Eight Kings (The King's Watch Book 6)

by Mark Hayden

  ‘And me. Same again tomorrow?’

  ‘Do any of the Daughters want to join us?’

  ‘You must be joking. That’s too much like fun for them.’

  I sipped my drink. Lena was right, once the chill was off, it wasn’t wonderful. ‘Was it really so tedious in there?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s so slooooow! Every time they wanted to discuss something, they insist on going into conclave. I had to download a new game to stop me going mad. Ethan’s told me not to say anything at all about the talks, so don’t ask. How’s Scout?’

  ‘He detected a Ward on Lord Mowbray’s study, and I felt it.’

  The petulant overgrown teenager was gone in a blink. ‘That’s excellent. That’s about what I’d expect for his age. Try to go to more places with magick and explore together before he matures completely. You haven’t got long.’ She tipped her wine over the balustrade on to the path below. ‘Get us a beer, would you?’

  I swapped our glasses for two bottles of Mowbray’s Kernow Blonde. Their beer is a lot better than their wine. I gave Eseld her beer and a cigarette. Once we’d lit up, I knew that no one would approach us.

  I stared at Isolde’s back. She was talking to Cador and had deliberately turned away from Eseld. It was time to stir the pot. ‘What did she do that was so bad?’

  The pot refused to be stirred. ‘Why? Does it upset you that a daughter won’t speak to her mother?’

  ‘I was in the chopper while you humiliated her this morning. It’s upset Mina and Saffron. I can’t speak for anyone else.’

  ‘They’ll get over it and no one else cares. Are you riding tomorrow or not?’

  ‘It’ll wake me up.’

  ‘See you at six-thirty, then. Thanks for the smoke.’

  She picked the right moment to detach Saffron from Síona and took my partner away from the crowd. I took her place and asked Síona whether she wanted another drink.

  ‘You’ve switched to beer. Wise man. I’ll take anything except that gnat’s piss they call wine.’

  And Hannah said she found Síona a bit ascetic????

  I fetched her a Pimm’s and took a grateful swallow. Close up, I could see that Síona was both older and younger than I’d thought. Older in that she had done absolutely nothing to hide the ageing process: no makeup, no hair colour, no nail polish. Younger in that she really was younger than I’d thought. No more than sixty, I reckon. When she turned to the side, I got a glint in her eye. Aah. Contact lenses.

  I remembered Michael’s comment about Witches’ hearing and lowered my voice. ‘Saffron spoke to the Constable this afternoon. She seemed happy enough with your progress.’

  She blinked. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

  I said nothing.

  She sighed. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘To us, yes, but not to the Mowbrays. They have no idea. Neither do Isolde or Cordelia.’

  ‘Good. Let’s change the subject.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to Eseld and her mother?’

  ‘No, and no one’s talking about it, either. I know it was something to do with Raven, because Hedda was thinking about chucking her out.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. One of my roles is to listen to the Eldest. I have no stake in Glastonbury politics, so it’s good for her to have a sounding board outside the Homewood. I hadn’t been in the role long when she said that Raven had been involved in something. She wouldn’t tell me the details and she decided to take no action. Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?’

  ‘You can ask…’

  ‘About that Dragon.’

  So, not personal at all. Having given a seminar on Dragonslaying, I couldn’t refuse now, could I? She did seem genuinely interested and it wasn’t just to change the subject.

  Síona was standing quite close to the sliding doors that led to the dining room, and while I was telling my tale, I could see movement inside. Ethan and Lena appeared to be having a domestic of some sort, standing either side of the dining table. No one else could see it and no one could hear them. It ended when Lena gave a monumental shrug, lifting her arms in surrender. She swapped two place cards and came out to announce that dinner was ready.

  I’d made a mental note of the places she’d exchanged, and the net result of her work was that Eseld ended up next to Cordelia instead of Saffron. What was that all about?

  If you’ve wondered what Witches eat, particularly the Daughters, the answer is anything sustainable. Very few Mages are vegetarians, for some reason. Way below the mundane population. When it comes to Witches and Warlocks, they often insist on sustainable, organic produce, and tonight’s feast was almost all from the Mowbray farms or locally caught fish. There was a distinct Austrian flavour to the meal and it was all placed on the table for us to help ourselves.

