by Mike Shevdon
"It's still Saturday, isn't it?"
Blackbird pulled me down the stairs down to the corridor that led towards the street door. "I shouldn't have let you do that."
"But we're here, quicker than we would have been. Travelling on the Ways would have taken longer and been much more exhausting."
"You don't even know what day it is. What if we've missed the smith?"
"We can't have, can we?" I followed her along the darkened corridor to the heavy door leading to the street. I felt a tingling sensation as her power swept out around us so we could exit the door unnoticed. She pulled back the bolt and twisted the lock, pulling open the heavy door and letting me past before she followed me out onto the pavement. We stepped outside into the street and I waited while she locked the door behind us. Once the door was secure, she let the magic surrounding us dwindle away.
Cars were still rumbling down the Strand, though it was less busy than it had been when we were here before. A pale-skinned guy in a duffel-coat, marking him out as a student, was walking towards us. Blackbird stepped into his path.
"Excuse me, do you know the time, please?"
He paused in his path and glanced at his wrist. "It's just before eleven." His accent marked him as a West Coast American. "And it is Saturday, is it?" she asked him.
"Sure," he said. "It has been all day. Are you OK? "
"We're fine. Just making sure," she told him.
He stepped past and walked on, glancing back with a puzzled expression and then shrugged as if to acknowledge the strange eccentricities of the English. "We're in time," she acknowledged. "You see. I told you."
"Niall, tell me truthfully, before I asked that man, were you sure what day it was? Really?" I couldn't lie to her. "No. I suppose not."
"I shouldn't have assumed you knew what you were doing. We could have missed the whole thing. "
"It would have taken us almost as long to travel back on the Ways, especially if you take the walk into account. "
"Yes, but we could just as easily have ended up at next Tuesday and missed the ceremony."
"We didn't, though, did we?" It was what she would have said to me in the same circumstances.
Blackbird turned to me, exasperation on her face. "Do you know where the hospital is?"
"I have the name of the hospital. I think it's somewhere near Marylebone."
"Then perhaps we should get a taxi. A cab driver should know where it is."
"Won't that be uncomfortable?"
"We're not going very far and it's safer than other ways."
She stepped to the edge of the Strand and hailed a passing black cab. It pulled across the traffic and drew up alongside us. I named the hospital to the driver and he gave us a curt nod, so we piled into the back. The journey to the hospital took us down the deserted shopping streets, the lights still bright in the windows. As we came closer to our destination the shops gave out to offices and residential buildings. The cab turned left into a side street and pulled up by the kerb.
"Here ya go, mate." The driver announced our arrival. I paid him out of my diminishing cash and he rumbled away down the street. "There. That wasn't so terrible, was it?"
"No, but I'm going to need more money soon."
Trying to get more cash to bolster my diminishing reserves would be an interesting experiment, since I was sure if I used my cash card the police would know both where and when I had used it within minutes. They had already tried to track my phone, so the bank account would be the next logical step.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said. It was an acknowledgement that if we could get to the ceremony then we would need to start thinking about the longer term. It brought home to me how little I had left. My life was in tatters and I was hunted by both the Untainted and the police. Still, if the re-forging of the knife went badly then there wouldn't be any future for me to worry about. I needed to focus on the task in front of me and set the consequences aside for later in the hope that there would be a later.
"Claire said there was security at the hospital." I eyed the unguarded doorway as we approached, wondering what form that security might take.
"If they are on the alert for unexplained visitors and strange faces then we may have some difficulty reaching Claire, even allowing for the fact that I can make us less noticeable. We will need to know where they are in the hospital, though. "What do you suggest?"
"Why don't you go in and use your charm. It worked at the Royal Courts of Justice."
"Will you wait here?"
"Come back out here when you find out what's going on," she called after me.
I walked across and up the steps through the front entrance into the well-lit reception. There were closed doors leading off to left and right at the back and a desk in the centre.
"Can I help you?" The middle aged lady sat behind the desk would look more at home in a corporate reception than a hospital.
"Yes, I hope so. I'm hoping to meet up with one of the visitors here. Her name is Claire Radisson. She's the clerk to the Queen's Remembrancer? I believe he's been admitted here and she's here with him. Would it be possible to see her?"
"I am afraid his visitors are restricted," she told me. "I'm actually here to see the clerk, rather than the patient himself, but it's quite difficult to contact her while her mobile is switched off in the hospital," I explained. "I need to collect some things and I understand she's been here since he was admitted. It's quite urgent." I stressed the urgent part. "What name is it, please?"
