by Mike Shevdon
“I have some information which I thought I should share,” she said, addressing all of them.
“Perhaps,” said Krane, “You have come to inform us that you will no longer be filling the High Court with waifs and strays and you have found some place of your own?”
That was another point of contention. The High Court was supposed to be neutral ground. No one court was supposed to have more claim there than any other, but the Eighth Court had nowhere else. If the Eighth Court were to continue, it would need a home, but unlike the other courts it had no land, property or wealth. It was one more thing on top of all the other things she had to worry about.
“The Seventh Court has stolen the knives and horseshoes for the Quit Rents ceremony.” There was a long silence. There, she thought. That shut them up.
Yonna asked, “How did you come by this information?”
She summarised what Niall had told her. “Raffmir has taken the safe containing the knives and the horseshoes. Niall thinks he recruited human help to steal it. They were in a van. As far as I know, Raffmir can’t drive?”
“Who knows what he is capable of,” said Barthia.
“I can’t see Raffmir driving a vehicle,” said Kimlesh. “Can you?”
“You’re missing the point,” said Yonna. “He’s taken the knives. We will need to replace them before the ceremony is performed again.
“The clerk’s also missing,” said Blackbird. “There’s blood all over her flat.”
“If she’s dead, that’s more of a problem,” said Kimlesh. “Will they be able to appoint a new clerk in time for the ceremony? Is there a successor?”
“Your biggest problem is still getting the knives remade,” said Teoth.
“How so?” asked Kimlesh.
“The Highsmiths made one knife for us,” said Yonna. “I’m sure they can be persuaded to make another, and while Raffmir may be able to steal the safe with the knives in, he won’t be able to steal the hammer or the anvil, even if he has human help.”
“He doesn’t need to,” said Blackbird. “He has the nails. Without the sixty-first nail, we can’t reach the hammer either. We can’t remake the knives without the hammer.”
Teoth smiled. “It’s worse than that. While you might be able to get the smiths to make another Quick Knife, you are assuming we will make another Dead Knife.”
“Can we not?” asked Yonna. “You are the High Maker, Teoth. You made the original. Can you not make another?”
“If I had the metal, perhaps,” he said. “Assuming I was willing to make it.”
“Why would you not be willing?” asked Barthia.
“When we put the barrier in place,” said Teoth, “we were united in our task to keep the Seventh Court from our world. Our reasons for excluding them have recently become… less compelling.” He looked at Blackbird.
“You are surely not holding the Eighth Court to ransom?” said Kimlesh. “That’s outrageous!”
Teoth folded his arms. “I am merely pointing out that if you go ahead without consensus, then you cannot expect cooperation when things go badly.”
“This isn’t a game,” said Barthia. “If the Seventh Court return then we will all suffer.”
“Not necessarily,” said Krane. “Only last year, Altair was willing to enter discussions on the peaceful return of our wraithkin brethren.”
“That was just a cover for what Raffmir was doing,” said Blackbird. “It was a distraction from his real plan, which was to destroy all the mixed-race fey.”
“I thought the discussions were positive,” said Krane. “We were making progress until Warder Dogstar tried to destroy half of Wiltshire.”
“He saved the mongrel fey, and uncovered systematic torture in violation of our treaty with humanity,” said Blackbird.
“Our treaty doesn’t cover half-breeds,” said Krane.
“That’s debatable,” said Kimlesh.
“And it only applies to six courts,” Krane continued, “not seven… or eight.”
“The treaty applies to all of the Feyre,” said Yonna.
“But they’re not fey, are they?” said Teoth. “How many have you sworn to your court so far, Blackbird?”
“We have pledges from a number of individuals,” said Blackbird.
“Pledges? They’re not even blood-sworn!” said Teoth. “They could do anything, bring ruin on all of us!”
“Going over this again is getting us nowhere,” said Barthia. “Perhaps our efforts would be better focused on finding the original knives. We need to find Raffmir and recover the safe.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” asked Kimlesh.
“It could be at the bottom of the Thames by now,” said Blackbird. “Or on a container ship out of the London docks, headed for the Far East.”
Mellion stood and made a complicated gesture, mimicking the turning of a key in a lock.
“Mellion’s right,” said Kimlesh. “We should deploy what resources we have and focus on finding Raffmir. If he knows where the safe is, then he holds the key.”
“Finding a wraithkin?” said Yonna. “Would you have us turn back time as well? Or move the stars, perhaps? He’s probably gone back to their world by now.”
“What? And miss the opportunity to gloat?” said Blackbird. “No, Raffmir is here somewhere. We just have to find him.”
Kimlesh spoke into the shadows beyond the circle of light around the chairs. “Fionh, would you ask Garvin to step in, please?”
The door opened, spilling light into the room momentarily, and she slipped out silently. Blackbird noticed Niall waiting outside, trying to catch her attention.
