Phineas was frowning. ‘Every claimant to the throne so neatly removed. Dead, as far as he knew, for was that not the intention behind Wodebean and Tyllanthine’s plans? With king, queen and princesses dead or otherwise disposed of — all save Tyllanthine, who he thought to be his own creature — then was the moment to reveal himself, to make an attempt upon the throne. Yet, he did not.’
‘I wonder,’ mused Ilsevel. ‘Did he suspect such a trap? Had he reason to imagine himself tricked?’
‘Perhaps. Or perhaps something befell him.’
‘They say he is coming back,’ said Ilsevel. ‘Wodebean believes it to be so. His supporters, long lost in the Torpor, are waking up again. They are looking for him.’
‘Hence the hurry to revive the queen.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why… how are they coming out of this Torpor?’
‘That is not known. But it is not just our enemies. Many of our friends chose the Long Sleep, too, or were forced into it, and they are also returning. They do not know what has drawn them to wakefulness.’
Phineas stood in silent thought. They had paused on the edge of Castle Square; a drizzle of rain came down, beading Phineas’s cap in drops of clear water and settling upon his nose. He paid it no heed. His eyes were far away, and Ilsevel wondered where his quick mind had taken him.
At last he said: ‘Where is Wodebean?’
‘Gone after his traders, he said. He seeks traces of Anthelaena’s wardrobe, and her jewels.’
Phineas merely nodded. ‘We need Mr. Balligumph,’ he decided. ‘And your sister Tyllanthine.’
‘Balligumph?’ said Ilsevel in surprise. ‘Is he, too, awakened?’
‘I do not think he was ever asleep. He talks as though he has been guarding the Tilby toll-bridge these many years, and he knows a great deal.’
‘To Tilby, then? I cannot imagine where my sister is got to.’
Phineas began to walk again, but in an altered direction. He paced now towards the soaring shape of the cathedral, shrouded in rain and looming against the cloud-darkened sky. ‘Let us put that aside for the moment,’ he recommended. ‘Tyllanthine will return when she’s ready, perhaps bringing something useful. Just now, I want to talk to Balligumph.’
‘Then I do not know why you are going that way,’ said Ilsevel, quick to follow in spite of her words. ‘Did you not place him at Tilby?’
‘Usually, but he has been in the city a great deal, and that is where I last saw him.’ He passed under the cathedral gate and approached the west front, his chin tilted up as he scanned the golden limestone walls. ‘Mr. Tibs?’ he called.
A grotesque shape detached itself from an alcove above the door, and flowed to the ground in a ripple of shadow. ‘What is it?’ hissed a dark little voice.
‘Have you seen Mr. Balligumph today? I’ve need of him.’
‘He went in the direction of the Stairs, not two hours ago.’
Phineas smiled, and touched his hat. ‘Thank you.’
The knot of shadow gathered itself, and began to flow away.
‘One other question,’ said Phineas, and the shadows roiled to a stop. ‘The Queen’s Hoard. Have you ever heard any such report?’
‘Why, yes,’ said the voice of Mr. Tibs, with a dry chuckle. ‘Certainly I have.’
Chapter Eighteen
Phineas found Mr. Balligumph seated comfortably upon somebody’s doorstep, part way down the slope of the Greestone Stairs. He sat with his elbows upon his knees and his hat in his lap, intent upon the spot where Wodebean had contrived to vanish. A vast smile split his face when he saw Phineas and Ilsevel on the approach, and he got up to make a deep bow — to Ilsevel, Phineas reminded himself, though the troll seemed to include the baker’s boy in the gesture. ‘Phineas-me-lad!’ he said delightedly. ‘An’ Me Lady Silver! What a joy. I thought at least one o’ ye gone for good.’
‘For shame, sir,’ said Ilsevel, a smile in her voice. ‘There is not a man or woman alive, I am persuaded, who can match Mr. Drake for wit.’
‘Nor a hobgoblin, neither?’ answered Balligumph with a twinkle.
‘It appears not.’
Phineas, conscious of a flush creeping up his cheeks, thought it wisest to make no reply. Instead he said: ‘I had hoped to find you still in the city, sir. You did not come to any harm on account of that passage into the Hollows?’
‘Psh! No. What could harm a great lumberin’ fellow like me?’ His amiable grin flashed. ‘Though it did set me t’ thinkin’. Ye made it into Summer’s Hollow, did ye?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘And out again, by his wiles,’ put in Ilsevel.
