The Eighth Court

by Mike Shevdon

  Fionh had objected to my being tested in the first place, claiming that I was not ready for a Warder’s greys. Frankly, I had agreed with her, and said so, but it was not my decision or hers. It was Garvin’s.

  I’d felt the cooling in my relationship with Garvin. I’d let him pressure me into action, sometimes for reasons I could not fathom, because I thought he had my best interests at heart. As it turned out, he’d been thinking I was betraying him at every turn, and intent on discovering why and how. Blackbird had said not to trust him, interpreting the wariness to some treachery on his part. Now that we knew who the traitor was, it made obvious sense. Fionh had been the Warder the courts trusted most. She had been present for more of their discussions – more even than Garvin. She was their conduit, their confidante, and had been given access to all their secrets.

  There was a bitter irony in that betrayal, not just because she’d been the most trusted, but because she had maintained her loyalty in her own twisted way while secretly betraying the mongrel fey to the Seventh Court.

  “I thought I might find you here.” Garvin stood in the open doorway.

  “I just needed a little space to think,” I said.

  “Can I disturb you?”

  “Sure.”

  He came and sat facing me across the fireplace, and for a while he said nothing.

  “I was thinking about Fellstamp, and about Fionh,” I said.

  “They are foremost in all our thoughts,” said Garvin.

  “It seems that at least some of this can be laid at my door – mine and Blackbird’s.”

  “I’m not blaming anyone,” said Garvin, “Except perhaps Fionh. If I’d known that she felt that way then perhaps I would have been able to accommodate her elsewhere.” He sighed heavily. “No, I’m kidding myself. If I’d have known, then I would have been forced to strip her of Warder status. I can’t have Warders choosing their own sides and playing one off against another – she knew that.”

  “She was right about one thing. We’ve brought you nothing but trouble,” I said.

  “If that’s true, and I’m not saying it is, then it is trouble of our own making. We set off down this road because it was what we had to do. I came to apologise.”

  “What for?”

  “For not trusting you. For failing to recognise the treachery where it lay. For assuming that you were the traitor.”

  “It was an obvious conclusion,” I said.

  “And one exploited by Fionh to sow the seeds of doubt in my mind. When I think back… she used my own prejudice against me.”

  “It’s where we are most vulnerable,” I acknowledged, “and she was ever one to exploit a weakness.”

  “So she was.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked him.

  “Now? I’m going to go and tell the Lords and Ladies that the Warders are down to five. I’m going to tell them that their confidences may not be as secret as they would wish, and that the fault is mine. I’m going to offer my resignation.”

  “Resign? Why?”

  “In these circumstances, it’s the right thing to do. The Warders have failed them, and it’s my responsibility. I was blind-sided and I should have known. That has led to the Warders going from seven to five. We are weakened and our enemies are all around us.”

  “Perhaps that was our enemy’s intent. You don’t think they’ll accept your resignation, do you?”

  “I don’t know what they’ll do,” he admitted. “These are strange times, Niall.”

  “If you go, I’ll go too,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I’m offering my resignation, but it’s up to them to decide, Niall. I swore an oath to serve until they release me from service, as did you. It’s not up to me whether I go. The same applies to you. You can’t resign.”

  “What will the Warders be without you, Garvin?”

  “That,” he said, “is not for me to say.” He stood and offered his hand, which is a gesture of profound trust amongst the Feyre where a touch can be an opportunity to exercise power over another.

  I took his hand and held it for a moment. “I’m sorry about Fellstamp – about both of them.”

  “Me too,” he said, releasing my hand and straightening his jacket.

  As he left the room, I called after him, “Good luck.”

  The problem was, I thought luck had very little to do with it.

  FOURTEEN

  I was waiting for Blackbird when she returned from the meeting of the High Court. “I have something to tell you,” I told her.

  “Garvin just explained,” she said. “We all need time to think through the implications. None of us openly suspected Fionh, and we’re now all wondering who knew and who didn’t. It was a surprise, I think, for most of us.” She unzipped her dress and stepped out of it, hanging it carefully on the waiting hanger. “I wish I believed it was a surprise for all of us.”

  “Is Garvin still Head of the Warders?” I asked.

  “For now. He’s offered his resignation, but the High Court hasn’t accepted it. They’ve asked for time to consider the matter, which would probably be the right thing to do if we had time. The trouble is, I don’t think we do.”

  “So what happens in the meantime?” I asked.

  “Nothing. That’s the problem. Garvin asked the same question, and the answer was far from clear. They’ve asked for time, and he has no choice but to grant them all they want.”

  “Without Garvin, the Warders are leaderless,” I pointed out.

  “I never thought I’d hear myself say this,” said Blackbird, “but we need Garvin. There isn’t anyone else who can ensure the safety of the courts, and the idea of choosing a successor is ludicrous. Who will take his place? Amber? Slimgrin? Tate’s a great Warder, but he’s a follower, not a leader, and you’re just not ready for that kind of role.”

