"Only if you make your peace with Lady Mary. Northumberland is lost—not that you will miss him. You will do much better without him. But Mary must be convinced that you truly favor her and that much of your reason for obeying Northumberland was that you saw it as the only way to be able to warn her of Northumberland's plans. You must send her a warning that the invitation to her brother's deathbed is a trap and that she should take herself to a defensible castle, declare herself queen, and call in her tenants to support her."
"How?" Rich gasped. "I cannot warn her without Northumberland knowing I have betrayed him."
Vidal looked speculatively at Rich, wondering if now was a good time to rid himself of this henchman. After a moment he decided that Rich could still be useful. Chancellor was a powerful position and Rich was very easy to manipulate.
"Surely there are others, others whom the duke will suspect before he thinks of you. Are there not any who have been taken back into favor since the king fell ill? Those, I am sure, strive to discover any action Northumberland plans. One among them at least should be willing to believe you his friend or that you are more his friend than Northumberland. Send that man to Lady Mary to warn her in your name."
"And what if he goes to Northumberland instead?"
"Then you ride to Lady Mary yourself. I tell you, she will be queen. She will be queen no matter what you do or do not do. I am not telling you to go to her for her sake but because you asked me for a chance to save yourself when Northumberland's plans fail."
That was a flat lie. Vidal had no more certainty about the future than Rich did. The pale Sidhe in the tower could only tell him that the vision of Edward as king was gone, but three futures still showed in the dark pool—a thin, pale girl wearing a crown and weeping; Mary presiding over the burning of what she called heretics; and Elizabeth in the midst of joyous multitudes.
However, Vidal was a lot more certain of Mary coming to the throne since Rich had exposed Northumberland's secrets to him. When he finally rid himself of Rich, who had wasted another half a candlemark begging for a second or third way to escape ruin without betraying Northumberland—information Vidal would not have given him even if he had it—Vidal Gated back to Caer Mordwyn. From there he captured an imp to order Rhoslyn to come to him. He was taking no chances on Rich's wavering; he would warn Rhoslyn about the danger to Mary himself.
The creature squalled when Vidal drew it from a crowd of like creatures and squalled again as he pressed into its mind his memory of the essence of Rhoslyn. By the time he was finished impressing upon it where to find her in the mortal world and then his need for her to come to Caer Mordwyn as quickly as possible, the ugly little thing had no strength to squall. It could utter no more than a pathetic whimper when he released it.
Aurilia had come to watch Vidal work, and she enjoyed it heartily, but when Vidal was about to order the imp to go, she said, "If you send it out as it is, it will take a week to find Rhoslyn. Give it some power and a touch of reward."
"You are right," Vidal agreed easily.
She was, and he did as she suggested. He noticed with some pleasure that Aurilia glanced at him sidelong, made uneasy by his good humor. The imp, renewed, circled twice around Vidal's chamber and bedewed the carpet with excrement. Vidal's lips thinned; he hissed rage and raised his hand to extinguish the creature altogether, but Aurilia, more secure now that his temper showed, laid her hand over his.
"Do not waste the effort you made to catch it and imprint your message," she said, and gestured at the stain which disappeared. "What do you want with Rhoslyn? What she knows, Pasgen will soon know. Do not trust the break between them."
The warning annoyed Vidal, who knew Aurilia read people better than he did but did not like to be reminded. And despite her apparent satisfaction with handing his power back to him, he did not trust her. Also in the past she had known little and cared less about the mortal world. That, too, had changed during the years that he had been in the mad mist's thrall, and he was not certain why. For a moment he felt reluctant to tell Aurilia anything. Still, she said she had remembered that Mary must come to the throne, and she had tried to move toward that goal.
She had sent Albertus to "help" the physicians trying to save Edward so that he could bring her news of the Court and, in case Edward's doctors should happen on some treatment that would prolong the boy's life to circumvent them. Albertus could have finished the boy off if he lingered too long. That no longer seemed a problem, Edward was dying, but Vidal was glad Albertus was established at Court. He might yet have uses for him.
Better to tell her what she wanted to know, Vidal thought. What Aurilia had done thus far had been clever and was useful. If she were ignorant their purposes might cross.
"I do not care if Rhoslyn tells Pasgen this," Vidal said. "Pasgen could not care less what happens in the mortal world. I need to warn Rhoslyn that Mary is in grave danger," and then he unfolded the entire plot that Rich had described.
"So Jane Grey is the name of the pale girl with the crown that the FarSeers keep mentioning," Aurilia mused. "And Northumberland is trying to enthrone her instead of Mary. But if this is likely to cause civil war, why should we interfere?"
"Civil war would be welcome," Vidal said, grinning. "I am not trying to foil Northumberland's plan to crown Jane. I only want to keep Mary safe, for it is in her reign that the people's misery will furnish us in the Dark Court with a rich feast."
Chapter 7
Rhoslyn was fuming when she arrived in Caer Mordwyn. She had been startled by the urgency of the imp's message because she had not been summoned in four long years. Even after she remembered that Vidal had returned, she had not hurried to respond, bearing stoically the attempts of the imp to pinch and prod her into obeying. It was always Vidal's way, she thought, to make the response to any desire of his urgent.
