All the other magic-users in the hall had backed away as far as they could. Some were crossing themselves, some were crying. A few were vomiting. Most were just trying hard not to be noticed. Chance stood glaring at the dead man, his breathing harsh and strained. Jericho Lament produced a handkerchief from his coat pocket and began calmly cleaning the blood from his hands. His long staff stood on end beside him. Chance took a step forward, and Lament turned his head slightly to look at him.
"What have you done, Lament?"
"God's work," said Lament, unmoved by the open rage in Chance's voice.
"I am Queen's Questor," said Chance, so angry, he didn't even notice Lament's normally overpowering presence. "I am responsible for justice in this Castle. These people are under my protection! If you have a problem with anyone, you come to me, and I take care of it!"
"His name was Russel Thorne," said Lament. "He raped, tortured, and murdered small children in pursuit of forbidden knowledge. He made the cellar beneath his house into a place of horror, and took children there one by one. When their bodies were finally brought out, their own parents couldn't bear to look at what had been done to them. I did what I did partly as a warning to others, and partly so that word of this would get back to those parents, and they would know justice had finally been done."
"I didn't know any of this about Thorne," said Chance.
"Of course not. But God knows everything," Lament looked Chance steadily in the eye. "Does it make you feel any better about what I did now that you know about him?"
"No, it doesn't," said Tiffany.
"Not everyone has the stomach for justice," said Jericho Lament.
"This was revenge, not justice," Tiffany said hotly. "You deal in violence and death. The God you serve is the God of Cemeteries."
"I killed Thorne so that no other child would suffer and die at his hands," said Lament. "I protect the innocent. Don't seek to judge me, witch. You have secrets, you and your Sisterhood. Pray that God does not send me to investigate what they are."
"I thought you just said God knows everything," said Chance.
"He does," said Lament. "But He only tells me what I need to know."
Tiffany and Lament studied each other silently for a long moment. The witch was using all her power to try and See the Walking Man's plans and future, but all her witchy gifts were useless against the sheer power of the man before her. Using her Sight on him was like looking into the heart of the sun, a light so fierce and intolerable, she had to look away or be blinded. She shut down her Sight and glared at Lament, who was still staring calmly back at her.
"Something bad is coming to the Forest Land," she said sharply. "I've Seen it. The long night come again. Demons spilling unchecked through a foully transformed Forest, with a full Blue Moon hanging overhead."
"Something bad is already here," said Lament. "That's why I've come to Forest Castle. Didn't you See that?"
"I thought you were the bad thing," Tiffany said reluctantly. "There's enough blood on your hands."
"Don't get in my way, little pagan," said Lament, not unkindly. "I am here to save you all."
"You're the kind who'd kill us all to save our souls," snapped Tiffany. "Be warned, Walking Man. I will defend this Castle, with my power and my life, if need be."
Lament actually smiled then, surprising everyone. "Well said, witch. Innocence is the only weapon I can't overcome." He turned to look at Chance, who'd been watching the conversation with a bemused fascination. "Questor, I need to see the Queen. Now."
"That's not possible right now," said Chance. "She's at Court. If you'd like me to take her a message—"
"Take me to see her right now, or I'll find my own way," said Jericho Lament.
"I won't let you threaten the Queen," Chance said slowly. "I'll fight you right here if I have to. I might not have your magic, but I have my father's axe, and the oath I swore to stand between my Queen and all harm."
"A brave oath," said Lament. "Relax, Questor. I haven't come to judge your Queen. I mean her no harm. I just need to talk to her."
"Will you give me your word on that, Walking Man?"
"I do, Questor. And my word is God's word, which is never broken."
"Then you'd better follow me. Though I can't imagine what the Court is going to make of you. Chappie, would you please get out from behind my legs?"
"Don't like him," growled the dog, his head down. His hackles were raised, and his tail was tucked tightly between his legs. "He smells like a grave."
