A servant girl emerged from an entrance and got in his way. Danaus brushed her aside impatiently without further slowing his pace. His mind was still on what he had to tell Madame Cardui. She would want details. She always wanted details. How had he discovered the problem? How had it manifested? When? Where? Who had noticed? What had drawn it to their attention?
The answers were simple enough, as it happened, and fortunately he’d been there to witness everything personally. He checked off the sequence of events. The nurse noticed the deterioration in Nymphalis’s condition and called him at once. He examined Nymphalis, confirmed the nurse’s observation (but why the acceleration of the disease?) and ordered her immediate removal to stasis.
And he had supervised the setting up of the stasis cabinet himself, placed beside the one that housed Prince Pyrgus – a humane touch that, he thought. Heaven alone knew what had prompted him to wait and watch after Nymphalis was placed inside. Some healer’s instinct, he expected, since there was absolutely no need and he had other urgent matters to attend to. But he had stayed and watched and that was when he noticed Nymphalis continued to deteriorate after she had been placed in stasis! Impossible. No one needed to tell him it was impossible, yet he saw it with his own eyes.
After that he’d checked on Pyrgus too. The problem wasn’t quite as obvious there, since Pyrgus had already aged so much and further changes were far slower. But a careful comparison with his medical records showed his deterioration was continuing. Which meant only one thing. Stasis, their only reliable treatment for temporal fever, was no longer working.
He was negotiating stairways now, some of them so narrow they posed real difficulties for someone of his bulk – the original keep seemed to have been built by dwarves, and skinny dwarves at that. When he delivered the news to Madame Cardui, he planned to complain and complain bitterly – about her choice of office. What was the point of it? he wondered. What was the point of making a difficult situation just that little bit worse?
He met up with guards at the end of the corridor, but fortunately they recognised him and let him pass. All the same, he wondered. It did seem strange that Madame Cardui would post guards at the approach to her office. Or perhaps it didn’t. If the truth be told, Madame Cardui had always been a little… paranoid. Such conditions tended to get worse with age.
He reached the door and pushed it open without knocking. When on an urgent mission it was always as well to emphasise the urgency right from the outset, otherwise people wasted time on inconsequentialities. Burst in, state the problem, make an impact, that was the way to…
Madame Cardui was lying on the floor. A black-garbed figure was kneeling over her. It turned as Danaus entered and for just the barest instant he did not realise who it was. Then, ‘Lord Hairstreak – what has happened?’
Hairstreak pushed something into the folds of his jacket. ‘Your appearance is timely, Chief Wizard Healer,’ he said sharply. ‘Madame Cardui has collapsed.’
Danaus knelt quickly beside him. ‘What exactly happened, Your Lordship?’
‘We were discussing matters of state. The Spymaster was reclining on a suspensor cloud when she… lost consciousness. The cloud collapsed, but broke her fall – it’s dissipated now.’
‘When did this happen?’ Danaus asked. He reached out to place a hand on her forehead.
‘Just now. Moments ago – less than a minute, I think. I was about to raise the alarm when you arrived. Is she dead?’
Danaus shook his head. Her breathing was shallow, her colour bad, but she was definitely alive. For the moment.
‘I was not sure what to do,’ Hairstreak said.
‘There was nothing you could do, Your Lordship,’ Danaus told him. ‘Madame Cardui is in the grip of temporal fever.’
And a stasis chamber would no longer halt its ravages.
Eighty-Eight
‘Well,’ said Loki cheerfully, ‘can’t stand here all day gossiping. I have to get this place prepared.’
He had subtly altered his appearance again: no longer the darkly attractive young man and not quite the clown, but something between the two that was far more disturbing than either. Still wrapped in the serpent’s coils, Blue turned her head away and tried to think. To make sure all goes well for you and Henry. What did he mean by that? What did he know of Henry? What was he really doing here? She swallowed. ‘This thing is hurting me,’ she said.
Loki looked up at her and grinned. ‘No, he’s not. Gentle as a lamb, my boy. You just want him to put you down so you can escape.’
‘I give you my word I won’t,’ Blue said. It was half true. She desperately needed to find out about Henry.
‘Of course you will,’ Loki said, ‘I certainly would in your situation. But never fear. I’ll have my Jorm set you down in a moment.’ He smiled fondly at the massive serpent. ‘That’s what I call him, you know. My Jorm. So much more friendly than Jormungand, don’t you think? His mother picked that name because of its size. She likes big names on account of being a giant herself.’