  She didn’t say it unkindly, but she saw my face fall. “I’m only stating facts, Niall. You are coming to terms with life as a Warder, but you’re not ready to lead. You don’t have the experience, or the confidence of the other Warders or the High Court, and you know it. The trouble is, I don’t think anyone else does either.”

  She slipped into her skirt and top, and used the mirror to reorganise the tangled curls of her hair.

  “Anyway,” I said. “That wasn’t what I meant when I said I had something to tell you.”

  “There’s something else? I think I’ve had my share of surprises for one day, don’t you? What now?” she asked. “Alex has disappeared again? More new arrivals? Another disaster to clean up?”

  “I went to see Kareesh.”

  She put the dress away. “Did you take her anything? Not boiled sweets, I hope.”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  “If she doesn’t want to see you Niall, you mustn’t take it personally. What did you want from her anyway?”

  “You’re missing the point. I went to see her and she’d gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “I don’t know. Neither does Gramawl.”

  That got her attention. “I don’t understand. She never goes anywhere without Gramawl. I don’t think she’s capable of going anywhere without him.”

  “It seems that may be a misconception,” I pointed out gently.

  She shook her head. “You’ve made a mistake. She probably in one of her moods. She’s being difficult. She can be like that for days.”

  “She’s not there. It’s deserted. Gramawl is waiting in the tunnels waiting for her return. I don’t think he knows what else to do.” I told her what I’d found at the top of the stairway, and my limited conversation with Gramawl.

  She sat down on the bed heavily. “But where could she go?” asked Blackbird. “There isn’t anywhere.”

  “She’s gone somewhere,” I said. “Maybe we can send out a message, you know, ask around, get people to look out for her?”

  “It won’t do any good,” said Blackbird. “If Gramawl can’t find her then no one else is going to be
able to. I can’t understand why she’d do that to him.”

  I sat down on the bed next to her. “Gramawl seems to think that she’s going somewhere he can’t follow.” I said it as gently as I could. “He’s so much younger than she is – more vital.”

  “She wouldn’t leave him, would she?” she said. “Not like that.”

  I held her against me and she passed her arms around my waist and rested her head against my shoulder as if the world were heavy on her shoulders. I stroked her hair and tried to ease the burden, knowing that whatever I could do would not be enough.

  After a while, we went down and collected the baby from Lesley, who was talking with Mullbrook in the Kitchen. The baby held his arms out to Blackbird to be picked up and then sat on her lap and played with her hair while she explained what had happened with Fionh. I think Mullbrook already knew, but he listened patiently, perhaps gaining some insight from Blackbird’s own perspective. Then Mullbrook asked her about the naming ceremony, which I hadn’t had chance to mention to her, and it came out that Lesley and I had been discussing it. I thought she would be cross with me for planning something without her, but she was OK about it, making suggestions and acknowledging that it was time our son had a name.

  “You’ve chosen a name?” Lesley asked me. “Don’t tell me what it is, but you have chosen one, yes?”

  “We haven’t really thought about it,” I said. Blackbird looked strangely shifty, suddenly, for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

  “You do know it’s your choice?” said Lesley, glancing at Blackbird.

  “Traditionally, a daughter is named by the mother,” said Mullbrook, “and a son is named by the father. You may choose not to follow such traditions…” His tone said he would much rather we did.

  “You didn’t tell me it was my choice,” I said to Blackbird.

  “I’m sure I must have mentioned it at some point,” she said, her words jarring to my sensitive ear. “I’m sure I told you that we don’t name our children until they reach six months,” she said. “I possibly neglected to mention who gets to choose the name.”

  I gave her a long look.

  “I would have told you,” she said. “I’ve been busy.”

  I sat down. “So I get to choose? Can I ask around for ideas, or does it have to be done by me alone?”

  “You may consult with whomever you choose,” said Mullbrook, “but the final say is yours alone. Perhaps a family name might be nice?” he suggested.

  “My Dad’s name is Marcus,” I said.

  “I went to bed with a Marcus, once,” said Blackbird. “He had golden hair all the way down to…”

  “Maybe not Marcus, then.” I said, giving her a stern look. I tried to figure out whether she was winding me up, but her words at least were true.

  “Stephen’s a nice name,” Lesley suggested.

  “I’m not keen on Stephen.” I said.

  “I think what Lesley was trying to tell you,” said Blackbird, “is that Stephen is Mullbrook’s name.”

  “Ah,” I said. “I didn’t mean…”

  “No matter,” said Mullbrook. “As I said, the choice is yours, but also the responsibility. You must choose a name that will suit your son, that he will carry with pride and honour, and that he will thank you for in years to come.”

  “No pressure, then?” I said. Lesley and Blackbird exchanged a look that was too brief to interpret. “Are you two plotting something?”

  Blackbird shook her head innocently, while Lesley shared a smile with Mullbrook.

  “I quite fancy something different,” I said, “something distinguished. What about Julius?”

  “A fine idea,” said Blackbird. “Then we can call him Julie for short.”

