We arrived before they did to check the area for traps and were relieved to find none. The Earl’s coach duly arrived, with three mounted grooms each leading a riding horse. George, a competent horseman, mounted first. We watched with some trepidation as Mr. Pitt, complete with gouty foot, was manhandled onto a docile looking cob, his left foot placed in an enlarged stirrup. Lord Stratford, despite his age, mounted without difficulty and looked over to us.
“Lead on,” he said and clapped his heels to his horse’s sides, urging it into a smart trot.
I thought I heard Mr. Pitt groan slightly, but he made no complaint.
We circumvented the White Lodge and climbed the hill to the west of it, slowing down to access the Fae gate.
George rode up beside me. “How do you know where the gates are?” he asked.
“I don’t always, though I’m getting better at finding them. I think Corwen sniffs them out. He’s been traversing Iaru on behalf of the Lady of the Forests since he first left home.”
“Lily told me he argued with his father and left as soon as he was old enough.”
“I never met his father except as an invalid, but there was enough spark in the old man, even then, to suggest a temper. He never forgave Corwen for his wolf, and his attitude to Corwen fixed Freddie’s fate.”
“Lily has told me about Freddie.”
“Let’s say he has problems, but we hope he’s in a better place now.”
“He’s dead?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. I meant it literally. He’s in Gloucestershire with a friend who has offered him sanctuary, and he intends to stay there. He’s renounced his inheritance in favor of Corwen.”
“So Corwen owns the estate.”
“Only for as long as he and I can stay out of the Mysterium’s hands. There’s an older sister, Emily, whom I’ve never met. She’s not a shapechanger. Should the Mysterium come for us, as the oldest daughter she’s next in line, though when Freddie signed the estate over to Corwen, Corwen, in turn, signed over the mill to Lily. How do you feel about woolen cloth?”
He laughed. “I’m going to have to get used to it. Lily will not be parted from her precious mill.”
“She’s worked hard for it, and she runs it well. It should be enough to keep you both.”
“Ah, about that . . . When I told you that I was a younger son of a younger daughter, without a title, I didn’t mean to imply I was penniless. Also, I have a share in the prize money from my years at sea. I can look after Lily, mill or no mill.”
I smiled at him. “I’m very pleased to hear that, George.”
“Here it is!” Corwen called.
“The gate?” George asked.
“Yes, everyone stay close.”
We rode through from summer to summer, but it was as if the sun moved in the sky and the colors all changed. We were still riding through woodland, but among the oaks and beech were trees I couldn’t give name to. Birds I didn’t recognize flitted from branch to branch, some of them sporting brilliant colors, others with glorious voices. And the smell was once more fresh and green yet somehow spicy.
Lord Stratford pulled up his horse and swiveled in his saddle to see where we’d come from, but the park was gone.
Putting the image of my brother into the front of my mind, I summoned him, not wishing to venture any farther into Iaru with uninvited strangers. The Fae could get very touchy about that.
Almost immediately, I heard the sound of pounding hooves.
“That was quick,” I said to Corwen. “I’ve only just called David.”
“It’s not David,” Corwen said. “Quick, group together. Protect Lord Stratford and Mr. Pitt. No harm must come to them in Iaru or everything is lost.”
A troop of Fae warriors, armed with bows and armored in bronze, galloped out of the trees and surrounded us.
42
Negotiation
CORWEN AND I placed ourselves between the archers and the politicians, and—to give him his due— George Pomeroy joined us. Mr. Pitt exclaimed loudly—something about treachery, but I was too busy trying to shield him from the archers to listen. Lord Stratford said nothing but reached under his coat and drew a pistol.
“Lord Stratford, please, no!” I said. “Mortal weapons don’t work the way they should in Iaru. You’re as likely to blow your fingers off as shoot someone.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Corwen shouted to the captain of the archers. “Take us to Larien.”
“Larien no longer holds sway on the Council of Seven.”
“Then take us to Lord Dax,” I shouted.
“We will take you to Dantin.”
“Not what I was hoping for.” I kept my voice low.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Pitt asked. “Are these Fae?”
I’d been in and out of Iaru for almost two years now, and I was used to the Fae, but I’d forgotten what an effect they’d had on me when I’d first encountered them. Describing them in words made them sound human, but they were as far removed from human as gold is from base metal. Oh, yes, they had human-shaped faces, but they exhibited an unearthly quality, unmarked by life, but all-knowing. Their clothes were woven of the finest thread that shone with the luster of precious metals while remaining as soft as silk. Any dirt that tried to splash them would shrink away in fear.
“Yes, these are Fae, but the Council of Seven seems to have had a shake-up. Larien is on our side. Dantin most definitely is not.”
“What about this Lord Dax?”
“He’s the oldest Fae I’ve ever seen and the senior member of the council. I don’t know which side he’s on, but I trust his wisdom, and he outranks Dantin.”
The archers lowered their bows and fell into formation ahead of us and behind. We couldn’t break and run anywhere. I suspected that if we’d tried, the magic of Iaru itself would have taken us around in a circle, so we’d end up where we were meant to be.