"Don't be frightened of me, boy," said Lament. "You're a fine-looking dog. Won't you say hello to me?"
He reached down to pat Chappie's head, but the dog backed quickly away, growling loudly. Lament looked at him sadly.
"I think you'd better stay here and look after Tiffany, Chappie," said Chance, and the dog nodded quickly in agreement. Tiffany bristled.
"Why should I stay here? I want to be at Court when Lament meets the Queen!"
"We have a whole room full of traumatized magic-users here," Chance said quietly. "And God knows what they might get up to if someone isn't here to calm them down. Someone with enough magic to shut them down, if necessary. Get them settled, and you can join me later. All right?"
"I suppose so," said Tiffany ungraciously. "I hate babysitting."
Chance decided he'd settle for that, and gestured politely for the Walking Man to follow him. They left the hall together, and every magic-user there let out their breath in one great sigh. A babble of bewildered and outraged voices broke out, some of it bordering on hysterical. A few sat down with their backs to the walls, and held their hands tightly together to stop them shaking. No one looked at the broken and bloody corpse of Russel Thorne, not even Tiffany and Chappie.
At Court the courtiers' reaction to Lament's arrival was even more extreme than that of the magic-users. Chance let Lament in, announced who he was, and before he'd even finished speaking, every courtier in the hall headed for the nearest exit at top speed. They ran in every direction at once, shouting and screaming and cursing at those who didn't get out of their way fast enough. A few avoided the crush at the doors by throwing themselves out the open windows, trusting the moat below to break their fall. Lament watched it all unmoved. He was not unfamiliar with such reactions. The Queen's private guards hurried forward to form a wall between the Throne and the Walking Man, swords at the ready, and then they looked into Lament's eyes and turned and ran with the rest. Felicity sat stiffly on her Throne, looking steadily at Lament as he looked at her.
All too soon, everyone was gone except for the only two of the Queen's guardians who would never run. Her bodyguard Cally, and Sir Vivian. They stood together before the Throne, facing Lament with swords in their hands, putting their bodies and their lives between the Queen and danger. They looked into Lament's eyes and shuddered, but they would not turn away, and their swords were steady in their hands. Cally grinned mirthlessly at Lament.
"Old Man Death. Always knew you'd come for me one day. But I've never been afraid of you."
"I'm not here for you," said Lament.
"You'll have to get through me to get to Felicity," said Cally. "And I'm even better with this sword than people think."
"You don't remember me, do you, Cally?" the Walking Man asked.
Something in his voice made Cally frown and lower her sword. She stepped forward and looked closely at Lament's face, then her eyes widened. "Jesus, it's you."
Sir Vivian looked on uncomprehendingly as Cally backed away from Lament. He didn't understand what had passed between them, or why the Queen was just sitting there, but it was clear he was the last defense for the Queen. He'd heard about the Walking Man, the Wrath of God. The living legend. Sir Vivian didn't know if he could hope to stand against such a powerful figure, but he'd been a living legend, too, in his time. So just maybe Lament wasn't everything he was supposed to be, either. Sir Vivian hefted his sword. Cold steel wasn't going to be enough this time, or Chance would have stopped the Wal
king Man long before this. But he couldn't let the Queen be hurt, not after failing to protect her husband—and that left only one option. The one weapon he'd never wanted to use.
He was Vivian Hellstrom of the Tower Rouge, and he knew his duty.
So he let the magic run loose within him. It surged forth, free at last, crackling on the air around him, a new and potent presence in the Court. Everyone there could feel it, and looked in astonishment at Sir Vivian. He seemed suddenly larger, more solid, almost as impressive as the Walking Man himself. He was the son of the High Warlock and the Night Witch, possibly the two most powerful sorcerers the Forest had ever known, and he had finally come into his inheritance.
