The Queen's Witch

by Karen Chance

  “Yes, well, where ours leads, the others will follow.”

  “You must be sure,” Garzas told me. “We cannot do this by magic alone. We need men, if we are to hold this land. But most of those loyal to our cause are in the north and will need time to shift their armies here. Just as we need it to transport ours across the channel. You must buy us that!”

  “You’ll have our aid,” I said evenly. “As soon as you keep your side of the bargain.”

  “Then we will have it tomorrow,” the Spaniard told me. “And tomorrow, we will have England.”

  Chapter Four

  It took another ten minutes of drinking and well wishing before we could finally make our escape. The river’s stench had never smelt so good, I thought fervently, leaning against the side of a building down the street, heedless of the fine fabric of the witch’s cloak. My insides felt like someone had stirred them with a stick, but it was over. It was over and we’d done it.

  I didn’t quite believe it.

  “You were right,” I told Kit, feeling a little giddy. “That wasn’t so bad. There were a few rough moments, I grant you, but all in all—”

  “Return to the ship and give this to my man,” he said, cutting me off and pressing something into my hand. “Tell him what passed this night, and the danger in which the queen lies. He will see to it that you receive what I promised you.”

  He strode off back the way we’d come as I stared in confusion at my palm, where his signet ring gleamed softly in the dim light. And then I picked up my skirts and chased after him. “What are you talking about?” I asked, catching him up. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going back.”

  “Back?” I stared at him, wishing I could see his expression. But the only light came from a few weak moonbeams that had managed to fight their way through the clouds, and the pinprick of a lantern in the Spaniard’s blackened guts, doubtless from some scavenger. Still, the features I could make out looked serious. “Back where?” I asked, hoping I had misunderstood his meaning.

  “You heard the mage. The ambassador will be here in half an hour. I must get the jewel before then.”

  He started off again, but I grabbed his arm. “Why?” I asked incredulously. “Simply tell the queen to refuse the gift. Now that you know the plan--”

  “It is not so simple.”

  “And why not?” I demanded.

  “Because they chose the bait too well,” he said, sounding aggrieved. “If the queen has a weakness, it is for pearls. She wears seven strands of them on a daily basis, and more on state occasions. They are the symbol of virginity, and she is the virgin queen. She identifies with them closely.”

  “Why does that matter?” I asked heatedly. My initial elation had evaporated, leaving me angry and confused. We were out; we were free. We needed to get as far away from this place as possible, not talk of going back!

  “It matters because she has what may be the finest collection in Europe. She has given explicit instructions to her sea captains to seize pearls for her whenever they have cause to raid another ship. Drake once told me he thought they would win a man a knighthood faster than any amount of gold.”

  “Then surely she has enough!”

  “There is no such thing,” he said dryly. “She once forced one of her ladies-in-waiting to present her a magnificent black velvet, pearl-embroidered gown as a gift—and the woman was wearing it at the time! White and black are the queen’s favorite colors, and pearls her favorite adornment, and no one is allowed to outshine her in her own court. Or anywhere else.”

  “You cannot believe she’d risk her life for a single jewel!”

  “Not just any jewel, no. But for La Peregrina--”

  “But it’s cursed.”

  “Yes, but it will not appear to be so,” he said impatiently. “Trevelyan was a coven mage before he was banished. If he’s cursed the stone using earth magic, the Circle won’t detect it. Their advisors at court will tell her that there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “But you can tell her differently. You can—”

  “I do not have direct access to her Majesty,” he said, starting back for the house and forcing me to jog alongside. “My lord Walsingham did, but since his death it has been far more difficult to gain her ear.”

  “You must have some way—”

  “Yes, but the queen may well choose to believe those who tell her what she wishes to hear, or pick up the king’s gift before anyone can tell her anything at all!”

  Suddenly, I could see it—the jewel in a beautiful presentation box, the ambassador opening it before the throne, the queen’s astonishment. My own fingers had itched to touch it, to feel the pearl’s glossy perfection and prove to myself that it was real. Anyone’s first impulse would be to pick it up.

  And even if her mages stopped her, if they made her wait while they inspected it, they would find nothing wrong. Only a coven witch might detect whatever malediction Trevelyan had used. And the Circle had insured that there were none of those at court.

  We reached the mage’s house and I dug in my heels. “You can’t go in there!”

  Kit shot me an exasperated look. “I have explained why I must.”

  “But you’ll die!”

  His lips quirked. “In case you failed to notice—”

  “Make a joke now,” I told him seriously, “and by the Goddess—”

  I cut off as someone threw open a window above us. Kit snatched me back into the shadow of the house as a single candle was thrust out into the night, shining bright as a beacon in the darkness. It highlighted Trevelyn’s stubble as he peered up and down the street.

  I held my breath, pressed hard against Kit’s chest, as the candlelight struck glints off the gold in the witch’s gown and a few drops of hot wax splattered the street in front of her dainty shoes. But the mage never looked down. I finally realized that he hadn’t heard us; he was looking for his guest, who was due any minute now. After a long moment, he closed the shutters once more and I let out a shaky breath.

  “You must go,” Kit whispered.