We passed through a village which seemed to be occupied by rowankind. The houses looked organic, as if grown. They were neither oblong nor rounded, but an asymmetrical mixture of the two. Their timbers were the natural shapes of growing trees and their roofs green turf. No house was taller than a single story with a loft in the apex of the roof, but some of the houses had extra rooms built on. The rowankind came to their doors to see us ride past, but none made comment until we were almost through the village.
A figure ran out of the very last house. “Mr. Corwen,” he called, and paced alongside Corwen’s horse.
I recognized him instantly—Tommy Topping, the son of the mill’s manager and one of the rowankind who had escaped to Iaru with David, seconds ahead of the redcoat troop that had come to arrest them for their use of magic.
“Tommy,” Corwen bent low. My ears are good, and I could hear their whispered conversation. “What’s going on? What’s happened to Larien?”
“Rumor says he’s dying. Where are they taking you?”
“I don’t know where, but apparently to Dantin. Do you know where David is?”
“With his father, I think.”
“Are you well treated here, Tommy?”
“Aye, but I wish we could go home again. This place feels too easy. Know what I mean?”
“I do.”
One of the archers rode up alongside Corwen. Without saying anything to Tommy, or harming him by touch or word, the archer nudged him out of the way till he fell back.
“You heard that?” Corwen said to me as I pushed my horse alongside his.
“I did. What can be wrong with Larien? Something natural or foul play? I didn’t think the Fae took sick and died of natural causes.”
“I don’t think they do.”
“And what about David? Is he in danger? If this is a political coup, who’s behind it?”
“I know who I’d put my money on.”
“Dantin.
”
As I said the name, we arrived in a grove as perfect and beautiful as the one in which the Council of Seven met. The tall tree trunks soared upward and then arched overhead like fan vaulting in a cathedral. The effect was cool and green with the summer sun filtering through the leaves. Two large, thronelike chairs had been placed to one side. Dantin sat in one of them with his daughter, Margann, standing behind and a little to one side. She raised her eyes to meet mine, and for a moment I saw an expression of helplessness. Whatever was happening was outside of her experience and, if I read her face correctly, she didn’t much like it.
“Rossalinde and Corwen, welcome,” Dantin said. “I see you’ve brought hostages. How thoughtful.”
I heard Mr. Pitt muttering behind me, but he had the good sense not to exclaim out loud.
“What’s happening, Dantin?” Corwen asked. “Mr. Pitt and Lord Stratford are here to talk to the Council of Seven.”
“Soon to be a Council of Six, I believe. I invite you all to step down from your horses. I’ll have the beasts taken care off.” He waved and five rowankind came running to hold our horses. Dancer and Timpani both laid back their ears and looked unhappy. I heard Mr. Pitt let out a breath as his gouty foot hit the floor.
As the rowankind led the horses away, Dantin waved his hand. “Forgive my rudeness. I should have offered you refreshment.”
Lord Stratford began to say thank you, but I cut in before he could finish his words. “No, thank you, Dantin. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” I turned to Lord Stratford and Mr. Pitt. “To accept food or drink in a magical realm puts you under an obligation to the host unless it’s offered freely and with no obligation on either side.”
“In three days it will be midsummer,” Dantin said. “If the king and his ministers have not reached an agreement on the matter of the rowankind by then, all the pretty little illusions we have sent will be as nothing alongside what will happen. I take it these two gentlemen could be instrumental in reaching some kind of agreement.”
“An agreement with the Council of Seven first,” Corwen said.
“I doubt that can be convened without my brother, Larien. Gentlemen I’m afraid you are in for a long wait. Days, I shouldn’t wonder. In the meantime, I guarantee your safety. You are under my protection.”
I sent out a thread of summoning to find David. It was important someone knew where we were.
A stir in the trees announced the arrival of a procession. Calantha of the Merovingian Fae, my brother’s wife, swept into the clearing, all in black. Her beauty was unparalleled, and she knew how to use it. The half-dozen lesser Fae in her retinue stopped on the edge of the clearing, but Calantha stepped forward and sank into the second thronelike chair next to Dantin, affording him a small, secretive smile.
So that was the way of it.
I cleared my throat softly in Corwen’s direction, and he huffed out a breath. Yes, he’d noticed, too.
“If my nose is telling me the truth, and it usually is,” Corwen said softly. “Those two are intimate.”
“You’re sure?”
Of course, he was sure. Corwen’s nose didn’t lie. Did David know?
“If you won’t take any refreshment,” Dantin said, “let me offer you somewhere comfortable to wait.”
“We’d like to visit with family, if it’s all the same to you,” I said.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Such a busy time right now. Margann will see that you’re housed comfortably.” He offered his hand to Calantha as they walked out of the grove together. She reached for his hand and put her head next to his. “With Larien incapacitated, we may yet succeed.”
Even the Fae underestimated my hearing sometimes. Did she sound pleased about Larien’s injuries?
Margann stepped forward. “This way, please.”
A few steps outside the first circle of trees, the bronze-armored bowmen stood guard.
