie brought up the rear. Between them, they had flasks, cups and pastries. I was starving.

  The Boss wanted to know what I’d said to Augusta Faulkner. When I’d told them, she blew out her cheeks. ‘You know, technically it’s none of my business. You weren’t in the Watch during the Battle of Lunar Hall.’

  ‘I know, ma’am, but I’d have said the same if it was a Watch matter.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘Not without checking with Iain, first. Understand? As it happens, I agree with what you said. If Keira can deliver Adaryn, I wouldn’t object to a reduced sentence.’

  ‘Time,’ said Stephanie. ‘Bring the tray, Conrad.’

  I followed her down the second staircase and entered the Wardroom, a small but comfortable space. ‘Leave it by the sink,’ said Stephanie. ‘You don’t need magick to get out into the lobby, only to get in.’ I waited for the others to catch up and opened the door.

  The lobby was full, a sea of colour, of women and of talk. One man in a black suit stood out, like a rock protruding from the waves.

  Mina pushed me aside and said, ‘Now that is a crowd I wouldn’t want to face. All those women. All that colour. Who are they?’

  ‘The Daughters of the Goddess, in full fig,’ said Hannah.

  ‘Fig?’ said Mina.

  ‘Ja?’ echoed Annelise.

  ‘A Salomon’s House term,’ said Drummond. ‘It suggests that the sacred robes of the Daughters are akin to fancy dress.’ He looked pointedly at my uniform. ‘We would never do that, would we? Or wear wigs.’

  They both had a point. Underground, here, the flowing robes and hoods did look out of place, but they wore them naturally, comfortably and totally unselfconsciously.

  Now I’d had time to adjust, I felt the air warming, not with heat but Lux, and the collective magick had made the crowd seem a lot bigger than it actually was. The bolder, brighter colours were mostly worn by the older women, the younger ones favouring lighter pastels. A couple even had their legs on show. All of these women were Mages, yes, but because they’d learnt their magick in the circle and not at Salomon’s house, they are normally known as Witches.

  ‘Axe coming through,’ said Stephanie.

  I jumped out of the way as she passed, and for the third time she opened the doors. As we streamed in to the court, one woman in a regular, high street stretch dress and leggings stayed seated, checking her phone with one hand and stroking her small baby bump with the other. Her head was down, so I couldn’t be sure, but she looked strangely familiar.

  We all took our places and Stephanie put the
axe in its socket by the bench. She picked up a folded cloth. ‘Conrad, can you give me a hand You’re much taller than the clerks, and I’ve got no chance.’

  ‘Of course. What do you want?’

  ‘I need to get this over the royal arms, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.’

  I took one end of the black cloth. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a sign of mourning and that this court is not the Cloister Court. It’s the staff court of Wessex.’

  ‘Oh. That makes no sense.’

  We got the fabric in place, and I retreated as the clerks appeared, followed by the judge, in her third outfit of the day – her own, black, version of the Daughters’ robes, with the hood pulled up over her now loose hair.

  Instead of saying All rise, Stephanie read from a card. ‘The Staff King of Wessex is dead. Let us pray for his soul.’

  We joined in to make a circle, and the black-suited man called on all the gods not to stand in the way of Harold Mowbray on his journey to the next life.

  ‘So mote it be,’ we echoed.

  ‘The king is dead,’ said Judge Bracewell. ‘Who would address the Staff Court of Wessex?’

  The young man who’d led the prayers stepped into the circle. His black suit was impeccably tailored to show off his shoulders, and the only colour in his outfit was a blue tie that echoed his eyes. Even his curly hair was black.

  ‘Is it me or is it hot in here?’ said Mina.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ whispered Hannah, ‘but he’s definitely hot.’

  ‘Ja, for certain,’ added Annelise.

  Three professional women, all achievers, and they couldn’t take their eyes off the prime Cornish beef. I offer no observations at this point; I am simply stating a fact.

  The whispered exchange had attracted the attention of a woman to the man’s right. I’d missed her before, as she was slightly shorter than the Daughters and much, much shorter than the man. I knew she wasn’t one of the Daughters because she was in black, modern dress and had her hair cut short and spiked. All the Witches wore their (long) hair plaited into the three-strand Goddess braid.

  The woman stared at us, and it was obvious, even to me, that she was closely related to the man, and a couple of years older, about thirty. She wore a much cheaper suit, the jacket buttons straining over her thin white shirt and the trousers clinging to her hips but shapeless lower down. The only colour was a silk band at her throat that appeared to have been cut from the same cloth as the man’s tie. A poor relation? She’d obviously spent longer on her eyeshadow than on buying her clothes.