But even so, the healing took time and Denoriel did not feel that he could afford that time. He fought her spells—injuring himself further—so he could visit FitzRoy to be sure the boy was safe, to be sure the kitten had not lost interest and flitted away.
Exasperated, Mwynwen bespelled his anxiety to subside. It was stupid, she thought, for him to delay his recovery by constant fear. If the air spirit brought word that Denoriel was needed, she would break the spell. Until then, she would keep him with her.
They enjoyed each other's company . . . yet it was not the same as it had been between them before Denoriel had taken on his mission to the mortal world. He found that the light gossip about dress and changing relationships within the Elfhame, the news of minor outrages committed by the Unseleighe and the plans to punish and prevent further mischief, no longer had the power to bind his attention. Despite Mwynwen's spell, although with lesser intensity, he worried about Harry and longed to hold the child again.
Although Mwynwen warned him even more straitly than Aleneil of the danger of caring for a mortal, she could not resist listening hungrily to his descriptions of the boy. She even shared his anxiety about keeping FitzRoy safe and suggested warding spells he could use. However, it was only the child that interested her, and nothing else in the world of mortals. Beyond asking Denoriel to be sure to record any healing spell he came across, Mwynwen found the doings of humans coarse and dull.
But even Denoriel's delight in Mwynwen could not now diminish his interest in life in the mortal world. At first what he had done had only been to give verisimilitude to his cover story about a great trading empire. Thus, he had purchased a ship and trade goods through his connection with Elfhame Csetate-Boli. Through Elfhame Melusine, he had hired factors in France. In England, he had personally hired factors, sold a cargo, considered what new cargo to purchase for trade through connections he was making with Elfhames near Persia and India where rugs and tapestries such as he had discussed with Norfolk were made. He was immersing himself more and more in the affairs of mortal men.
And so, inevitably it seemed, distance began to come between Denoriel and Mwynwen—not a coolness; they were still fond, the union of their bodies still brought joy to each, but neither was so absorbed in the other as he and she had been in the past. And one day, Mwynwen did not protest when Denoriel said he must go and visit Harry. Partly that was because she had done all she could and Denoriel was almost totally recovered, but partly it was because she felt just the faintest shade of relief to hear no more about Overhill and be alone in her house again.
Before he left, Mwynwen warned Denoriel that his fear about the use of Overhill magic had been correct. He could use it, but he would suffer for it, and the more he used it, the longer and more uncertain his healing would be. At best he would be in considerable pain for a long time—at worst he would burn out his power channels and be dead to magic, even Underhill—perhaps he would even be reduced to a mortal.
Even so, just before he turned to go out the door to mount Miralys, who was waiting, she put a hand on his arm and bade him bring her news of FitzRoy—so sweet a child, she said, longing in her eyes, for with all her lovers and all her healing powers she had never conceived. Then she broke the spell that had dulled Denoriel's fear.
Terror seized him again and anger too as he realized what she had done. Denoriel hardly thanked her for her care. He was free of physical pain and able to use magic again without agony, but his anxiety for FitzRoy tightened his throat and knotted his gut. He remembered that he had checked on the spirit of the air, but had he checked often enough? Had some Unseleighe Sidhe deflected or even destroyed the white kitten? There was no time Underhill. Had the boy felt he was forgotten? How long had he been under Mwynwen's care?
CHAPTER 10
All that anxiety, all that terror, and nothing at all had happened! In its abbreviated manner, the kitten reported that there had been no manifestations of Unseleighe magic in the palace or the grounds and no Sidhe had paid any visit in any guise.
To Denoriel's horror, that news only intensified his fear. It was impossible that human questioning had rendered the men who attacked Harry mindless and dead without a single mark on their bodies. That was Sidhe work. Unless he was mad, Harry was somehow the target of that work.
He was relieved when he found that only a bit over two weeks had passed in mortal days. And he calmed down when it finally occurred to him that a really good simulacrum was just not that easy to make. Possibly the changeling was not yet ready, and that was why the kitten had nothing to report.