In fact the imp could do her no harm. Her shields were more than enough to protect her from its malice. But it did mean she needed to keep shields in place; when she relaxed them, the nasty creature pulled her hair and pushed or pulled at her so that she seemed to trip. She was exasperated by the mindless harrassment. The imp could drink in the fear and pain of mortals it mistreated, but she did not exude pain and fear, and the creature should have abandoned its attempts to hurt her.
She was further irritated on her way from the Gate to the palace by the traps Vidal set to bedevil his less than clever subjects. Because she was distracted by the refurbishment of Caer Mordwyn, one of those traps had partly penetrated her shield and stung her. That reminded her Pasgen had warned her Vidal's sojurn in the mist land had changed him. But the reminder of Vidal's new strength only increased her vexation. How a being of such power could take pleasure in the fear and pain of those so much less than him was beyond her willingness to understand.
Once she had simply accepted that Unseleighe life was like that, but recently she had been spoiled. Her time Underhill had been spent mostly with Harry in Elfhame Elder-Elf and twice she had dined with him in Denoriel's luxurious chambers in Llachar Lle. It was true that she could not travel alone in Logres (she had never been to Avalon where the watchers at the Gate would likely have destroyed her). Harry had to be with her and vouch for her—but there were no traps and there was so much beauty.
She had been in Alhambra too; Rhoslyn stopped suddenly and looked behind her, feeling as if she were followed. But the road was empty. What in this ugly, gloomy place had brought Alhambra to her mind? Alhambra, all white marble and delicate lacy turrets . . . Shadows. Yes, shadows moved on the blood-red path behind her. Shadows always seemed to move on their own in Caer Mordwyn.
That was what brought Alhambra to mind, Rhoslyn realized. Shadows had moved on the glistening pathways of Alhambra too. She had felt what she felt now, watched . . . followed.
But Elidir had said she was not alone in feeling as if something trailed behind her in Alhambra. Mechain agreed and told her they had searched both physically and by magic, only once catching a glimpse of a
shadow that seemed to move by itself and disappeared as soon as their attention was fixed on it. Rhoslyn recalled that Mechain's remark brought something ugly and half forgotten to mind and she had shivered. Harry put a strong, solid arm over her shoulder and the crawling sensation down her back had stopped.
The memory of Harry's solid warmth, of the way most spells bounced off him by Oberon's protection, made her smile and she started toward the palace again, watching her way but still thinking of Alhambra.
Beauty was no guarantee against evil. Long as Harry and his friends had labored over Alhambra, it was still tainted. Rhoslyn had been asked to make suitable harmless creatures to clean away the detritus of long abandonment and the filth generated by the cursed things the Inquisition had left. To her horror, although the Evil in the elfhame had been so much diminished that even Hafwen could hardly sense it, when she and the others returned, the servants had been corrupted. They had attacked Mechain and Harry, and Rhoslyn had to unmake them.
Rhoslyn stopped again as a long arm snapped out of the brush that lined the road and tried to seize her. It slipped off her shield and she used a small spark of power to drive it back into hiding. Recalling the energy reminded her of the far more subtle trap the Evil in Alhambra had set. Hafwen had barely been in time to stop her from absorbing the power she had expended in making the servants, which was what she always did. This time, had she drawn the power in, the Evil would have come with it.
A split suddenly opened in the road. Rhoslyn cast a bridge of power over it and crossed, sighing. There was danger and evil in the Seleighe domains also, but it was not this kind of petty, senseless mischief simply designed to make stupid, weak beings more ridiculous. Even the mortal world was not so silly. There was logic and purpose to the threats against Mary.
The reminders that all of Underhill was dangerous and for her the mortal world hardly less so made Rhoslyn's mood black and crossgrained when she climbed the red-veined black marble steps into Vidal's palace. She wrenched her mind away from her mistress and the problems of the Bright Court to face current reality. But pushing Vidal to the back of her mind had produced no new insight on what to say to him or how to act.
Partly because she was uncertain about how to present herself to Vidal, she snarled at the Sidhe who blocked the way to the second set of stairs, which would take her to Vidal's apartment. The Sidhe was arrogant, but at least he was not near mindless from being drugged. Nor was he an idiot. When she said she was there because she had been summoned by Prince Vidal, he disappeared, presumably to carry her message.
Rhoslyn continued on her way, then laughed—and was annoyed at herself for doing so—when the messenger reappeared where she had been when she first spoke to him. Apparently he had assumed that, overawed by being summoned by Vidal, she would stay where she was until Vidal's permission was received. He had thus set his translocation spell to a place instead of fixing it on her.
The laugh had been unwise. The Sidhe rushed at her and tried to strike her. Rhoslyn struck back, drawing bitter/sour power from around her and spitting it back at him. She felled him, but the foul intake further exacerbated her temper and she was literally grinding her teeth when she arrived at Vidal's door.
Her mood was so foul that despite knowing she was the only remaining direct link to Vidal, the only way to know what he was planning, Rhoslyn would have turned and walked away if the door had not opened for her at once. But the door did open, and she drew a deep breath, doubled her shields, and walked in.
