Rhoslyn did not anticipate and did not have any trouble in winning her freedom. Lady Mary had taken her hands as soon as Rhoslyn was close enough to be seen. She urged Rhoslyn to sit down, exclaiming that she was sorry to see Mistress Rosamund still so pale. And Rhoslyn had hardly mentioned her desire to retire to her brother’s house, when her request was approved. Her only problem thereafter was how to escape Lady Mary’s anxious attempts to assist her in every way possible.
She succeeded only partially at last only by allowing Mary to provide for her transportation into London, where she said a message to her brother would bring his servants. That agreement at least saved her from another reading from the Fathers on the higher value to be placed on the comfort of the soul than that of the body because it was important to leave as soon as possible.
Even so, she raged inwardly as the clumsy vehicle—the most luxurious available but still slow and uncomfortable—crawled toward London. She was terrified that Pasgen would find some way around the promises he had made to her. She could too easily imagine him being drawn to examine more closely those ill-formed constructs and being swallowed up by the malevolent Chaos Land.
A few moments after Mary’s vehicle deposited Rhoslyn in an elegant inn, she was out of the place by a back door. She made her way to Pasgen’s Gate just north of Westminster Abbey, transferring from the terminus at the Goblin Market to the Gate that took her to the empty house. There the worst of her fears was assuaged, for she found Pasgen himself writing a message, purportedly from her imaginary brother’s servant, asking her to attend on her brother.
“But I could not for the life of me think of a way of getting the message to you soon enough,” Pasgen said.
Rhoslyn’s eyes widened with alarm. “Soon enough for what? You are not going back to that dreadful place!”
Pasgen frowned. “I will have to go back, Rhoslyn,” he said slowly. “I cannot leave what may be a real danger to the whole of Underhill without finding out if it is a danger, and if it is, without doing something.”
She felt rising panic. “You need do nothing, certainly not go back to that hellish place! I will go to Oberon and report what you saw—only, of course, I will say that I saw it, that I had chosen an Unformed land at random to create a few constructs—”
“Rhoslyn.” Suddenly Pasgen started to laugh. “I am the one who was always wiping up the messes you had left with your spells—”
“Yes,” Rhoslyn interrupted forcefully, “and it is about time that I paid back all your favors. No, seriously, Pasgen, Oberon will not question my appeal to him. I am known for my creation of constructs and if anyone were to induce a mist to imitate creation, it is logical that it was me.”
“But it was not you … and, Rhoslyn, it was not me either. The mist did not learn creation from me. I was not creating anything, only studying its properties. It was Elizabeth. She did not know how to create so she made a picture in her mind and begged the mist to create it.”
“I will not tell Oberon about Elizabeth,” Rhoslyn said quickly. “The less he thinks about her the safer she is. I will just tell him about the strangeness of the mist in that Unformed land.”
For a moment Pasgen frowned thoughtfully at her, then he nodded. “Telling Oberon is not at all a bad idea, but not until I have a chance to test that mist again.”
“Pasgen! You promised!”
“I know, but my curiosity is eating me up alive. I will be careful, Rhoslyn. I will stay right by the Gate …”
She shivered and caught at his hand. “Please, Pasgen!”
He laughed and turned his hand in hers so that he could squeeze it comfortingly. “Well, it is not something you need to worry about right now. I was not writing to say that I was off to the Unformed land. Why in the world would I send a note to the mortal world to tell you that?”
“So that I would be at hand Underhill to try to rescue you?” Her voice was tart with irony.
He pressed her hand again. “Would you, Rhoslyn?” Then bent his head and sighed. “Yes, I know you would. And that is the thing most likely to keep me out of that Chaos Land.” He gave her hand a last squeeze and said more briskly, “No, I was not planning to attack that problem just yet. We have another.”
Rhoslyn let out a long breath. “Whatever it is, I welcome it if it has distracted you from that malevolent mist.”
But he was shaking his head. “No, Rhoslyn. I do not believe the mist is at all malevolent. To me it seemed merely curious.”