‘Well, an’ I did not. Pesky thing landed me somewhere else altogether, and nowhere nearly so interestin’.’
‘Some other part of the Hollows?’ said Phineas, intent.
‘Aye, but wi’ no sight or sound of another soul. If it were ever much visited, it ain’t now. Nowt to see but trees.’
Phineas thought. ‘How was it that you came to escape, sir?’
‘I’ve me ways. Wodebean, now. Did the pair o’ ye get hold of him?’
Phineas gave the troll a quick account of his meeting with Wodebean, upon no part of which Balligumph chose to comment. He merely listened in silence, nodding thoughtfully.
Ilsevel added, when he had finished, ‘And do you want to know what happened to Anthelaena? Wodebean happened! And Tyllanthine. They poisoned her, and turned her into—’
‘A cat?’ interjected Balligumph. ‘Purple, and somewhat oversized? Aye. Ye’re not the only one t’ guess the identity o’ the one they call Felebre.’
Ilsevel, silenced, blinked. ‘That cannot be good,’ she said.
‘Not in the least. They are not wrong, yer sister an’ Wodebean, t’ feel it’s time sommat was done.’
‘We’ve need of much,’ said Ilsevel, grimly. ‘Anything and everything connected to Anthelaena as the queen, Balligumph. Velvet queen parasols, roses from her throne, every personal article of hers that’s still in existence—’
‘Aye.’
‘They are scattered across England, Aylfenhame and the Hollows.’
Balligumph nodded his great head, then set his hat back upon it with a purposeful air. ‘Ye aren’t minded t’ despair, now, I trust?’
‘Never,’ said Ilsevel. ‘But a vast task lies before us, and I hardly know where to begin.’
‘Yer sister Tyllanthine has made a beginnin’,’ Balligumph offered. ‘She’s off t’ the Goblin Markets.’
Ilsevel stared. ‘What?’
‘Ye saw fer yerself what’s become of Mirramay, no? Grunewald’s folk have quite taken it over, an’ if anybody’s had chance to pick over the palace, it’s them lot. Wodebean can try t’ catch ‘em if he likes, but he’s been gone too long. His people as was, they answer to Grunewald now, an’ Grunewald… well, even the Goblin King is no match fer Tyllanthine.’ Balligumph chuckled.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Ilsevel. Phineas, shocked by the coldness of her tone, glanced at her: her face was set, her lips a thin, tight line.
‘She’ll deal wi’ him. Anywho, if yer thinkin’ he’s a traitor, too, yer mistaken. Never had a thought t’ overthrowin’ Anthelaena, Grunewald. He had a treacherous sister wi’ some mighty fine skill at Glamour an’ a penchant fer pretendin’ t’ be him. Thas all.’
Ilsevel, silent, swayed a little in the wind, as though her knees declined to hold her. Phineas suppressed an urge to prop her up; she would not welcome the gesture. ‘Is no one as I thought them to be?’ she whispered.
‘Likely not, ma’am. But ye’ve staunch enough allies in Phineas an’ me. Thas enough t’ be goin’ on with, no?’ He smiled kindly at her, prompting a long sigh from the princess.
‘It is more than I had hoped for,’ she said.
‘Anyroad,’ continued Balligumph. ‘If Grunewald’s folk found anythin’ o’ Anthelaena’s still lingerin’ at Mirramay, I’ll wager His Majesty has it somewhere safe, an’ Tyllanthine will get hold o
f it. Things that were carried off an’ not given into His Majesty’s hands, well, they may turn up at the Market, an’ Tyllanthine will squirrel ‘em out. The two o’ ye an’ me, now, we must try another source.’
Ilsevel was frowning. ‘I wonder if it is a coincidence that Tylla chose Winter’s Hollow for me.’
‘Since it’s Tyllanthine, most likely not.’ Balligumph grinned. ‘What did ye learn from the trip?’
‘A great deal,’ said Ilsevel slowly. ‘I am not sure how it applies, yet, but perhaps it will.’
Balligumph looked at Phineas. ‘An’ Summer’s Hollow?’
‘Roses,’ said Phineas. ‘Wodebean’s been growing the Queen’s Roses down there.’
‘Ah! Good fellow!’ Balligumph clapped his great hands.
‘There are velvet queen parasols at Autumn’s Hollow,’ said Ilsevel. ‘And, Balligumph, those Hollows obey me. The way Mirramay used to.’
‘Better an’ better. Well then, what now?’