He gestured sharply, and lightning bolts flashed through the air, crackling loudly, heading straight for Lament. The Walking Man put his long staff before him, and the bolts grounded themselves through the staff, discharging harmlessly. Sir Vivian gestured again, and fires blazed up around Lament, a great circle of flames whose heat was so intense that Chance had to throw up an arm to protect his face, and fell back several steps. The floor of the Court blackened, but Lament stood calmly inside the ring of fire, untouched by the vicious heat. Sir Vivian scowled, and the flames were gone as swiftly as they'd arisen. Sir Vivian pulled his magic out and around him, enclosing himself in a liquid silver armor that covered him from head to toe. He moved forward like a living statue, and there was something about him that had the inevitability of an avalanche or an earthquake. His power beat on the air like giant wings. His sword glowed so brightly, it was painful to look at. And Jericho Lament went forward to meet him.
Their magics went out before them and grappled on the still air. It was like two huge icebergs slamming together, two unstoppable forces stopped at last. Reality itself seemed to ripple around the two men as they slowed to a halt facing each other. Sir Vivian raised his sword and the Walking Man raised his staff. Unseen forces warred in the Court, old and potent. And slowly, inexorably, Sir Vivian Hellstrom was forced down onto his knees. The silver armor disappeared abruptly, and Sir Vivian was thrown back to lie gasping and trembling on the floor. Cally moved quickly forward to kneel beside him, sword ready to protect him if necessary. Lament studied his fallen foe dispassionately.
"God is my armor, Warlock's son."
"You shan't have her," said Sir Vivian, struggling to his feet with Cally's help. "While there's breath in my body, I'll defy you in the Queen's name."
"You inspire brave defenders, Your Majesty," Lament said to the Queen. "But I am not here to judge you."
Sir Vivian looked at him, confused but still determined. "Swear you mean the Queen no harm."
"Of course he doesn't," said Felicity.
"I'm not here for her or you, Warlock's son," said Lament. "Stand down. I'm just here to talk with the Queen. In private."
Chance looked at him, startled. "You must know that's not possible—"
"Leave us," said the Queen. "All of you."
"You can't trust him, Your Majesty," Sir Vivian said stubbornly. "The Walking Man serves only his God."
"He would never hurt me," said Queen Felicity. "Go. Leave us. We have much to discuss."
Chance, Cally, and Sir Vivian looked at another, shrugged pretty much simultaneously, bowed to the Queen on her Throne, and left the Court, Sir Vivian leaning just a little on Cally's supporting arm. The Queen and the Walking Man stared at each other for a long moment, and then the Queen rose to her feet and stepped down from the Throne on its dais. She stood before Jericho Lament and they both smiled.
"Lament wasn't always your name," said Felicity.
"It is now," said Lament. "Now and forever. That was the deal I made."
"Is there anything left of the man I remember?"
"Of course. I'm more than I was, not less. And I could never forget you, Fliss."
"Then let us walk awhile," said the Queen. "And talk of old times, when we were young and foolish, and still had hope."
They strolled together around the great Hall, companionably close but not touching. Felicity drew a cigarette case and her long holder from a pocket in her sleeve, and lit up. Lament shook his head.
"You know those things are bad for you."
"Everything I like is bad for me," said Felicity cheerfully. "But I'm still here. And you look at least two meals short. Are you eating properly?"
"I only eat and drink when I think of it," said Lament. "And I haven't slept in years. When I swore myself to God, He put me beyond all physical weaknesses. I can't die anymore. God wouldn't allow it."
"I've always excelled at physical weaknesses," said Felicity. "They're what I do best."
"I know," said Lament. "I remember."
Felicity looked at him fondly. "How much do you remember, Lament?"
"I remember that I was never happier than when I was with you. Or more miserable. That's love for you, I suppose."
They walked awhile together, in silence. Thinking, remembering. "So much has changed," Felicity said eventually. "When we were younger, and still together, the Forest Kingdom was the enemy. Now I'm its Queen, and you've come here to save it. I take it you have come here to save it?"