She bit her lip, and looked him in the eyes. “That an Unformed land can have become self-aware enough to be curious is dreadful and frightening enough. What is this other problem?”
His mouth thinned into a grim line. “It seems that plans are being made to arrange the deaths of Denoriel and Aleneil in the mortal world.”
Her eyes widened, but what he had just told her seemed to make no sense. “Aleneil and Denoriel? That is ridiculous! How did you learn of this?”
“The first thing I decided to do when I Gated to the mortal world was to check on Fagildo Otstargi’s house,” he said, with a deep anger smoldering in his eyes. “The servant, to my amazement, was not in the least surprised to see me come down from the bedchamber. Now I chose him for his stupidity, but not to have noticed that I had been gone for several years seemed stupid beyond what was possible.”
“To me also,” Rhoslyn agreed, frowning.
He smiled, but without a trace of humor. “It seems that ‘I’ had not, after all been gone for years. ‘I’ have appeared irregularly from time to time.”
“Vidal,” Rhoslyn breathed.
“Yes, Vidal.”
She clasped her hands together in distress. “He is trying to do something forbidden in the mortal world that will bring Oberon to attack you!”
“That was my first thought,” Pasgen agreed. “But then I learned by looking into the servant’s mind that Albertus, Aurilia’s servant, was living in Otstargi’s house and that his purpose was to arrange the deaths of Aleneil and Denoriel.”
Rhoslyn’s eyes opened wider still. “What profit can Aurilia gain by their deaths? Aleneil is a FarSeer, but only the youngest and least powerful of those in the Bright Court. You said that you chose Otstargi’s servant to be very stupid. Could he have misunderstood what he heard?”
Pasgen grimaced. “I did not learn it from him, but from Albertus himself.” And he went on to describe to Rhoslyn his whole conversation with Albertus.
“So there can be no mistake.” Rhoslyn nodded, and felt a shadow of the same anger Pasgen was feeling. “But I still cannot understand why Aurilia should want to harm Aleneil and Denoriel.”
“At first I was puzzled also,” Pasgen admitted, “But when I gave the matter some thought, I understood that there was a simple and obvious answer. Aurilia is as power-hungry as Vidal. What is the greatest threat to the power of the Unseleighe in the near future?”
“Not Denoriel and Aleneil,” Rhoslyn said with a laugh. “By Danu! They are minor cogs indeed in the clockwork of the Bright Court.”
“No, you are right,” Pasgen said, then leaned forward to emphasize his point. “But who depends on them? Who needs them?”
Enlightenment showed in Rhoslyn’s dark eyes. “Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth Aurilia wishes to destroy, but surely there are more certain ways …” She paused, and narrowed her eyes. “No. Vidal and Aurilia will not attack Elizabeth directly, not after the warning you told me that Oberon gave to Vidal. Yet Elizabeth must be the target.”
Pasgen raised his brows. “I cannot think of anything else that would make Aurilia part with Albertus. He is the healer who mixes that bluish drink she is forever sipping.”
Rhoslyn did not look as if she heard his remark. She mused a moment more and then said, “I see. For all her high courage, Elizabeth is a tense and fearful creature. Vidal and Aurilia think that if Denoriel and Aleneil die and their support is withdrawn, Elizabeth will … break apart.” After a moment, Rhoslyn shook her head. “But she will not.”
“Do not be so sure,” Pasgen said. “I saw how she acted when Oberon denied her claim that Denoriel was her Denno. She is closer tied to him than you think.” Pasgen’s lips thinned. “That does not matter. I do not wish Denoriel and Aleneil to be killed by common, mortal thugs so that Vidal and Aurilia will have more power.”
“I agree most heartily with you, brother,” Rhoslyn replied, nodding decisively. “But I see that we cannot ourselves be too direct in our actions. If you remove Albertus or interfere with his servants, you will then become the first target. I think Vidal would be glad of the excuse to attack you. However, neither Denoriel nor Aleneil is helpless. If we warn them—”
Pasgen gave a disgusted snort. “I tried.”