‘The Queen’s Hoard,’ said Phineas. ‘The thieves talk of it, and Mr. Tibs has heard tell of it. Somewhere under the Hill, they say, but how to get there?’
‘Wi’ gates takin’ us every which way,’ said Balligumph. ‘An’ wi’ no measure o’ reason?’
Phineas, his thoughts awash with disparate pieces of information, strove to make sense of them. There was a pattern somewhere within, of that he was convinced; some latent sense to the whole mess that would give him the answers he needed, if only he could find them.
For the present, he could not.
‘Mr. Tibs had a name,’ offered Phineas. ‘The thieves of England do not know it, but the fae-folk do. They call him Gilligold.’
Balligumph went still. ‘Gilligold?’ he echoed. ‘Tibs is certain of it?’
‘He claims so.’ Phineas did not add that Mr. Tibs had offered the name in a half-whisper, as though afeared of being overheard.
The troll took off his hat again, and twirled it between his hands. Then, to Phineas’s surprise, he uttered an oath, and jammed the hat back over his curls. ‘Ye’re right, milady,’ he said to Ilsevel. ‘We’ve some hard work ahead.’
‘I do not know that name,’ said Ilsevel. ‘Who or what is Gilligold?’
‘A myth,’ said Balligumph. ‘I ain’t heard tell o’ him for nigh on a hundred years. The richest fellow in all of Aylfenhame an’ England combined, or so they used t’ say. He lived deep in the Hollows, wi’ doors to everywhere an’ nowhere, and everythin’ that’s desirable could be found somewhere in his lands. If some household item went missin’ an’ was not t’ be found, folk used to say that Gilligold had got it.’
‘But he is real,’ said Phineas. ‘Is he not?’
‘If Tibs thinks it’s so, then I wouldn’t gainsay him.’ Balligumph heaved a great sigh, and straightened his shoulders. ‘He won’t be easy t’ find, an’ then there’s the little matter o’ gettin’ in. It’s said he has a pair of giants t’ guard the doors of his palace, an’ many a fiendish trick t’ keep folk away from his treasures.’
‘Giants,’ mused Ilsevel. ‘That’s as may be. But we have a princess, a baker and a bridge-keeper. How can we fail?’
It took Phineas a moment to understand that Lady Silver had spoken in jest. ‘I shall bake them into submission, shall I?’ he offered. ‘Like the plums in Jack Horner’s pie.’
Balligumph chuckled. ‘Not forgettin’ our church-Grim. Mr. Tibs is a knowin’ feller. Did he say owt about where Gilligold lives, Phineas?’
‘He believes it to be somewhere in the Hollows, sir, but could not say more than that. He, too, has heard nothing of him in many years. But…’
‘Yes, lad?’ Balligumph prompted.
Phineas pulled the brim of his cap lower over his eyes, for the chill rain was growing insistent. ‘If this Gilligold has been out of sight or hearing for so long as to be largely forgotten, how did he come by any of the queen’s possessions? And how came Mr. Tibs to hear of it? If Gilligold has not stepped out of his Hollows himself, then someone has stepped in.’
‘Someone who had access to the palace at Mirramay, in the months following Anthelaena’s apparent death,’ put in Ilsevel. ‘Or with contacts who did.’
‘There must be a way in,’ said Phineas. ‘And out again. And if only the fae-folk know the name of Gilligold, then it is someone of Aylfenhame who’s done it.’
‘I’d be inclined t’ say Wodebean,’ growled Balligumph. ‘Or someone like him. Except as he’s mentioned nothin’ of it t’ ye, an’ I cannot see why he would hide it, considerin’ his stated goals.’
‘Do we believe him?’ said Ilsevel coolly.
Balligumph made a back-and-forth motion with his hand. ‘There’s no sayin’, with such a fellow. But if he does know, he ain’t tellin’.’
‘I do not deal with Gilligold,’ came Wodebean’s dry, dark voice, and Phineas jumped. The hobgoblin had emerged from the Hollows again, and done it so soundlessly and so stealthily that none had noticed. ‘He cheats,’ added Wodebean.
‘So he is real?’ said Balligumph.
‘As real as I am. We were rivals, once.’ Wodebean’s habitual cloak shrouded his face; as ever, Phineas could detect nothing of his expression. ‘I won.’
‘And what became of him after?’ demanded the troll.
Wodebean did not precisely answer this question. ‘I would not be surprised if he does have some lackey chasing after trinkets on his behalf.’