Fortunately, he was still persona gratia with the guards, officials, and servants of Windsor, and he had no trouble being admitted to visit. Harry was delighted to see him, but not resentful or forlorn at Lord Denno's extended absence, because the child had been distracted by the preparations for going north, which were now in full swing. The boy was perfectly willing to accept Denoriel's excuse that he, too, had been making preparations so that he could accompany the cortege. Harry jumped up and down with joy.
Since Norfolk continued to be absent on some other duty, Denoriel took the liberty of coming to visit FitzRoy every day. He had been nervously sure that the child was being watched by someone from the Unseleighe Court, although he could not get the faintest hint of any dark creature—nor could the white kitten. Still, the time for completing the most elaborate simulacrum was surely over and Denoriel hourly expected some new move on the part of the minions of Vidal Dhu.
After a few more days, Denoriel began to suspect that Pasgen—or whoever was assigned to try to seize FitzRoy—was prepared to wait for him to give up his watchfulness. In an attempt to trigger an attempt on the child while he was alert for it, Denoriel explained to FitzRoy that a ship (not The Nereid) had come in and he had to be away for a few days. He rode off to London, Gated back, shielded his magic and himself, and waited. And still nothing happened.
Did the Unseleighe believe that it would be easier to make the exchange of children during the confusion of the journey north? That really raised a problem and made it essential that Denoriel accompany the cortege and be in close attendance on the child. For that, he would need to obtain Norfolk's permission.
The duke was still absent, but Denoriel had heard that he would return to Windsor after the twenty-second of July, when FitzRoy would receive a commission as Warden General of Scotland. Norfolk would then examine the preparations for travel, probably the Privy Council that would actually govern in FitzRoy's name would gather, and within a week FitzRoy would go north to Sheriff Hutton. Until they left, it would be impossible for Denoriel to spend much time with FitzRoy. The duke disliked any suggestion of FitzRoy's steadily increasing attachment to a foreigner; if he knew the truth of things, Denoriel would never be allowed near FitzRoy again.
Denoriel set about laying a fog of misinformation around himself. He made his visits briefer and openly arrived in the late afternoon so he could seem to go somewhere else in the early evening. Actually he came soon about the time FitzRoy ate his nuncheon and remained concealed about the palace for most of the day. He hinted to guards and nurse that he was in the throes of a love affair, trying to fix his interest with his lady before he had to travel north on business. The nurse and the guards believed FitzRoy was serving as Lord Denno's excuse for being in the area, in order to see his imaginary light-o'-love. They smiled and covertly promised not to mention his frequent visits to the duke of Norfolk unless specifically asked.
Meanwhile Denoriel had stolen some morning time, when he was sure Harry was safe—making doubly sure by the device of Gating back to Windsor shortly after he had left it—to visit Aleneil. He needed to enlist her help in obtaining servants who would be able to live in his London house while he was gone. Low Court elves, if he could establish a Node in his garden, and if they could bear the amount of iron in the house, would be ideal.
Aleneil was very relieved to see him well again and satisfied by his report about the air spirit attending to its
duty. She suggested he send the little creature back while he was with FitzRoy to have its spell reinforced, and said she thought she would be able to shield the Low Court elven servants so that they would be comfortable.
"Will I need to teach them English or French?" she asked as an afterthought.
Denoriel thought a moment and then smiled. "No. Let them use Elven, and we'll let it be thought that they are from Lord Denno's native country. If I ever come across anyone who can speak Hungarian, I'll say they speak an obscure mountain dialect. That will ensure that the servants can't tell my visitors, who I'll stake high odds are curious as monkeys, anything at all."
Aleneil sighed. "Alas, I fear that is the only way to keep them from chattering. They are curious as cats, addicted to gossip, and I dare swear, only a little less flitter-minded than children."