  I’ve told you that because you might be interested, and it puts off me having to tell you who Lena had placed me next to.

  It was Raven.

  And she was charming. Every time I asked her something about herself, or the Daughters, she neatly deflected me and asked something about helicopters, or Scout, or the RAF or anything. The only topic she opened up about was Spain. Yes, really. She’d done an exchange with a coven in Catalonia when she was younger and waxed lyrical about Spanish food, the climate and lifestyle.

  No one lingered over coffee and I soon found myself down on the dock with Scout and Mina. At the last minute, Saffron had attached herself to us. I waited until we were leaning on the rail and said, ‘What’s up, Saff?’

  ‘Eseld hit on me before dinner.’

  ‘Nooo!’ said Mina. ‘I got that one wrong.’

  ‘Did you say anything?’ I said.

  ‘Course not! Why?’

  ‘Because Ethan made Lena swap the places. You were originally supposed to be next to her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Mina. She said it to Saff, not me.

  ‘I know when I’m being hit on, thank you very much. No one’s run their hand down my waist like that in a long time, and she wasn’t checking out my magickal potential.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I squeezed one of the pressure points on her wrist. She got the message.’

  We swapped notes on the evening. They were both intrigued by the thought that Raven was involved in Eseld’s sudden departure from Glastonbury. Mina was furious about what Eseld had said about her mother, and there wasn’t a lot else. I think the principals in the negotiations were too tired to gossip much, but Saffron did have a couple of tidbits.

  ‘I heard Alys talking to Isolde at one point. They were discussing who would go to the Election in Old Sarum and who would go to the celebration banquet afterwards. They had no idea I was listening.’

  ‘So they expect to strike a deal. I’m glad I only had one beer. Let’s go to bed. Some of us have to be up very early.’

  Saffron stiffened. ‘You’re not going riding again, are you?’

  ‘Yes. I enjoy it.’

  ‘Will you say anything to Eseld?’

  ‘No. You can look after yourself. I would like to know if she tries again, though.’

  She nodded and I whistled softly to summon Scout.

  Mina heard me return to the King’s Watch suite the next morning and appeared from our room. Saffron was already lounging on the sofa, looking hungry.

  ‘Is your virtue intact?’ said Mina. ‘No attempts to seduce you in the loose box?’

  There hadn’t been, as it happened, so I didn’t have to lie or look embarrassed. ‘No. She was the model Mage this morning, and arranged some exercises to test Scout’s ability to spot Wards and Glamours, and for me to sense that he’d spotted them.’ I started moving equipment around. ‘It was quite sad at the end. She said how much she was looking forward to us meeting her father, like we were her new best friends.’

  Mina shook her head. ‘I wonder how many men or women she’s met who treat her like a normal human being. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s four
years older than me and not Saffron’s age.’

  ‘Oy!’ said Saffron. ‘I am here you know. Why is breakfast in the dining room today?’

  I finished putting my stuff together and answered her question. ‘Lena thought, quite rightly, that it would be very bad form for the Watch to eat with the family, so we’re all in it together. It’s good to mingle.’

  And mingle we did. Up to a point. I noticed that Brook and Cador were eating together and that they’d chosen a distant corner of the vast space to do it in.

  ‘Looks promising,’ I said to Cordelia.

  ‘Mmm. Don’t go for a long walk this morning. I think you could be in business.’

  She was right. At half past ten, (metaphorical) white smoke appeared and the doors were opened. The Daughters and the Mowbrays had reached an agreement. It was time to collect the VIPs, starting with our absent host.

  18 — Lord of All he Surveys

  Most people who visit the Isles of Scilly begin their journey at Land’s End Airport. I’ve never been before, and when I looked it up I was quite impressed. Two runways. Don’t often get that. But we weren’t heading for the runways.

  I took the Smurf along the coast so that Saffron (and I) could see Land’s End from the air. ‘Is that it?’ she said when I told her to look for the car park. For such a famous landmark, it’s otherwise very hard to spot.

  ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘I dunno. Something bigger and pointier.’

  ‘Tough crowd. I’m going to make a tight turn. When we’re heading south west, you can contact ATC for landing.’

  Saffron is very keen to learn. She has the radio off pat now, and she’s also asking questions about what some of the instruments mean. She even has a sixth sense about when not to speak. She got us clearance to land at one of the off-runway zones, and I took the Smurf down to a spot close to an access road and well away from the terminal building.

  A black Range Rover bumped through a gate and pulled up as we got out of the chopper. ‘It’s not blue,’ said Saffron. ‘This is a first.’

  ‘Check out the rear bumper. It has a boar’s head sticker, along with a black and white Kernow badge.’

  She peered. ‘Can you really see that from here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We walked over and a woman with a runner’s physique got out of the driver’s side, somewhere between me and my mother in age. She was wearing black trousers, black trainers and a blue blouse with the boar’s head on her left breast. Her hair was black with grey streaks, worn short and styled. She’s been driving the Mowbrays around for many years, going ahead of them to various jobs while they take the chopper.

  She gave us a big smile. ‘You must be Mr Clarke and Miss Hawkins.’

  I shook hands. ‘Either that or we’ve just stolen Lord Mowbray’s helicopter. How d’you do.’

  She looked alarmed and peered at the Smurf in case it cried for help after being kidnapped. ‘Sorry. I’m Maggie Pearce. I’m afraid there’s a bit of a flap on. Kenver has gone missing.’ She saw the alarm in my eyes. ‘Oh no, he’s alright, but he’s not where he should be. If you see what I mean. No, you don’t. Could you get in the car and I’ll take you to Lord Mowbray?’

  It was the biggest model of Range Rover, with seven seats. Saff and I strapped ourselves in and Maggie drove off the airfield. Behind us, an automatic barrier rose back in place. ‘Lord Mowbray had to pay for that himself,’ she said.

  She drove with meticulous precision around the perimeter of the airfield, always at 95% of the speed limit or less, and pulled up next to the offices of a very small airline. ‘Lord Mowbray’s in the conference room. Could you come with me, Miss Hawkins? We need to collect the others. I’m afraid that things are all at sixes and sevens this morning.’

  Saff and I looked at each other. Clearly Mowbray wanted a word with me on my own. She nodded to show she’d got the same message, and I jumped out.

  There was no one on duty outside the conference room, so I knocked and entered.

  My first thought was so that’s where she gets it from. Arthur, Lord Mowbray of Pellacombe, was wearing a black frock coat over a black and white waistcoat. It didn’t have the eighteenth century flair of Eseld’s outfits, but it was definitely the mark of someone who wants to be noticed. He stood up and came to shake hands.

  Underneath the outfit, he was wiry, strong and had the piercing blue eyes he’d passed to his children. His hair was all grey and cut so short that he’d get in the US Army with no problem. Years of outdoor living had lined his face and if they were casting for a film about the Peninsular War, he’d be a shoo-in for a battle-hardened British officer who’d fought his way through Spain.

  ‘Clarke. Good to meet you,’ he said. His words were clipped, the Cornish r in Clarke was unmissable. Eseld had it, too, but not Cador. He probably left it in his rooms at Cambridge. ‘Sorry about the mess this morning. Coffee?’

  ‘Please. What’s happened?’

  He poured coffee from a flask and we sat down. When he spoke, he looked at the window. ‘My boy Kenver went out last night and never came back. Didn’t know until this morning. Cue panic. Then he texts to say he’ll get to Pellacombe under his own steam if there’s a deal done.’ He turned his coffee cup round and looked at me properly.

  ‘Are you worried?’

  ‘No. It was his text all right. We have a code that only he and I know, and he’s not in danger. Kerenza insisted on staying at Nanquidno in case he turned up. It’s not far, so they won’t be long. If she’s finished packing.’

  He sat back. ‘Wanted to thank you properly for all this, Clarke. What you’ve done means a lot down here.’

  ‘It’s been fascinating, sir. We’ve enjoyed it.’