Phineas gave a slight, diffident cough. ‘Forgive me, sir, but if he has succeeded in stealing most of the queen’s possessions out from under everyone’s noses, I would say this is the work of no mere lackey.’
The shadowy hood was turned in Phineas’s direction; the boy was studied, perhaps with little approval. ‘My absence must have been of service to him,’ said the hobgoblin.
‘Or her,’ put in Ilsevel.
Phineas frowned. ‘You are thinking of Tyllanthine again?’
‘Perhaps. What better way to keep Anthela’s things — and therefore, her life — safe but to arrange for them to pass into the hands of someone like Gilligold? Or,’ she amended, with a grimace, ‘to prevent Lady Gold’s ever being restored to life and limb, if that were her true goal.’
‘I doubt it,’ mused Balligumph. ‘It is easy t’ credit Tyllanthine wi’ too much, is it not? I have had word of her across half the city, lookin’ fer just such articles as we are interested in. It does not seem t’ me as she knows where they are gone to. An’ now she is at the Goblin Court… Wodebean. Who at the Court o’ Grunewald is capable of such feats?’
‘Me,’ said Wodebean.
Balligumph blinked at him. ‘Ye were never His Majesty’s subject.’
The dry voice turned faintly amused. ‘Was I not? I am of his people.’
‘True enough. Well — an’ did ye take the Queen’s Hoard t’ Gilligold?’
‘No.’
‘Then ye aren’t much use t’ us, are ye?’
‘But I could have. Do not waste your time at the Court; if there is aught to be learned there, Tyllanthine and I will find it out. Seek instead… the old ways.’
‘The old ways—’ Balligumph, spluttering in irritation, did not trouble to finish the sentence, for Wodebean had vanished as silently as he had arrived. ‘Hobgoblins,’ muttered the troll in disgust.
An idea formed in Phineas’s mind, but Ilsevel forestalled him. ‘The Hollows,’ she said. ‘They are suspended in time, are they not? Some of them?’
‘Tyllanthine said you had fallen through time,’ put in Phineas.
‘I was gone back some few decades,’ Ilsevel agreed. ‘More, belike, for the landscape knew me and did my bidding. It was as though Anthelaena and Edironal had never died.’
‘Nor have they,’ put in Balligumph. ‘Well — no sayin’ as t’ Edironal, t’ be fair.’
‘It was as though the King and Queen of old reigned still at Mirramay, and I, as the Queen’s second, were still afforded all my old authority. Ah, how I missed it!’
&n
bsp; ‘Perhaps the denizens of the Seasons’ Hollows know more of Gilligold,’ suggested Phineas.
‘Mr. Balligumph,’ said Ilsevel, turning to the troll. ‘You said, did you not, that the gate which took Phineas into Summer’s Hollow deposited you elsewhere?’
‘Aye.’
‘Then they are not fixed passageways; they are changeable. They can be changed.’
Balligumph gave her a quizzical look. ‘Perhaps, but by what arts?’
‘Why, by mine! Let us see if they will obey me.’
A hope flared in Phineas’s heart, though not unbalanced by doubt. ‘But you do not know where it is we must go,’ he pointed out. ‘How can you order yourself conveyed to an unnameable place?’
‘Somewhere in those Hollows is someone — or something — that knows of Gilligold. Be it Aylir or human, goblin or pixie, or, curse it, leaf, flower or tree, I will find it out, and it will answer to me.’
Ilsevel was a little terrifying in this mood, Phineas thought, eyeing her uneasily. But then, she was also magnificent. Her silver eyes shone with resolve, and the very wind seemed to collude to render her more splendid still, sending her pale hair tossing around her face as though with a power all its own.
Then again, considering the substance of My Lady Silver’s words, perhaps it was no mere seeming. Did even the winds of England recognise the faded power of the Court-at-Mirramay?
‘To Summer’s Hollow, then?’ Phineas croaked.
‘Yes,’ said Ilsevel decisively. ‘We must gather roses as we go, and the velvet queen parasols, and — oh, everything! Take me to the gate, Phineas.’
Suppressing a traitorous sensation of unease, Phineas offered the lady his arm, as though he were a gentleman himself. She took it with a nod, and not quite a smile.
Balligumph heaved himself to his feet, whistling an airy tune. ‘Will ye be requirin’ company, me lady? Elsewise I shall make enquiries among some other folk.’
Mr Drake and My Lady Silver Page 17