by Mike Shevdon
This was different. I pressed forward again and had the immediate sense that the tide had changed. If I didn't leave right now, I would be trapped. I looked behind me. Was the water closer? Were the waves coming higher up the beach? I looked back at the rocks. The cliff face leaned over me, hanging unsupported. A strong wave would bring the whole cliff down, sliding and crashing into the surf, burying anything in its path under tons of soil and stones.
The last time I encountered a warding this strong had been in the Royal Courts of Justice. The Shade Solandre had left a foreboding, a sense that there was danger waiting for whoever entered. It had been left to keep away the security guards and as a distraction from the real peril that awaited there. She had not remained to guide it, so I was able to overcome it by embracing the creeping unease, holding it up to examination and recognising it for what it was – a baseless fear.
The way this warding shifted and altered, seeking to exploit my fears and find the cracks in my confidence, meant that there was someone giving it intention, someone with power. As I pressed against it, recognising it for what it was, the reaction would warn them that I was here. They would feel me pushing the boundary, testing their strength. The umbrella in my hand became a sword.
I pressed in, clambering over the rocks, following the stream of power. Great slabs of stone lent each other support, tumbled and tilted after some great collapse. The gaps between were deeper darkness, slimy with seaweed and treacherous underfoot. My mind conjured sharp-clawed crabs and poison-barbed spiny urchins. I rejected those too, easing under the arch of rock into the space beyond, finding a smooth cleft in the rockface, softly luminous with algae where the stream emptied out under the rocks. The warding was intense now, leaving me sweating and claustrophobic as I squeezed through a shallow dip into the gap. The narrow gash of stone clenched around me so that with only a minuscule shrug the earth would grind me up and spit me out. I felt the beginnings of that shrug, the initial trembling in the earth before the quake that would grind one face against the other, chewing me between granite teeth, and then it was gone.
The cave was a tall arch, smooth-sided and worn to the touch, buttressed by pillars of striated stone. The rock floor was gently dished with the stream running through a net of intricate grooves cut deep, so that the water babbled and tinkled beneath my feet. A soft glow filled the space, lit from hollow niches scooped from the wall. In each niche was a skull, human size, bare teeth glinting in the light from the rock behind, eye sockets bearing empty witness. The skulls looked old, the bone yellow and waxy in the diffuse light, the pate parchment-thin. I drew the sword from the scabbard, slowly, silently.
I started counting the grisly trophies as I followed the meandering stream back into the cave. At twentysomething I had to slide between two pillars. I squeezed through, holding the sword unsheathed in one hand, the scabbard in the other behind me, ready to fend off any ambush, but found only more eyeless masks to mark my progress. Ahead, the rock overhead dipped, the roof running into stalactite dribbles between long teeth of stone, open like a maw. The atmosphere felt damp here, and there was a slow dripping. Through the maw, a night-black pool opened out under an upturned bowl of swirled stone. Drips from the roof created expanding circles in the mirror surface, reflecting the ring of glowing grins from the niches spaced around the pool. The skulls looked newer here, the brow-bones white and gleaming.
"You are unwanted here." The voice came from beyond the pool – the dark, the water and the rock making it difficult to pinpoint the source.
"The warding gives that impression."
"You bring bare steel and expect a welcome?"
I slid the sword slowly back into the sheath, holding it ready. I could draw it if I needed to. "Is that better?"
"Improved. Now it is only marred by your presence. Remove that and my equanimity will return."
"Do you make all your guests so welcome?"
"You are not my guest, Warder."
"Or do you let them stay only as long as they light your domain?" I swung my arm out, following the ring of lights from empty eye-sockets.
"Do the Warders involve themselves with trifles now? Is the business of the High Court so dull that the Lords and Ladies must concern themselves with me? What have I done to draw such attention?"
"That's a good question. What have you done?"
"Me? I have kept my promise, that's what I've done. I kept my word. It is for others to keep theirs."
"And what promise is it that you keep?"
"Four times score, times score again. Where are their promises now? Where are they? Faithless, feckless, feeble scum, worth naught but the ground they grub in. A few toys, a few trinkets and they're lost. Well, they're reaping a just harvest now, aren't they?"
"Are they?"
"Leave, Warder. Leave and do not return. There is nothing for you here. Just hollow bones and hollow promises. An empty harvest."
"Where are the girls? What have you done with them?"
"The girls? Ah, yes, the girls. Maids, mothers and daughters. See them arrayed around you, proof of a bargain sealed and kept. But there must be another, and soon! It is time!"
"No more. That's enough." I drew the sword, letting the blade ring. "You may not have another."
"Fool! Let's see you sharpen your steel with water and stone. Then see how keen you become."