“You mean they would not even give you a hearing—”
“No.” Pasgen laughed at her indignation. “They were not at the house on Bucklersbury and were not expected there. I did leave a note for Denoriel with his man of business, but what if Aleneil comes to the house before Denoriel does?”
“Yes. The man of business would not give her your note if you addressed it to Denoriel. Hmmm.” She looked down and then raised her eyes and tears glittered in the lower lids. “Aleneil does not have the defenses Denoriel does. I do not want Aleneil to be hurt or killed. She has been kind to me and … she is my sister.”
She was his sister too, Pasgen thought, and a gentle spirit, if she had been kind and welcoming to Rhoslyn. Perhaps … just perhaps if Aleneil would support her, Rhoslyn might achieve her dream of some acceptance in the Bright Court. The thought left him with a hollow feeling. He did not think the toleration would be extended to him. Would he lose Rhoslyn? Not completely. Never completely, but …
“I think,” Pasgen said hastily, “that I will go back to Otstargi’s house and see if there is anything I can do to ‘help’ with Albertus’ plans.”
“Yes.” Rhoslyn smiled at him gratefully. “And I will go to the house on Bucklersbury and ask to see Lady Alana. As Mary’s maid of honor I could well have a message to pass to Elizabeth through Lady Alana, and I have asked for leave from Mary to rest, so I have a reason to be in London.”
Chapter 12
Denoriel, as he had promised himself, did go Underhill after he had seen Elizabeth settled into the queen’s care. At the time he and Elizabeth arrived, Thomas Seymour was not in evidence and Queen Catherine was clearly very, very happy to welcome her stepdaughter. They were so absorbed in each other that both had been barely courteous to Lord Denno.
Plainly Denoriel was in the way of the ladies making enthusiastic plans for the future. Thus, he had taken his leave, telling himself he was grateful that neither Elizabeth nor Catherine seemed to realize it was almost dark and ask him if he had a place to stay. He did stop by the stable to remind Ladbroke of his direction in London and that a message sent to the house on Bucklersbury would soon reach him.
Miralys made no more than a few moments’ work of returning to London, and Denoriel Gated home to Llachar Lle from the Gate in the basement of the Bucklersbury house without ever going into the house at all. He did not bother going to his apartment in the palace either, but Gated to Avalon from where Miralys took him to Aleneil’s house. Before he could lose himself in Harry’s attempts to clear the evil from the abandoned domains, he had to make sure Aleneil would return to guard Elizabeth.
He had a few choice words to say—not to Aleneil’s servants; they were blameless—when he learned that Aleneil had already returned to her house, received his message, and gone to meet him in the house on Bucklersbury. If he had not been so impatient and had walked into the house, Joseph would have told him Aleneil was there, or he would have encountered Aleneil herself.
Mumbling dissatisfaction under his breath, Denoriel bade Miralys take him back to the Avalon Gate, from where he Gated to Llachar Lle, and then Gated again from his apartment to the house on Bucklersbury. By the time he arrived, he was aware that he was power-drained, not severely, but he was definitely not full. He thought for a moment of Gating back to his rooms in Llachar Lle again and resting until his full power was restored, but decided it would be foolish to do so. Since he would not need to protect Elizabeth, it was unlikely he would need to use any magic before he returned Underhill.
As he came up the cellar steps, Joseph came out of his room and said, “Ah, Lord Denno. How nice that you have come. Lady Alana is here—in your office—and I have a message—”
“From Lady Elizabeth or Queen Catherine?” Denoriel asked, although he was fairly certain there had not been time for a message to come from Chelsea. Still, he found himself wishing that Elizabeth would remember she had hardly said farewell to him.
“No, my lord, from a gentleman who said he was a fellow countryman of yours.”
Denoriel made a face. There had been more than one over the years who claimed to be exiles from Hungary. Most were cony-catchers who thought they could extract money from his sympathy for those fleeing the Turks. Those did not even speak Hungarian. Not that Denoriel was fit to be an orator in that tongue, but Jenci Moricz of Elfhame Csetate-Boli in Hungary had drilled enough of the language into Denoriel’s mind so he should not be betrayed by ignorance if someone from Hungary should appear in the English Court. A few who approached him had actually been displaced Hungarians. Denoriel had found work for them in his trading enterprises … outside of England.