  “And you must listen,” I said, in a furious undertone. “That isn’t an ordinary ward in there—it’s a mortuus field. Any living flesh that passes through it dies.”

  “Which should prove no hindrance for me.”

  I rounded on him. “You may not be alive in the human sense, but your body is animated by living energy—energy that the field will suck right out of you. It might not kill you, but it will drain you dry, thus leaving you at Trevelyan’s mercy—or lack of it!”

  That wiped the perpetual smirk off his face, at least. “How can you be certain?”

  “Because I was a wardsmith. And that’s a Druid ward.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Then I’ll hook it with something and pull the jewel out.”

  I shook my head. “Nothing but flesh can pass through the field, but only the caster’s is immune. He can reach safely through; you can’t.”

  Kit’s eyes narrowed as he stared up at the window. “Does he have to be alive at the time?”

  I glared at him. “You do not want to take on a dark mage on his own territory!”

  “I will do what I must,” he told me, with a stubborn glint in his eye.

  “Listen to me,” I said, resisting a strong urge to shake him. “Trevelyn is a Black Circle mage with the added benefit of earth magic. He’s also an expert poisoner, who has littered Goddess only knows how many traps around the place. I’m telling you plainly: go in there and you will not come out.”

  “And yet I must have it, Gillian.” And I finally found out what he looked like when he wasn’t joking. I decided I preferred the jovial mask to this glitter-eyed stranger.

  I stared at him, angry and confused. “If this is about your lady, surely she will—”

  “This is about my queen,” he said furiously. “She may not be yours, but she is mine. And I will not fail her in this!”

  He started to climb up, but I held on. “But…
but you mocked her,” I said, in disbelief. “She’s old, her teeth are bad, she’s cheap—”

  “She is all of those things, as well as stubborn and vain and childish and mercurial and a thousand others. She is England,” he hissed, gesturing sharply. “With all its faults and frailties, its pettiness and posturing, and its stubborn will to survive. She should have been dead a thousand times by now, we all should--when Rome invited most of Europe to invade, when the Queen of Scots fomented rebellion within her very borders, when the Armada came. And yet she lives, and so do we, Protestant and free in spite of it all, because of that willful, stubborn, impossible, indomitable woman!”

  I blinked, finally catching up. “You’re not doing this because you were ordered to at all, are you?”

  He drew himself up. “My lady instructed me—”

  I crossed my arms and just looked at him.

  He scowled. “Go and do as I asked. Tell my man what you heard and then depart this country as quickly as you can. If this fails, you need to be far away from here before Trevelyn and his ilk come to power.”

  He grasped hold of the lower story, preparing to lever himself up. Preparing to die, if necessary, for the country he loved and the woman who embodied it—for all of us. He was completely mad, but I was no better. England was mine. It might have forsaken me, but nothing changed that. And I couldn’t watch its ruin any more than he could.

  Goddess’ teeth.

  I pulled him back down. “I’ll help you,” I said sourly.

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said! But despite everything, I do not believe we would be better off under foreign rule.” I crossed my arms. “There’s a damn sight too many foreigners here already, if you ask me.”

  “Help me how?” he demanded. “You said the ward is impenetrable.”

  “It is.” I stared past him into the dark, where the lantern was still bobbing here and there amid the wreckage of the Spaniard. We were closer now, allowing me to pick out Fulke’s hulking shape in the shadows. And something more besides. “But I think I might have an idea.”

  *..*..*

  Twenty minutes later, my idea was sitting on Trevelyn’s table, scratching its arse.

  “What is it doing?” Kit asked, hanging off the roof to peer into the window.

  “What does it look like?” I asked crossly, trying to keep a tenuous grip on the mage’s wet shingles. On top of everything, it had started to rain, and the gown was taking on water at an alarming rate. Any minute it was going to drag me off the roof to my doom.

  “Why?” he asked incredulously. “It cannot possibly have fleas. What would they live on?”

  “Vitriol,” I said sourly, glaring at the disgusting lump.

  Sol’s moth-eaten pet had been clinging like a limpet to Fulke’s sweaty neck as he sifted through the burnt out hulk of the tavern, looking for the till he’d left behind. In return for not beating him into a pulp, he had loaned the thing to us. Not that it had done a damn bit of good, so far.

  “Are you certain he can penetrate the field?” Kit demanded.

  “Yes! At least…fairly certain.”

  “Fairly certain?”

  I transferred my glare to him. “I haven’t had cause to try this before! But it should work. Zombies are controlled by magic, not living energy. As flesh, he should be able to pass through the field; but with no life to drain, the ward can’t hurt him.”

  “More’s the pity,” Kit muttered, as I glanced nervously behind me.

  The main entrance to the house was around the corner, but the light spilling from the open front door was casting wavering shadows into the road. There were three of them, the two mages and—I assumed—the butler who had greeted us. But they wouldn’t be there for long. I’d cast a spell imitating the sound of horses’ hooves to get them out of the room, but when they didn’t find their illustrious guest waiting on the doorstep, they’d be back.

  And our one chance would be lost.