There was a slithering sucking sound and the water bulged momentarily, ripples spreading from the opposite side of the pool out towards me. I braced my feet, readying my stance, expecting a lunge from the water. The ripples bounced from the edge and reflected. Then a low rumbling shivered through the rock. The grinding of great stones vibrated through the floor. The pool shivered and bulged, then exploded in a great fount of white water. My feet were swept out from under me and I was skimming backwards, slithering in the wild water. I slammed against the twin pillars and the water pressed against me until I was squeezed through the gap. I struggled to hold my sword as I was bounced between the smooth walls, feeling it score down the rock. The water crashed into the crevice and I was thrown up and out, popped like a cork, to thump heavily into the shingle under a stream of spray, my scabbard and sword still in hand.
Garvin would have been proud.
A low chuckle greeted me as I slowly sheathed the sword and rolled over, testing for breaks and bruises.
"Dogstar, you look a little flushed." It was Raffmir.
"Very funny." Nothing was broken and I was used to the bruises.
"I see that you are enhancing the reputation of the Warders, even as we speak."
"What are you doing here?" I looked around but he was alone. "Weren't you supposed to have an escort?"
"My diplomatic liaison appears to be unable to follow where I lead, but I'm sure someone will arrive in due course. However, I thought I would take the opportunity to speak discreetly. I must apologise. I hadn't expected to find you bathing, and fully dressed too." He smiled and offered me his hand.
I waved him away and stood, pushing myself unsteadily to my feet on the shifting shingle. "What do you want, Raffmir?"
"If it's a bad time, I can come back later. Perhaps you hadn't finished your ablutions?"
"Just… say what you came to say. You didn't come here to give me marks on style and presentation."
"Hmm, presentation. Is that weed in your hair?"
I brushed sand into my hair, trying to remove the weed, before realising that there was no weed. "Very funny. Am I keeping you? Is there someone else who would appreciate your banter, someone with a more childish sense of humour, perhaps?"
"I can think of no one for whom it would be more appropriate, but I didn't come to comment on the weakness of your tactics, I came to offer my help."
"Your help? Doing what? Are you volunteering for the Warders?"
"Not as a Warder, no. I wanted to offer my personal assistance with the difficulties you're having."
"Difficulties?"
"Your daughter. I believe you may have m
isplaced her."
"Why would you think that?" I didn't want Raffmir anywhere near my daughter, even though he was sworn not to harm her.
"Is she not lost, then? Do you have her secreted safely somewhere?"
"I'm not sure where she is," I told him, being careful to speak only the truth, "but that's not unusual. She has her own life."
"All's well, then." The sardonic smile appeared on his lips. "But if you do happen to lose track of her, then my offer of assistance still stands." He made to leave, walking back along the beach.
"Why would I come to you for assistance, Raffmir? I told you before, you don't have anything I want."
He paused in his walk across the shingle, and spoke without turning back, his voice almost drowned out by the sibilant crash of the waves.
"Dear boy, because I am the only one who can show you how to reach her."
He walked away into the dark. I stumbled after him, my feet sliding on the loose stones underfoot. "You know where she is. Where is she, Raffmir? Where have they taken her?"
I ran after him, following the track just above the tide where the ground was more solid. It was no use. He'd gone. My words found an empty beach. I willed the sword to be an umbrella again and scrambled my way back up the incline, covered in grit and sand, still soaked to the skin. The wind chilled me quickly and by the time I reached the road I was shivering, despite the warm night. All the way back to the guest house I watched the shadows, wondering if he was lurking there, amusing himself with my misfortune. When I arrived at The Dolphin, I had to use my key. Nevertheless, Martha was waiting for me.
"Oh, Mr Dawson, it looks like you've been in the water. What on earth happened?"
"I went for a walk on the beach. I slipped."
"Oh dearie me, we can't have you walking round like that, the carpets will get wet."
"Well, I can hardly strip here in the hall, can I?"
"Come through to the kitchen. I'll find you one of Gerald's robes. What were you thinking of?"
"As I said, I slipped."
I followed her through a door at the back of the hall to a kitchen with a vinyl-tiled floor. She made me stand on newspaper until she'd found a towel and brought a towelling robe from the back rooms.
"There's a toilet through that door behind you. You can get out of your wet clothes in there. I'll have to dry your shoes out in front of the range. I must say, I never expected anything like this." She handed me the robe.
"I'm quite all right. I can manage."
"Nonsense. You're shivering and you'll get sand everywhere. Get out of those clothes and I'll get them washed tomorrow. There'll be an extra charge for a service wash, especially with the state they're in. You do realise that, don't you?"
"That's fine." I was beginning to think she was enjoying herself.
"That's one of Gerrald's old ones. It doesn't matter if it gets wet. Just get yourself dry. Here's a towel." She passed me a hand towel that had also seen better days.