“We have time,” said Barthia. “It is months until the ceremony must be performed again. The barrier holds for now. Teoth has a point, we stand united or not at all. His concerns, and those of Lord Krane, must be addressed. We will meet again tomorrow.” She rose, as did Kimlesh, and Yonna. Krane and Teoth exchanged glances and rose, then walked out, heads together in low conversation. Blackbird waited until Mellion and Barthia had also left and then joined Kimlesh and Yonna. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” she said.
“It is worse than you think,” said Yonna. “The barrier has been maintained for centuries. This is not the first time that the Seventh Court has tried to bring it down. Always before, though, we have responded together, as one voice. Six against one, Altair knew he couldn’t win.”
“More than that,” said Kimlesh. “Altair knows there is division. That’s why he’s doing this now. He knew Teoth would block any move to re-forge the knives.”
“Which means that Altair is conspiring with Teoth and Krane,” said Yonna. They were interrupted by Fionh returning with Garvin. Kimlesh explained the situation and Garvin listened until she’d finished.
“I’ll take the Warders,” he said, “and walk through the Royal Courts of Justice with Niall. Maybe we can pick up on the trail or find some clue as to who was helping Raffmir. If we can find the van, maybe we can find the safe, or at least discover what they’ve done with it.”
“Thank you Garvin,” said Kimlesh.
He held his fist over his heart and backed away. Blackbird made her excuses and followed. When she reached the doorway, Niall was trailing along after Garvin down the corridor. He pointed meaningfully at the ceiling.
“Now, Dogstar!” Garvin’s voice carried down the corridor and Niall turned and trotted after him. Blackbird followed after him, the heavy skirts of the dress rustling with her step as she made her way back to the rooms they shared. It was getting late and she was tired, not least of arguing with Krane and Teoth. She was beginning to wonder whether this was all worthwhile.
When she reached the rooms, Angela was there, with Alex.
“Hello,” said Blackbird. “I thought you were staying at your mum’s.”
“I am,” said Alex. “Where’s Dad?”
Blackbird unhooked the dress and shrugged it from her shoulders, placing it on the waiting hanger. “He had to go
out. Warder business.”
“He was supposed to fetch you,” she said.
“I told you. Garvin took him out. He’ll be back in a while.”
Alex stood. “This can’t wait.”
“What can’t?” Blackbird changed into comfortable clothes. “I need to check on the baby. I’ve hardly seen him all day.”
“You need to come with me,” said Alex, moving towards the door.
“Look,” said Blackbird. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m just about ready to drop. I still have things to do, so I don’t need a mystery. Just tell me what the matter is and I’ll try and help, OK.”
Alex shook her head. “It’s you who doesn’t understand, and anyway, I promised.”
“Promised who?”
Alex looked meaningfully at the mirror on the wall and then went to the desk and found a scrap of paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to Blackbird. On the piece of paper was a name: Claire Radisson.
FOUR
“Are you there?”
The voice whispered from the dark. “Of course.”
“They know about the safe. He was there. He nearly caught them doing it.”
“He didn’t.”
“What was he doing there?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have them now. There will be no more ceremony,” said the whisperer.
“They are talking about re-making the knives.”
“What does Teoth say?”
“He’s playing hard to get, making them work for it.”
“Good,” said the voice.
“Do you want me to say anything to him?”
There was no reply, only darkness.
“Fine.” After a moment, the shadow slipped away again.
“Very good,” said the whisperer, after the shadow had gone.
Alex led the journey down the Way. She wouldn’t even tell Blackbird where they were going, though it soon became obvious. The walk to Katherine’s house was mostly conducted in silence. When they reached the front door, Katherine opened it and hurried them inside. Claire Radisson was in Katherine’s lounge. There were cups of tea that had been made and left to go cold, and newspapers left open and discarded. Her impatience was written across her face.
“Veronica! Thank goodness you’re here.” Katherine looked taken aback at the use of the name Veronica, but let it go.
Blackbird took the seat opposite Claire, sinking too far into the upholstery for her liking. “I’m not sure how long I have,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you from something more important,” said Claire, taking offence.
“You’re not sorry, and I don’t have time for games,” said Blackbird. “So tell me.”
Claire cleared her throat, looking to Katherine for support. Katherine was seeing a side of Blackbird that she hadn’t seen before. “It started last week,” said Claire. “Jerry, the Remembrancer, you remember from the hospital?” Blackbird gave the slightest of nods. “Jerry has retired – Elizabeth insisted. They have a son, in Australia. Elizabeth said they would go on an extended visit, take Deborah too.”
“And get as far away from here as possible?” asked Blackbird.
“Something like that,” said Claire.
“Smart move. Go on.”
“It’s not as simple as that. Jerry is… was a senior member of the Queen’s Bench Division and there are arrangements to be made. He had lists and dates. All of that had to be rescheduled and–”
“Can we get to the meat of it?” asked Blackbird.
Claire clasped her hands together. “Last week his office was disturbed. There was nothing taken but things had been moved. I’ve worked with him for, oh, more years than I care to recall, and he has his ways. Things were out of place.”