“What’s going on?” I asked once Dantin and Calantha were far enough away not to hear.
“Hush. Wait a moment.”
She led us to a shelter on the edge of the glade, made from woven, living willow. Inside, there were chairs of a somewhat fanciful design, but comfortable enough. The table was a carved dragon with an exaggeratedly flat back. On the table was a carafe of water and some cups.
“I collected the water this morning from your world. It’s not of Iaru, but please understand I offer it without any ties of obligation.”
“Thanks, Margann. Now, for goodness sake, tell us what’s going on.”
“Three days ago there was an attack on David, a magical attack, a dark curse. Don’t worry. He’s all right, but Larien diverted it and took the full blow of the attack on himself . . . and . . . ” She took a deep breath. “He hasn’t spoken or moved since.”
“Do they know who did it?”
“It wasn’t my father if that’s what you’re thinking. I was with him all afternoon, and he was as surprised as I was.”
I wondered if Lady Calantha had an alibi.
“But Dantin is taking advantage of it.”
Margann nodded. “Oh, yes, fully, and so is she.”
Margann jerked her head toward Lady Calantha’s retreating back.
Was I doing Lady Calantha a disservice? Had I misinterpreted what I’d heard?
“Surely she’s not getting involved in politics already?”
“I think she was born into politics. The Merovingian Fae have always had a reputation for darkness and scheming. Look at her with my father. More importantly, look at him with her. They say there’s no fool like an old fool.”
“What about David?”
Margann gave me a look as if to say I was being naive. I suppose I was. David had already been told he could keep Annie as a lover, so presumably Lady Calantha was allowed the same leeway. That was no way to begin a marriage, even one not wanted by either party.
“The marriage has not been formalized yet, only the proxy marriage. I think the Lady Calantha is setting her sights higher than David.”
“You think she wants to marry your father?”
“I think she’d marry Lord Dax himself if it would give her more power, but my father’s the only one on the Council of Seven free to marry. She had plenty of time to charm him while they were traveling back here from France. I saw how she played up to him.”
“Surely Dantin can see through her.”
“The question is, does he want to?”
“She is very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.” Margann pressed her mouth into a thin line.
“Look, Margann, we can’t stay here like this. Mr. Pitt and Lord Stratford will be missed. If Dantin tries to use them as hostages, things could get nasty. At the moment, they are the only allies we have in Parliament, but they have a lot of influence between them, and I truly believe they can help us get what we want without loss of life. They are worth more to us out there, working on our behalf, rather than stuck in here.”
“I can’t go against my father officially, but I know Lord Dax’s granddaughter. I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” I said to Lord Stratford, Mr. Pitt, and George. “There’s been a shift in the balance of power since we were last here, and our biggest ally, Larien, is out of the game—at least for now.”
I’d had my differences with Larien, but I didn’t want him dead. I sincerely hoped he would recover from whatever damage had been done.
“This Dantin is the one who would like to turn London into a smoking hole in the ground?” asked Mr. Pitt.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Can he do it?”
“Whether he has enough power himself is debatable,” Corwen said, “but he has enough followers to do it in a combined working.”
“Why does he hate us so much?”
“Two hundred years ago, his lover and the rowankind woman who raised him were among those called out of the forest. They never returned and, worse still, they forgot their previous lives—forgot him. But he never forgot them. They are long dead, but Fae live for centuries, and time feels different to them. What happened in 1588 is history to us. To a Fae as long-lived as Dantin, it’s yesterday. The wounds are still raw.”
“And there are others who think like him?”
“I’m sure there are, but the Council of Seven is wise. Lord Dax may be many thousands of years old, and some of the others may have been living when the Christ-child was born.”
Mr. Pitt sucked in his breath with surprise.
Lord Stratford poured himself a cup of water, stared at it and then at me. “You’re sure this is safe?”
“Positive, Margann is my cousin, the daughter of my aunt.”
“A half-breed?”
“It doesn’t work like that. The child of a human or rowankind mother and a Fae are wholly Fae. David is my mother’s son, my half-brother. Through his father, Larien, he’s a Fae prince. He didn’t know his heritage until a couple of years ago, but he’s learning fast.”
We spent the next couple of hours telling Lord Stratford and Mr. Pitt all we knew about the Fae and about the Green Man, the Lady of the Forests, and the magicals. We even told them about the goblins, though we didn’t mention names. This time I included the trolls and the kelpies, and Corwen told the story about the kelpie on Bur Island whom we had been forced to kill because she was eating children.
“That’s what I mean about the magicals policing themselves,” I said.
We went on to explain how, while we were looking for Corwen’s brother, Freddie, we’d discovered the Guillaume Tell being used as a prison ship for magicals and how the Mysterium had mistreated the captives.
“Why haven’t we heard any of this?” Mr. Pitt asked.
“I’ve been worried about the power the Mysterium takes for itself,” Lord Stratford said. “This shows I was right to worry. I’m for disbanding the Mysterium.”
“But what about the magicals?” Mr. Pitt asked.
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