"You summoned me," she said, her voice cold, her tone almost contemptuous, almost inviting an assault.
Vidal looked up at once from a plaque he held in his lap. "Where is your brother?" he asked. "I wish to speak to Pasgen, and I am sure you have some way to summon him."
Rhoslyn blinked, silent for a moment because she was so astonished at the courtesy of his prompt attention and his lack of reaction to her tone. His voice was mild, only questioning and interested rather than aggressive. On the other hand, his question was part of an old story. Had Vidal lost bits of his memory again and forgotten that Pasgen had renounced his loyalty?
But Vidal did not look lost; he looked strong and calm, his eyes well focused, almost alight. And Aurilia was beside him. She, too, looked better than she had when Rhoslyn had seen her last. Pasgen's warning seemed all too accurate. Rhoslyn thought she had better swallow her bad temper and try to discover what they really wanted from her.
She shook her head and sighed, speaking quietly although her words were sharp. "You summoned me with such urgency to ask a question you know I cannot answer? As to summoning Pasgen, I would not if I could and you know why. I try not to annoy Pasgen."
"She is so heavily warded that my truth spell does not recognize her," Aurilia said, lifting a hand.
Rhoslyn poured more power into her shields and braced herself against an attack. She laid a hand over her lindys to prevent it from shaking. The last thing she wanted was for Pasgen to believe he had to come to her rescue. She did not think Vidal would permit Aurilia actually to harm her. And, indeed, Vidal put his hand over Aurilia's and bore it down although Aurilia was frowning blackly.
"My lord," Rhoslyn said pacifically, "I assure you it is not worth my effort to lie. You need no truth spell for me. Pasgen is in one or another Unformed land. I have no idea which and no way of finding out. I have no idea what he is doing there, except that likely it is something to do with power."
That was all perfectly true and if Aurilia was lying about the effectiveness of her truth spell it would report Rhoslyn was telling the truth. Still, there was something about the quiet, passive way Vidal was watching her that made Rhoslyn cold. She was not going to be able to fool this Vidal into believing her stupid and weak. So, though it was true she could not afford to break with Vidal, she did not need to act as if she did not know he and Aurilia were playing with her.
Rhoslyn shrugged. "If you want to speak to Pasgen, you can leave a message in the empty house. I can do no more than that myself, but I will gladly leave a message for you. Now, if that is all you want of me . . ."
She started to turn away, her irritation returning over this senseless cat and mouse game.
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" Vidal asked, but still without temper or threat, as was the reprimand that followed. "You knew my message was urgent, but still you did not hurry to respond to it. I have something of importance to tell you."
"Then I wish you would tell me quickly." Now Roslyn frowned. "As to why I am in haste to leave and did not come as soon as I had your message . . . This is a bad time for me to leave my lady. There have been several attempts on her life and I did not dare leave while anyone was still awake in Hunsdon."
"Already?" Vidal suddenly flushed with anger and bluish light flickered on his fingertips, but the threat was not directed at Rhoslyn and was quickly controlled. "I summoned you to warn you that I had learned Northumberland wished to be rid of Mary and to bid you take good care."
Rhoslyn sighed. "I am taking care, great care. We have had an attempt at poison and another two at causing an accident and I was forced to stop the heart of a man—fortunately old and greatly excited so his death did not cause any suspicion—who would have stabbed her."
"And you did not bother to tell me?" That question was not so mild. The old Vidal snarled past the barrier of calm.
"That was foolish, Rhoslyn," Aurilia said. "You know Vidal and I are deeply interested in Mary's well-doing."
"Of course I know, but what could you have done to help me?"
"I would have been sooner alert to examine the Court for plots and I could have provided more watchers," Vidal remarked, his calm restored.
"Watchers. Imps!" Rhoslyn wrinkled her nose. "The whole palace would soon have been in such disorder from their nasty tricks that I would never have been able to detect ill-wishing. No, I do not need such help."
"Nor can you watch day and night," Aurilia snapped. "Not without giving away what you are. That is wh
y Prince Vidal wishes Pasgen to join you."
"I am not a fool," Rhoslyn riposted. "I have help enough. I have made the attempts on the Lady Mary clear to her ladies and guards—the servant who nearly caused the accidents fled, the poison killed a dog, the assassin's knife fell from his clothing. Jane Dormer and Susan Clarencieux, her other favorite ladies, allow only old, trusted friends to approach close."
"Do not trust even those 'old trusted friends' too much," Vidal warned.
Rhoslyn drew a quick breath. "Why not?"
"The Chancellor of England told me that as the king failed Northumberland began to make plans to be rid of Mary. He has somehow tricked the dying king to name Jane Grey as his heir and disqualified both Mary and the accursed red-haired bitch because they were declared illegitimate. And the whole Council has been coerced into signing agreement to this device."
For a long moment Rhoslyn was silent, then slowly she shook her head. "It does not matter. Mary will never accept it. The king is not yet of age; his will can have no validity, specially not reaching so far for an heir when one of the direct blood stands ready."
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