I used the name I had used when visiting the Royal Courts. "It's Dobson, Niall Dobson."
She consulted a list in front of her. "Is there anyone with you, Mr Dobson?"
"I have a friend with me. She's waiting outside."
"And her name is?" she prompted.
"Delemere. Veronica Delemere."
"Ah yes, Ms Radisson had left instructions that she was to be informed when you arrived. I'll let her know you're here. If you would care to wait for a moment."
She picked up the phone and indicated the chairs to either side of the reception area.
I thanked her, but went back past the chairs and out to where Blackbird waited. Walking from the well-lit reception out into the dusk, it was hard to locate her. I jumped when she tapped me on the shoulder. "Don't do that."
There was a prickling of the skin as the delicate threads of Blackbird's magic wrapped around us while she drew me out of the light and into the shadows beside the doorway. "Is something wrong?" I asked her.
"Maybe, maybe not. If that receptionist is expecting us then maybe others are too."
"How did you know she was…?" Then I realised what she'd done. "You were in there with me."
"I followed you in unobtrusively. I wanted to see what happened."
"You could have told me."
"If I had told you then you would have looked for me.
You might have given me away."
"I wouldn't have."
"You wouldn't be able to help yourself. As it was, you acted normally and I was able to take a quick peek at her notepad while she was dealing with you. "
"You were behind her?"
"They are up on the fourth floor. There's a note for her to call suite four fifty-two when we arrive. That must be where they are. "
"Then let's go and find them. "
"I don't like going where I am expected."
"You think it could be a trap? I don't think Claire would be involved in anything like that."
"She may not be running things. If the police are involved then who knows what may be waiting for us. Come on." She walked away down the street. "Where are we going? "
"To find another entrance."
We walked around the side of the building and onto a side street. About three quarters of the way down the street there was an access ramp, big enough for the hospital laundry trucks. It led down into an area under the hospital which was blocked by a metal grid that rolled down from above. During the day when
they were expecting deliveries it was probably rolled up, but now it sealed the ramp from the outside world.
There was a box on the wall with a circular grill and button to speak to a remote station. The entrance had two cameras monitoring it, one pointing at the box and another scanning back and forth along the entry ramp in an automated cycle.
Blackbird paused and then walked towards the shutter. The prickling of her magic intensified. "Stick close to me."
We approached the wall box and she placed her hand upon it. There was a grinding squeak and the barrier began to rise.
"Don't you just love technology?" she smiled. "Years ago I would have had to get someone to come and let us in. Now we can do everything remotely. "
"Won't the security people see us on the cameras? "
"They won't be looking this way. No one will see anything."
The barrier rolled down again behind us as we walked down the ramp. It opened out into a delivery bay with various doors into the hospital and three big roll-down shutters on loading ramps. They were all closed up and presumably locked. There was a bell-push next to one of the doors marked "Deliveries – Please Ring. "
"What now?" I asked her. It looked to me as if we had just trapped ourselves down here, but that was probably just my inexperience.
"Well, we could go through one of these doors, but we don't know which way to go when we get inside."
"So what do we do?"
"We ring the bell."
She walked over to the button and pushed it.
"I thought we didn't want anyone to know we were here."
"No, we just don't want the people who are expecting us to know we're here."
"I don't see–"
The door opened and a bemused looking porter stood in the doorway. He looked Mediterranean in origin, Portuguese maybe.
"What are you doing out here? There is not supposed to be anyone out here at this time of day." Blackbird turned to him.
"Ah, I'm so sorry. We're new here. I'm Veronica."
She stuck out her hand and smiled and the bemused man accepted it into his. As soon as she touched him his face went blank. Then he blinked and looked at us again.
"We don't usually have inspections on a Saturday night. Is there a problem?" he said.
"No, there's no problem. You know how it is, you get behind and you end up working all hours to catch up. "
"Tell me about it. You'd better come through, then. Bring your colleague."
I followed Blackbird through the door and we waited while the man locked it again.
"We're going to the fourth floor today," she told him. "Yes? You'd better use the service lift then. It's just down there on the right. You'll need a key. "
"May we borrow yours? "
"Sure. I can come with you if you like?"
"No, it's OK. We'll be fine." He pulled a ring of keys from his belt and eased off one with a yellow tag at tached to it, handing it to Blackbird.
"Thank you. We appreciate it."
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything."
He walked away down the corridor, unconcerned that he'd just let two complete strangers into the hospital and given them his lift key. We walked in the opposite direction, finding a service lift with wide doors.
"Is that what you did to me, in Trafalgar Square, that first morning?"