“Likely another appeal for money.” Denoriel made an impatient gesture.
Joseph frowned. “He did not seem that kind to me.”
“Oh well, whatever it is can wait until I speak to Lady Alana. Hungary is twenty-five years behind me. It cannot be anyone I know. Will you have the servants bring us a meal?”
“Yes, m’lord, but I did not expect you today … nor Lady Alana, and since we have seen no more of watchers in or near the house across the road and all the money is safely deposited with your goldsmith, I took the liberty of making a … a personal appointment.”
Denoriel noted the faint extra color in his man of business’ face and, though he was very tempted to chortle knowingly, made himself expressionless. “Ah. You intended to be out of the house this evening?”
“Yes, m’lord, but Cropper can stay if you like.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “The men who attacked me are dead. I doubt there is any further threat. There is no reason why you should not go out. Cropper can go at his usual time. I will be here to guard the house and provide company for Lady Alana. If necessary, I can ask Cropper’s wife to come in to serve us. But I do not think it will be necessary.” He grinned. “Maids of honor often must do things like warming wine and putting hot bricks into their ladies’ beds. Lady Alana and I will manage.”
Joseph breathed an obvious sigh of relief and Denoriel was again tempted to laugh and again restrained himself.
“Thank you, m’lord. Oh, and if you should want the note the fellow countryman left for you, it is right in the middle of my table, atop two invitations that I thought you would like to see.”
“Thank you, Joseph,” Denoriel said and turned away.
He entered his own office with so broad a grin on his face that Aleneil, sitting by the fire, laughed in response.
“Oh you!” she said. “Don’t you ever give a hint of why you want me? I thought it was surely bad news.”
“The news is not what I was smiling about,” Denoriel said, sobering, but then he smiled again and sat down across from her. “I couldn’t help laughing because Joseph obviously has an assignation for tonight. He was much distressed, poor man, because we both showed up here without giving him any warning and he was afraid I would want him to stay in.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes warm with welcome. “Why should you? And I don’t see what there is to laugh about in a man wanting to go out once in a while.”
“Why he thought I might want him to stay? I will tell you that later. It is part of the bad news.” He shook his head. “But the real reason Joseph feels he must be here whenever
I am is because he is not sure I can pour wine for myself and he is absolutely certain I cannot heat water to make tea.” Denoriel was grinning again. “But I never knew that Joseph had a private life or was the least bit interested in anything beyond trading.”
“More shame on you! He has worked for you for … what? Fifteen years. And you did not know he was … ah … human?”
Denoriel sighed. “You are right, Aleneil. And I like Joseph, truly. But I am so tangled up with Elizabeth that I hardly notice anything else.”
She regarded him with a chiding look. “Begin to try to notice now. It is not for greed alone that Joseph has been with you so long. Do not let him feel that you do not care about him.”
“No. I do care.” That stung a little. He valued Joseph! He told the man often enough! “And he—he knows I am not human, or at least, no ordinary human, and has decided not to ask. I will pay closer attention to him.”
She nodded decisively. “And so you should. Now, why am I here instead of attending a very tempting ball?”
After what Aleneil had made him see about Thomas, the question gave Denoriel a terrible pang of guilt. He was putting Elizabeth before Aleneil’s comfort too. The FarSeers had Seen that he must protect Elizabeth to bring in the golden age the whole Seleighe realm desired, but the dullest part of that duty had been dropped on Aleneil. It was she who had taken on the plain looks of Lady Alana to serve as lady in waiting or maid of honor.
Before he could answer, the servants brought in the meal Denoriel had ordered. He and Aleneil moved to the table, and he said, “I am very sorry, Alana my love, but—but I feel I must ask you to go back into service with Elizabeth. I would do it instead of you if I could, but this will need someone right in her household.”
Clearly Aleneil was not pleased. “Elizabeth cannot be in any danger! After the warning Oberon gave Vidal, I cannot believe he would dare—”
By Slanderous Tongues Page 19