"That is my mission. You are all in great danger. Fliss, how long have you known I was the Walking Man?"
"Some time now," said Felicity. Still looking straight ahead, she put an arm through his. "As Queen, I have a great many agents spread throughout the Forest Land who report to me on important matters like that. You've made quite a reputation for yourself. Some of the things I've heard…" She looked at him almost accusingly. "The man I remember was never so harsh, so judgmental. You've killed a lot of people, Lament. Most of them needed killing, from the sound of it, but—"
"God, and the world, changes us all," said Lament. "I became who I had to, to do what I must. You never tried to contact me…"
"I didn't want to meet the kind of man you seemed to have become. I was happier with my memories of the man you used to be. The man I loved."
They stopped before an open window and looked out at the peaceful view before them. The empty Court was very quiet.
"I see Cally's still with you," said Lament. "I always approved of her. Even though she scared the crap out of me in the old days. She never took any shit from anyone, even your father. Do you feel threatened here?"
Felicity laughed shortly. "Only every bloody day, darling. I have so many enemies now, they have to line up to plot against me."
"Would you like me to do something about them?" Lament asked politely.
"Can you?" asked Felicity, just a little surprised. "I mean, are you allowed to get involved with mere worldly matters like politics?"
"No," said Lament. "But they don't know that. A good hard stare from me should be enough to make most of them back down. Sin is sin, and all politicians are guilty of something. Just the knowledge that you are under my protection should be enough to scare off all but the most determined. And I will kill anyone who tries to harm you, Fliss. For my heart's sake."
They walked on again, not saying anything. They had a lot of catching up to do, but they were in no hurry.
"We were happy at my father's Court," Felicity finally said. "In those long summer days that seemed to go on forever. When you had another name, and I was just another Princess. You've changed so much. You were always so frivolous then. Always ready for a party, or dressing up for a costume ball, always there when I wanted to go dancing or hunting."
"Mostly I was happy," said Lament. "But often I just pretended. Keeping myself busy because it passed the time and kept me from thinking disturbing thoughts. I didn't know it at the time, but even then I was looking for someone or something to give my life to. I thought I'd found it in you, but I was wrong."
"Are you happy now?" asked Felicity, not looking at him.
"Sometimes," said Lament. "At least my life has meaning now. Purpose."
"But you're so alone."
"God is with me."
"And is that enough?"
> "Sometimes."
"We were so happy then," Felicity repeated. "I'd never had a lover like you. Someone who cared so much about even the smallest things."
"But you always cared more about being a Princess than you did about us," said Lament. "No matter how close I held you, you always kept me at a distance. And then there was the baby."
"I had to abort it. I had to. The scandal if my father had found out about us, about the baby…"
"You didn't even tell me about it until it was too late. Until it was over and done with."
"You would have tried to talk me out of it. And I didn't want to be talked out of it. You were never supposed to know."
"But someone talked," said Lament. "Someone always talks. The abortion was the last straw for me. I kept telling myself you'd change, that I could change you. But you were always your father's daughter. We were always separated, by royalty and religion. You never understood how important my faith was to me, my beliefs. Or you couldn't have done what you did."
They walked on, not looking at each other. Felicity's hand gripped Lament's arm a little more tightly.
"Did the Duke ever know about us?" asked Lament.
"Of course, dear." Felicity blew a perfect smoke ring and watched it sail away on the air before them. "Daddy made it his business to know things like that. He had more spies inside his Palace than outside. As long as we weren't public knowledge and a threat to his reputation, he didn't care. And he never saw you as a threat. A very minor noble, more interested in the priesthood than politics. The perfect chaperone in Daddy's eyes."
"But he never knew about…"
"The pregnancy? No. He'd have had you killed slowly and horribly if he even suspected."
"You knew the abortion would hurt me when I found out."
"I had to be strong," said Felicity. "For both of us."
Beyond The Blue Moon Page 35