"Ha," he replied. "They aren't the only creatures as curious as cats and as gossipy as any old woman. Boleyn and the others have been asking how I was managing in a house with no servants and offering to find staff for me so I could give entertainments and live in comfort. I told him I was waiting for my own people to come from Hungary." He laughed. "I'll teach them just enough English to say 'Wait here,' 'Master will see you now,' 'Master gone away. Leave message?' and they'll have to understand when the guests order wine or ale."
"Only women?" Aleneil asked. "Won't that rouse some nasty suspicions? I think you ought to have at least as many menservants. I know I can find enough who have magic sufficient to keep mortal guises on themselves."
"Oh, can you? Good." That was a relief; the Low Court elves had varying abilities with magic, but none of them could ken and replicate objects without a great deal of effort, and not all could hold a glamorie upon themselves for any length of time. "If you can find enough who wish to help, I'll be glad to have . . . ah, four men and four girls. A couple will have to be in the house all the time, but the others can Gate back and forth to Logres through the Gate in the tack room." It wouldn't matter that the faces would change; the elves playing servant would never leave the house, and he knew from experience that nobles and the wealthy never noticed the faces of those who served them.
"That makes things easy, but didn't you say you were going to ride north with FitzRoy's cortege?" his sister asked, with a frown. "Won't it look funny if you ride alone?"
"It will, but I can't take Low Court elves so far from their home trees. I suppose I'll have to take Boleyn's or Bryan's offer of a couple of menservants. I hate to do it. Their loyalty will be to Boleyn or Bryan, and if they see odd things . . ."
"Don't do that yet," Aleneil said. "Let me ask around the High Court. It seems to me that I heard there were some children grown who wanted to go back to the mortal world, or at least, to try. You would be the ideal intermediary between life Underhill and that much harsher life. And they could come back Underhill with you if they felt they could not bear the filth and crudity."
She would bring the servants, she assured him, and explain their duties to them. And she would teach them the phrases he had suggested as well as how to say "Don't speak English. Pardon, please."
He in turn taught her the pattern in the small Gate in Logres that would take her direct to the tack room in the stable of his London house and he gave her a spell to open the magic-locked doors that would let her into the house. Then he Gated back to Windsor, his heart in his mouth . . . but nothing had happened in his absence.
Norfolk returned. Denoriel made sure not to be visibly in Windsor that day although he skulked around after FitzRoy under the Don't-see-me spell. Once the boy was in bed, while the kitten (spell renewed) kept carefully watchful guard in the boy's room, he went Underhill to restore himself, anxious but realizing how foolish he had been to render himself helpless.
The next morning, when Harry was still at his lessons, he arrived at Windsor with a baggage mule carrying five exquisite Turkey carpets, The Nereid having arrived safely on the fifth of July. Of course, if the ship had not come in, Denoriel would have asked Jenci Moricz to obtain carpets and Gate them through from Elfhame Csetate-Boli, but he was glad the ship was there and the whole cargo in a rented warehouse.
It was Norfolk he asked to see, telling the steward that he had with him the Turkey carpets in which the duke had expressed an interest. He was admitted to Norfolk's presence promptly and he was unsurprised but gratified by the duke's pleased astonishment over the quality of the carpets.
Denoriel then explained his notion of having rugs of similar patterns made of English wool, which would considerably reduce the cost. Norfolk received that information with enthusiasm, since it meant another market for English wool. But, Denoriel said, he had not been able to explain to his factors exactly what he needed in the fleece. He would have to travel north and see the flocks himself, and when he found what he wanted, he would like to set a price in advance and pay part of the price to bind the deal. That meant, he added, that he would be carrying a substantial amount of gold and silver. He had no private army of retainers. Could he travel north with His Grace of Richmond's cortege?
With his eyes on the carpets, Norfolk agreed without the slightest hesitation. Then Denoriel thanked him, but not nearly with the relief he actually felt, and offered the five carpets as a gift of thanks. Norfolk demurred, protesting over the value of such a gift . . . which might be taken as a bribe.