  “Are you intending to torpedo every suggestion I make?” I asked her.

  “If we don’t call him Julie,” she said, “the other children will.”

  “What other children?” I asked her.

  Again, there was a look that passed between Lesley and Blackbird. What was going on between these two? “You’re not pregnant again, are you?” I asked Blackbird. She shook her head, but it wasn’t quite a no. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked her.

  “I am,” said Lesley.

  “You are what?” I asked her.

  “Pregnant,” she said.

  For a moment my mouth fell open, and then I recovered and kissed her cheek and told her what delightful news that was.

  “Dave and I have been keeping it a secret, but as soon as it starts to show, everyone will know, I suppose.”

  “Dave?” I said. I felt a kick under the table while Blackbird looked entirely innocent. “He’s a lovely guy,” I said, realising I had strayed into potentially hazardous territory. “I’m delighted for both of you.”

  My son stretched out his arms to me, wanting to be part of whatever was happening, and it gave me an excuse to recover myself and lift him from Blackbird, sitting him in my arms where he could see what was going on. “So Lesley was suggesting we might need stewards for the Eighth Court,” I remarked to Mullbrook, “though we’re a little ahead of ourselves perhaps?”

  “It often pays to plan ahead,” said Mullbrook. In the periphery of my vision, Lesley was giving me meaningful looks while trying to avoid catching Mullbrook’s eye.

  “It’s up to Blackbird, of course,” I said to Mullbrook, “but I wondered if there was anyone you might recommend we should talk to?” I felt another kick on my ankle, but from the opposite direction. In this case I ignored it.

  The faintest of smiles crossed Mullbrook’s lips, and vanished so quickly that I wondered if it had been there at all. “Well,” he said, “there are one or two names that come to mind, but you must understand that it would be a great loss to the courts. That kind of person would be very difficult to replace. We might need to go through a long selection and appointment process, and then there would be a handover, and maybe after five or six years…”

  “Years?” said Lesley.

  “Unless there’s someone who would be willing to take on such duties who happened to be willing – someone I trust implicitly who has both the confidence of the courts and of Blackbird herself?” The smile played across his lips again.

  She glanced between Blackbird and Mullbrook. “You’re teasing me,” she said to him.

  “In part,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not serious too. It is a big commitment, and you have a baby on the way. You may want to consider whether this is the right time?”

  “There’ll never be another chance like this,” she said.

  “I find that at my age, Lesley, never is a word I hardly use at all,” he said. “Take some time to consider it carefully. There will be other opportunities in due course, I’m sure, and if you decide that it’s too much to take on at once then that can be accommodated. The important thing is to make the right decision.” He laid his hand over hers and gave her a warm smile and a nod. “There’s no rush.”

  “I think I’ve already decided,” she said, glancing between Blackbird and Mullbrook. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, but I didn’t know how to ask.”

  “Let’s take that as a statement of intent,” said Blackbird, “and sleep on it. In the morning we will go to Grey’s Court and see what we can see.” She took out a large bronze key and held it up, turning it so that it caught the light in a dull gleam. “If you would like to come with me, Lesley, I would value your thoughts?”

  She smiled. “I’d be delighted.”

  “I’ll come too,” I said.

  “I was thinking you might do a spot of baby-sitting,” said Blackbird. “Spend some quality time with your son?”

  “I will spend some time with him,” I said, “but I think it would be a good idea if someone went with you to Grey's Court. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something…”

  “We are not in a position to look gift horses in the mouth,” said Blackbird.

  “Yes,” I agreed, “but gift hor
ses do have a habit of kicking you just when you least expect it, don’t they?”

  “I’m not taking the baby with us,” said Blackbird. “We don’t know what sort of state it’s in. It could be a ruin.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Alex to look after him for a few hours. She’ll be OK with that.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Blackbird

  “Did I miss something?” I asked.

  “She’s actually been very helpful,” said Lesley. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

  “There you are then,” I said to Blackbird. The look she gave me said she was sceptical as to whether it would continue.

  Alex was quite pleased with herself. It had been surprisingly easy to find out which room was Tate’s. A few offers to help here, a bit of assistance there, and with a little gentle prompting, people would chatter away to you about all sorts of things. It had all been so easy. Now she was approaching his room, she could feel her resolve faltering. This had been a great idea when she’d been back in her own space, but outside his door it was a different matter.

  All she had to do was talk to him about it. It was probably accidental – he probably didn’t even know he was doing it. All she had to do was fix things between them, and she would be gone – no hurt, no foul. She could be grown up about it, and she was sure he could too. Even so, she stepped lightly, knowing it would do her no good because he would hear her anyway.

  She tapped lightly on the door, her stomach squirming into knots. She mustn’t be tongue-tied. She must be confident, assertive and straight. At the same time she prayed there would be no answer. She tapped again louder. No one answered. OK, if he wasn’t there she couldn’t talk to him. She turned away, but then hesitated. What if it wasn’t accidental? What if he had some charm, or talisman that was doing this to her?