“A potential successor, perhaps, having a look around?” asked Blackbird.
Claire continued. “I was very careful, after what happened. I wanted to know when things were meddled with. You never knew when there might be…” She glanced at Katherine, “whether they might try again. The ceremony this year, it went as planned but there was something missing. We did everything as we should, but it wasn’t right. If it goes well… I just know. Is that hard to believe?”
“No,” said Blackbird. She could hear a tension between truth and falsehood in Claire’s words, but she let it go. “Those are the sorts of feelings you should trust.”
“Afterwards Jerry knew too. He told me, after the ceremony. He said, he was on the point of saying, ‘Good number!’, and it stuck in his throat. He covered it with a sip of water, and the ceremony completed without interruption, but it wasn’t perfect. Do you see?”
“Were the nails, the knives, and the horseshoes all there?” asked Blackbird.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure? Could there have been substitutions? Some sort of switch?”
“How? How could such a thing happen?”
Blackbird could hear something in Claire’s tone. She wasn’t lying exactly but there was evasion there. “That’s a very good question,” she said.
“Who has access to the safe?”
“Only Jerry and I do.”
“A spare key?”
“Jerry has the spare. I don’t think he actually knows what it’s for.”
“Jerry’s in Australia,” said Blackbird.
“He is now,” said Claire.
“Could a copy have been made?”
“I don’t know.” Claire was running her fingers repeatedly through her hair.
“Tell me the rest,” said Blackbird.
“Would anyone like a cup of tea?” asked Katherine.
No one answered. Even Alex was focused on Claire.
“You’ll laugh,” said Claire, “I read something in the journals – I tried to summon you by writing your name and Niall’s on pieces of paper and burning them. It didn’t do any good.”
“It wouldn’t. You need a talent for that kind of summoning,” said Blackbird.
“In the end I contacted Sam – Sam Veldon. It was strange. He didn’t even ask me why I wanted to know – he got me an address for Niall, but he said Niall no longer lived here. When I asked him for a more current address he laughed. He said, ‘Try behind the mirror, or under the bed.’ What did he mean?”
“Niall can be elusive.”
“I wrote to Niall, here. That was days ago. I’ve been on the run, ever since. Katherine said she gave him the letter, but only yesterday – God, it seems like weeks have passed.”
“On the run from what?”
“From whom… sorry, old habits.” Claire tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’d taken precautions. You know I’m careful. I had a horseshoe on the front door. I had one on the back too, but there’s a short-cut. The recycling – you can take it downstairs, walk around the back in the dark and put it in the bins – or you can drop it into the alley and then put it into the bins on the way out in the morning when it’s daylight. Everyone does it.”
You dropped the recycling over the fire escape?” said Blackbird.
“I was making supper,” said Claire. “It was pasta, with peppers and tomato and… anyway, I heard a noise, or maybe just sensed a change. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then I wondered – did I put the horseshoe back after putting the recycling out. I couldn’t remember. I knew I should have. I just couldn’t remember if I did.”
“What did you do?” asked Blackbird.
“I turned and saw the horseshoe, on the counter by the sink. That was where I’d left it. It should be on the back door, but it was in the kitchen. That meant… something could be in the flat.”
Blackbird was silent while Claire gathered herself. “I took it with me, intending to put it back, I suppose. I went quietly to where the fire exit is, and he was there.”
“Who?”
I don’t know!” She calmed herself, lowering her voice. “I don’t know. I saw a dark figure. I just reacted. I lashed out.”
“You hit hi
m?”
“With the horseshoe,” said Claire. “It was in my hand.”
“You punched him with it?”
“I don’t remember. It was instinctive. He went down – collapsed in the passage like he’d been poleaxed. I panicked. He shouldn’t have been there. He was in my flat! I didn’t know what to do.” She was clasping and unclasping her hands. “I ran into the kitchen. I was in shock. I’ve never done anything like that before. I was afraid. You must understand.”
“Understand what?” asked Blackbird.
“I stabbed him.” Her face went white. Her hands started to shake.
“You did what?” said Blackbird.
“He was lying in the passage, out cold.” Claire’s words were soft, but she was close to breaking. “I look one of the kitchen knives and stabbed him through the heart.”
“A kitchen knife?”
“I had this idea. The Feyre, they… when they die they vanish. I don’t know how, but it says so in the journals. It crossed my mind – if I killed him he would go back to wherever he came from.”
“Not quite the truth,” said Blackbird.
“Only he didn’t die! He wasn’t one of them! He was just a guy who was breaking into my flat. The blood just welled up out of his chest. He was real, and I killed him.”
Blackbird sighed. “We’re all real, Claire. The Feyre bleed and hurt, just the way you do.”
“Only he wasn’t fey!” said Claire. “He just lay there, bleeding! I’m going to have to turn myself in,” she said. “I can’t go on. I can’t live like this, not as a fugitive.”
“There’s no body,” said Blackbird.
There was a moment’s silence. Then Claire said, “What?”