"For what?" Denoriel asked, gesturing negation. "What have you to offer me, other than the safety of your guards on my way north? I have no political aims, no desire for any royal appointment, certainly no wish to evade importation fees or duties, nothing to ask of you as an official of the realm. But I do have many more rugs to sell, and giving these to you will be of great profit to my man of business—I hope. I hope you will be willing to display them where guests and those who come to you on business will see them. And when they ask where you came by such beautiful carpets . . . I hope you will speak the truth and send them to my man of Siencyn Adorjan—that is the name of my business enterprise—to buy carpets of their own."
"Well," said Norfolk, after a moment of thought. "They are a gentlemanly, a princely gift. And I can see no conflict in accepting them—"
"Even my man of business is one of your own English," Denoriel assured him. "For I have him upon my good friend Boleyn's direction."
"George Boleyn?" Norfolk's brow cleared. "A good choice. And you have my thanks, Lord Denno."
Now Denoriel had yet another reason to be grateful for his acquaintance with the young Boleyn—that card in a pocket in his elegant doublet, carefully inscribed with the name and direction: on Watling Street, west of St. Thomas's church. Ah, he thought, that, at least, was a servant I could accept from Boleyn. A superior man of business, who would not think of mixing with the common servants, but will show and sell my rugs and other goods. Taking the man on freed him from the tainted appearance of being a merchant himself, yet permitted him to have a visible means of support. Now he could play the lordling without having to account for the torrent of money he spent—or, at least, appeared to spend. The thought flitted through his mind as he rose and bowed, signing away Norfolk's renewed thanks as he left.
He did not appear to linger, riding away from Windsor in the direction his "friend" was supposed to live, but he slipped off Miralys at the postern gate and reentered the palace to watch over Harry through another eventless day.
Denoriel's anxiety was almost gone. There were only four days before they began their journey north and he was almost convinced that the attempt would be made while they were traveling. He could not imagine how an exchange could be made, but he intended to ride right beside Harry all the way and watch by his bed all night. Just because nothing had happened yet did not mean that the danger was over. But the longer an attempt was put off, the more difficult it would be for it to succeed.
The next morning he was able to examine and make sure the servants Aleneil had brought would be able to care for his house and carry on while he was gone. He liked the Low Court fay
that she had chosen, for they seemed steadier than most of their kind, though they did look upon all of this sojourning Overhill as some sort of grand adventure. Still, they were willing and intelligent, and Aleneil promised to return periodically while he was away to continue their training.
He gave more time to the three mortals that Aleneil brought to accompany him on his journey. One, Edward Trace, did not remain a candidate for a retainer very long. He had been taken by the elves after his cruel and drunken father became a toy—and then a dead and broken toy—of the Wild Hunt. Perhaps "taken" was not the right term, for poor Edward had practically been given to the Seleighe Elves of Logres.
When his mother had come looking for the husband she assumed had fallen down drunk again and had found the dead man, she had stared down at the mutilated corpse for a while and then begun to laugh. Finally she went back to the half-collapsed hut which had sheltered them and brought the infant Edward to lay beside the dead body. What had been going through her mind at that moment, no Sidhe could fathom. Perhaps she had been driven mad by her husband's abusive behavior; perhaps she had simply decided that she could not bear to look on the child of a man who had been so cruel to her. Maybe she assumed someone would find the dead man and living child before the latter died of exposure; perhaps she had not thought at all, except that she could not support herself and a child, and had laid the latter aside as an encumbrance. She had then shrugged once and walked away.
Edward had been snatched up by one of the lingering Sidhe and raised Underhill. No matter what he was told, he clung to the conviction that the mortal world was more real, more perfect . . . more something than the world of the Sidhe, and that he would be more than a mere servant in the real world. He had insisted that he wished to return Overhill.
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