There was barely room to turn around, with just a hand basin and a toilet. I squirmed out of my clothes, dropping them in a soggy pile on the floor, then dried myself with the towel. The harsh cotton combined with the remnants of grit and sand to chafe my skin. I dabbed off the worst and shrugged into the robe, belting it tightly with the tie, then picked up the pile of sodden clothes and edged out of the toilet.
She held a plastic bag out and I dropped them in.
"Gloria at the laundry will take care of those for you. She does all the linen for us, a proper job. You won't know them."
"Thank you. If it's OK, I'll take my key and go to bed."
"Do you want me to dry your umbrella out in front of the range with your shoes?"
"No, it's OK. That's the one thing that's waterproof. I'll take it upstairs."
"Mind you don't get sand and grit everywhere," she said as I made my way back into the hall and upstairs.
"I'll be careful. See you in the morning."
"Good night, Mr Dawson." She closed the kitchen door behind me.
Back in my room, I locked the door and went straight to the bathroom. Standing in the bath, I unsheathed the sword, washed the blade and wiped it with my hand towel. Then I rinsed out the scabbard, removing any grains of sand, wiped it down and left it over the sink to drain any remaining water. Weapons first, that's what I had been taught. You never knew when you'd need them next and it wouldn't do to have the sword jam in the scabbard from sand or rust.
Discarding my robe, I showered off the remaining sand, setting the shower hot enough to ease the aches and bruises. I wiped the mirror with the towel and inspected my scrapes and scratches. None of it was worthy of attention.
I put on my own robe and left the bathroom light on to keep the fan running, then released the ward on my bag and brought out clean clothes. Whoever had packed had put two full changes in the bag. I wondered whether shopping was also a service the stewards provided. I dried my feet and put on clean socks, pulled on a shirt and trousers and laced my spare boots, feeling immediately better.
The alarm clock at the bedside said it was close to midnight. I was dog-tired. Woken before dawn, using the Ways twice in one day, the walk into Hull, the disaster on the beach – it was all taking its toll and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.
Garvin said that Warders didn't get tired and I wondered if there were a trick to that or if it was just sheer force of will.
Either way, I still had things to do. I tightened the laces of my boots.
NINE
Blackbird or Garvin: who to speak to first? I needed to update both of them, but if I spoke to Blackbird first, I would have to tell Garvin what I knew. I didn't think Blackbird would want me telling him more than she wanted him to know. I sat on the single bed and reached with my intention beneath the surface of the mirror, connecting it to the core of power within me.
"Garvin?" The glass clouded.
"Dogstar? One minute. Stay with me." His voice was loud in the small room. I heard sounds of movement from the mirror, a door closing. "What's the situation?"
"Raffmir was here. I was down on the beach and he was waiting for me." I recounted what had happened.
"Is he there now?"
"No, I went after him, but he vanished."
"The wraithkin delegation were ordered to stay with their escorts. I've lodged a protest with Altair and he says they'll be disciplined as soon as they can be found."
"They've both gone?"
"Yes. They were in their accommodation. The windows and doors were warded. When no one came out we sent in the stewards to see if they wanted anything and they were gone."
"How did they get out without anyone noticing?"
"They're wraithkin. They have their ways."
I was wraithkin too, but I didn't know how to get past a warding without triggering it. "We know where Raffmir went. Any idea about Deefnir?"
"Nothing confirmed. Blackbird's gone too. He may have gone after her."
"I know. I tried to speak to her earlier. She was in a car or a truck. I don't know where she was headed – London maybe?"
"We can't protect her if she's not here, Niall."
"It sounds like she's looking after herself."
"I've sent Amber after Raffmir, Slimgrin to find Deefnir. If they find them they'll bring them back here. Fionh is acting as liaison for the negotiations. Tate, Fellstamp and I are rotating shifts, keeping things tight, though Fellstamp is only managing six-hour stints. So far Altair is happy to sit and talk while we run round after him."
"You want me to come back in?"
"No. I told Altair you were on assignment. It doesn't sound like it's going too well."
"I have to figure out what the assignment is first."
"That's often the way, Dogstar. Keep your head up and your eyes open."
"What did Raffmir mean, when he said he was the only one who could show me how to reach Alex? How did he even know she'd been taken?"
"You already know the wraithkin can li
sten in on other people without them knowing. If you're his target, Niall, you have to assume that he's overheard every conversation you've had since he got here, maybe even before that. He may have been watching you for months."
"He can't harm me, or cause me to come to harm, without breaking his oath."
"I said before, Niall. They're not here by accident. The negotiations have hit deadlock. Neither side is willing to concede on the major issue – what happens to Blackbird, you and the rest of the half-breeds. Altair's treading water. He's waiting for something. We have to find out what."