"Same gift, different application."
"What does he think he's doing?" I asked her.
"I'm really not sure, he was just being helpful. You'd have to ask him for the details. I created a reality for him where we were a normal part of his routine. I created just enough so he would believe it and then let him fill in the gaps. It's much more convincing if you let people do the hard work for themselves. "
"So he thinks we come here every day?"
"Or often enough to make it unremarkable. He'll remember it in the same way he remembers what he had for lunch or what time he got into work. Not enough to make it stand out."
We came to the service lift and Blackbird pressed the button to summon the lift. A red light indicated that it was coming.
"So, in theory, I could still be having coffee with you in Trafalgar Square. All this could be a reality you created for me. Is that right?"
"In theory, yes, though if you start down that road then you'll never figure out what's real."
The lift doors juddered apart making a grinding noise that did not inspire confidence. Blackbird stepped inside and inserted the key, turning it to the priority setting. I followed her in and she pressed the button for the fourth floor. The door stuttered closed behind me.
"But this could be all in my head, like a dream." The lift jerked into motion.
"Your world is always in your head, Niall. It's the only world you will ever know. If you start to question everything you see then you are undermining your own foundations."
"But you can make me believe whatever you want. "
"The further it gets from reality, the harder it becomes. Small changes are easy. That is what glamour does. It alters the perceptions of those around us to make them see us differently. It makes them perceive us as we want to be perceived. What I do is an extension to that, but it is fundamentally the same. "
"So how do I know I'm not dreaming?"
"You don't. None of us ever do. All that we see or seem–"
"Shakespeare?"
"He knew what he was talking about. Everyone creates their own reality, Niall. It's just that the Feyre are better at it."
The lift jerked and shook and then halted, the doors sliding open on a hallway.
She strolled out, her power sweeping before her, making us unremarkable. It was late and all the visitors were gone for the night, but the nurses and medical staff didn't look at us twice. There were porters with trolleys and cleaners polishing the floors. None of them gave us a second glance.
At a hallway junction, a lone police officer watched where the three corridors converged. Blackbird smiled at him as we passed and he nodded distractedly in acknowledgment. The way he casually glanced away told me he wouldn't have any recollection of our passing.
The hospital had helpfully numbered all of the rooms, so finding suite four fifty-two was just a matter of following the sequence until we reached our goal. When the numbers came close it was obvious we had found it, because of the two policemen hanging around the nursing station at the junction where the corridor to the private suites branched off from the main walkway. They were engaged in casual conversation with the medical staff, but instead of facing the people they were talking to, they watched the corridors. These officers were more vigilant, since the one facing us was taking notice of our approach. As we came nearer, though, a breeze sprang out of nowhere, flipping papers from the desk and strewing them around. The officer went to hold down a pile of sheets next to him only to have them whirl up around him. In a moment, they were all engaged in trying to hold down the flying sheets. We walked on past and I waited for one of them to call us back, but no one did.
"You could get anywhere like that," I told her. "You could steal the crown jewels or raid the Bank of England."
"And why," she asked me, "would I want to do that? "
"But you could have anything you wanted."
She turned in front of me and brought me to a halt, her hand resting on my chest. The numbers on the doors showed we were close, now.
She looked up into my face. "I have what I need, Niall, and I don't want for much more than that. The things I do want, though, can't be bought or stolen. They must be given freely."
For a moment there was something in her eyes that reminded me of the conversation we'd had over breakfast that morning and, for once, it was she who looked away.
"Blackbird?" I asked. "What are we going to do?"
She chose to interpret my question in the immediate, rather than the general sense.
"We're going to find the Remembrancer and see if we can help. What else can we do?"
She turned back to th
e doors and counted down the numbers towards room four fifty-two.
When I realised she wasn't going to wait for me, I followed.
Twenty-Three
Blackbird led the way down the corridor towards the suite that held the Queen's Remembrancer. She stopped at a door half-glazed with frosted glass. "Here it is."
She turned the knob and eased the door open, peeking around the jamb, and then opened it more fully to allow us both into the room.
There was a white-framed hospital bed, head against one wall. A heart monitor sat silent on the far side, a jagged green line tracing the pulse of the man on the bed. He looked sallow, eyes closed, the lines on his face etched into the skin. Beside the bed, a thin young woman with tied back auburn hair looked as if she'd been startled awake by our entrance. She pushed loose strands of hair back from her face in an unconscious gesture. Another woman, sitting with her back to us, much older than the first, turned to us, her worried expression turning to mistrust when she realised we were not medical staff.