  ‘No need for the sir. Eseld tells me you’re a Geomancer like me.’

  ‘In that same way that I also play cricket but I wouldn’t say that to the England captain. I know my limits. I also know Chris Kelly.’

  ‘Good man, Chris. Kenver’s going to study with him in the autumn.’

  I made sure he was looking at me before I said, ‘And did you know Isaac Fisher, aka Ivan Rybakov?’

  ‘Yes. By reputation, of course, but we didn’t move in the same circles. I’ve heard you’ve got a problem with the Fae.’

  We have. One of the reasons I’ve enjoyed this jaunt is that it has no connection with our search for the Codex Defanatus, a book full of powerful, old magick. It’s on the loose, and some of it had come into Isaac Fisher’s possession, with fatal consequences for several people, including him. At the source of this poisonous well is a Fae Prince.

  ‘How did you hear that?’ I said.

  ‘My uncle was approached, many years ago, by an intermediary trying to sell some of the things that have turned up recently. Helen of Troy. The Lions of Carthage. They must have come from the same place. I was still on the way up in those days. They didn’t approach me, and my uncle said no to them.’

  ‘That’s the late Earl of Tintagel?’

  ‘He’s the only Mage uncle I’ve got. Or had.’ We were leaning closer to each other. Just a fraction. ‘I ain’t a Clarke. My word isn’t binding unto death, like yours is, but I promise you on the stones of Pellacombe that I had nothing to do with it and that the Earl never told me who it was who approached him.’

  I nodded to show that I accepted his word. ‘Do you know of anyone else who was approached?’

  ‘No. This is bad, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. We think it will get worse.’

  He rubbed his face. ‘I’m telling you this now because I wanted to see you in action first. What I reckon is that the Fae didn’t approach the really big players at the time, just the ones who were willing to take risks to get ahead. I know a few people he might have gone to. Now that I know for certain there’s a problem, I’ll ask a few questions.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be useful. It could also be dangerous.’

  ‘Not as dangerous as a Dragon. It’s the least that I can do.’


  ‘Then thank you again.’

  ‘I also hear you’re a smoker. Shall we take a refill into the sunshine and wait?’

  ‘Suits me.’

  When we got outside, he said, ‘I know you won’t tell me anything about the Daughters, but how did Team Pellacombe get on?’

  ‘Like a well-oiled machine. I’m sure you knew they would.’

  ‘Even Eseld?’

  ‘What do you want me to say? We’ve only just met.’

  He nodded. ‘You’re right. It’s not fair to drag you into my family’s problems. I tried to tell Isolde not to come, but she’s still as stubborn as she always was. That’s where Eseld gets it from. I could have told my ex that there wouldn’t be a happy reunion.’

  I’m guessing that Eseld gets her stubbornness from her father more than her mother, but it’s not for me to say. And having refused to get drawn in, I couldn’t very well ask what had happened all those years ago. Mina would have handled this conversation a lot better than I did. Sorry, but there you go.

  ‘Thank you for the loan of Evenstar. She’s a superb mare.’

  ‘Pleasure. I don’t get to ride as much as I’d like. More’s the pity. I’m looking forward to meeting the Peculier Auditor. She’s made quite an impression.’

  ‘Is that because she’s young? Short? Indian? Mundane?’

  He laughed. ‘All of the above. Plus she said that Cornwall is too hilly for cricket. Anyone who can say that and get away with it must have something.’

  ‘She certainly has something.’

  ‘She also has the new Seal of Wessex. Cost me a fortune that, and I may not get my money back.’

  ‘I thought it was the seal of the Cloister Court.’

  He shook his head. ‘It is at the moment. The new staff king will then have to pay to get the head changed. The magick is all in the body.’ He looked around. ‘Where are they? Even Maggie couldn’t take this long.’

  ‘Shall I call Saffron?’

  ‘No. Here they come.’

  The Range Rover drew up. Behind it was a smaller 4x4. ‘Who’s that?’ I said.

  ‘It’s not a who, it’s a what. That’s the luggage. Kerenza doesn’t travel light.’