  I looked back to find that the creature had transferred his attentions to his armpit. He was less than four feet from the slowly revolving necklace, but was paying it no attention whatsoever. Perverse damn thing. Any other time, he would have been all about a bit of shine, but because for once I wanted him to steal something, he wasn’t interested.

  “The wretched thing hasn’t been the same since his death,” I said, wishing he was still alive so I could choke the life out of him.

  “It does take it out of one,” Kit agreed, letting himself down through the open window.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered. “Get out of there!”

  “Nothing bothered him,” he pointed out, disappearing inside.

  “He’s already dead!”

  A curly head poked back out briefly. “As am I, and we’re out of time. Stay here.”

  I cursed, thinking of the few hundred snares Trevelyn could have placed around the room. And then I wriggled my fifty pounds of waterlogged velvet through the window after him. I lost one of the witch’s shoes, but I made it in—just in time to see the monkey take a swipe at Kit’s head.

  “You’re lucky,” I panted, as the creature scampered up the bed curtains. “At least he doesn’t throw excrement anymore.”

  “Only because he doesn’t make any,” Kit said, shooting me a glance. “And I thought I told you to stay put.”

  “And I thought I told you not to come in here!”

  “We don’t have time for—” his head jerked up at the sound of horses’ hooves on the street—real ones this time. “—anything,” he finished, jumping up and grabbing for the monkey.

  He moved almost too fast to see, just a blur against the pale walls, but the monkey moved faster. It had the liquid speed of the undead, too, and the added advantage of a tiny, compact little body. With a derisive clucking of his tongue, he ducked under Kit’s hands and jumped to the rafters, skittering along a beam with his shadow rippling grotesquely along the wall.

  I turned to the window in time to see no fewer than five cloaked figures clatter past on horses. I didn’t get a power reading off the one in front—the ambassador, I assumed. But the other four were practically glowing against the night. I didn’t know what the Black Circle’s equivalent of war mages were, but I had a feeling we were about to meet them. Briefly.

  “We have to go,” I told Kit, spinning around. “Now!”

  “Thank you for that,” he said, from atop the large, center beam bisecting the room. He made another grab for the monkey, just as the thing jumped for a different rafter. The creature somehow reversed course mid-air, ending up back where he’d started, but Kit didn’t. He did manage to land on his feet—mostly--and glared up at the thing. “Get down here!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. That’ll work.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  I stared up at the little horror, which was currently showing us his withered bits. He wasn’t my zombie; I couldn’t control him. And Sol was who knew where right now, not that the bastard was likely to have helped in any case. And his creature was no better, as conniving, contrary and obstinate as his owner, always doing exactly the opposite of what was—

  I blinked, and then quickly decided that it couldn’t hurt. I limped over to the table and placed my nose close enough to the ward to feel the slippery static of its surface. “What a beauty,” I cooed.

  “He can’t understand you,” Kit said, looking at me strangely.

  “He understands the general idea,” I said, as the monkey turned his tiny face toward me. I ignored him, concentrating on the ward. “Such a pretty, pretty thing,” I breathed. “Must be worth a fortune. I’m glad it’s so well protected.”

  “Unlike us,” Kit said grimly, staring at the door.

  “What is it?”

  “They’re coming up the stairs.”

  I stared in desperation at the necklace, so temptingly close, so impossibly far away. My fingernails made a whispering across the outer membrane of the ward as I curled my hands into
fists. I could practically feel it, the smooth contours of the golden rose that formed the setting, the cool, slippery gleam of the jewels. But it might as well be on the moon.

  And then I blinked and it was gone--and so was the monkey.

  “Grab him!” Kit said, jumping for the window.

  I turned in time to see a furry blur making a break for freedom, and then the door slammed opened and things became a little confused. Someone shouted and someone else leaped for us, a curse flying out in front of him. I spun, acting before I thought, and lashed out with a declive that flung the mage’s spell right back at him. Whatever he’d cast must have been pretty brutal, because it caught him in the middle of his leap and sent him crashing back into his party.

  “Caught him!” Kit crowed, from somewhere behind me and I didn’t hesitate.

  “Then catch this!” I told him, throwing a leg over the staff. He grabbed me around the waist and swung on behind me as I flung us into space, using the staff as a platform for a levitation spell in lieu of a broom.

  It worked—a little too well.

  I’d forgotten that the staff multiplied my power considerably. Instead of merely flying out the window as I’d planned, we burst through in an explosion of wooden slats, taking one of the shutters along with us. To make matters worse, the voluminous skirts flew up in my face, insuring that I couldn’t see anything as we hurtled into the air.

  For a very long moment, there was nothing but the monkey’s angry chatter and Kit’s curses as I fought with seemingly unending yards of fabric. And then the velvet cloud parted and I stared around, to find us pelting through the air above London at an unbelievable speed. I stared around in awe. I’d never been so high before.

  Then I remembered that we weren’t the only ones who could fly. I glanced behind us, half expecting to see the Black Circle’s mages gaining fast. But there was nothing besides dark blue clouds stacked high above skirts of rain, lightning flashing bright in their bellies.

  “What are you doing?” Kit shouted in my ear.