This was driving her out of her mind. Straightforward villains she could deal with – she’d been doing that all her life – but this absurd creature was so frustrating she would cheerfully have strangled him had her arms been free. But the serpent itself tolerated him and he even seemed to have control over it. The question was, how did she get control over him? How to trick the Trickster?
Loki said, ‘Just let me make sure you keep your word…’
The cavern was immense with many exit passageways leading out of it. Loki gestured. One by one the passageways sealed themselves like sphincters, then smoothed into blank cave walls. Blue watched, astonished. There was no smell of magic, no fizzle of a spell cone: it simply happened. Escape route after escape route was cut off until only two were left – the archway into the cavern that contained the blazing light and a narrow passage a little to her right. But even as she watched, an iron grille slid down to seal the archway. Blue shuddered. The metal was lethal to faeries.
Loki glanced at the one remaining open passage. ‘For poor, dear Henry,’ he said, smiling.
Blue snapped. ‘What do you know about Henry?’ she demanded. ‘What are you doing here? Tell this brute to put me down!’
‘Put her down, Jorm,’ Loki said obediently.
To Blue’s surprise, the serpent released her at once. She slid down its body to the floor while the creature itself uncoiled and relaxed. She half imagined she could hear it grunt. ‘Thank you,’ Blue said tightly. She brushed at her clothing to give herself something to do and time to think. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Halek knife where she dropped it. The blade was clear again and had begun to sparkle. The weapon had recharged itself.
‘Well now,’ said Loki, ‘time to get this place prepared. Dusting, cleaning, rearranging the ornaments – a Trickster’s work is never done!’ He stretched both arms towards the ceiling of the cavern and released a curious howling sigh. The contours of the cavern began to change.
‘What are you doing?’ Blue asked in sudden alarm. She was a little stiff from being held, but she calculated she could reach the knife in three, four steps. This time she wouldn’t try to use it on the serpent.
‘Creating a worthy setting,’ Loki said benignly. ‘Wouldn’t want Henry to be disappointed when he gets here.’
He kept talking about Henry. The knife could wait. No more beating about the bush. Blue said, ‘Henry is coming here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Loki smiled charmingly. ‘To rescue you.’ He turned his back to her. ‘Now, don’t disturb me for a moment miracles require concentration.’ He spread his arms in an inverted V, hunched his shoulders and bowed his head. There was a curious, grating rumble as the rock of the cavern floor began to rearrange itself. In a moment, a granite platform appeared, which extruded a natural pillar about eight feet tall.
The massive serpent had withdrawn its coils. Loki was immobile, his attention firmly focused elsewh
ere. She was perhaps three quick paces from the knife. She could grab it and plunge the blade into his back before he realised what was happening.
She hesitated. The blade had not worked on the serpent. Would it fail on Loki too? If it did, her attempt on his life would achieve nothing and anger him. Would it perhaps be best to wait, to look for a better opportunity? A part of her was aware her inner dialogue was no more than a rationalisation. What was really staying her hand was something far more powerful than fear of failure. What was staying her hand was curiosity.
Heavy chains and manacles had appeared on the pillar. With a report like a thunderclap, a massive crack appeared in the cavern floor and lava oozed to form a sluggish, glowing stream that circled the entire platform.
Loki glanced over his shoulder, impressive, would you not say?’
Blue said nothing. What was he doing? This was an entity with godlike powers and she had not the slightest idea why he was using them.
‘Need to do something about the lighting,’ Loki murmured. ‘Not nearly dramatic enough.’ He tipped his head backwards, directing his gaze towards the roof. A heavy curtain swung across the archway with the metal grille, cutting off the blaze of light and plunging the cavern into a deep gloom reddened by the glow of the lava stream.
‘Niiiice!’ breathed Loki. He made another gesture with his hands.
Blue felt the result before she actually heard it, a deep, subsonic vibration that gripped her bones, then swelled into a dull background organ note, packed with suspense and threat. The whole scene was beginning to turn into some ghastly stage production where good taste was sacrificed for the sake of melodrama.
‘Now, Jormungand, my dear, you must look your part!’
There were no gestures from Loki this time, but Blue heard a curious slithering noise behind her and swung round just in time to see the massive serpent shrinking rapidly and changing form. For an instant her eyes could not take in what was happening – it seemed as if space itself distorted – then she was looking at a magnificent silver-grey scaled dragon. The creature was far smaller than the serpent, but still huge. It tilted back its head and breathed a plume of flame. Heat rolled over her like a wave.
‘Ah, magnificent!’ said Loki. He watched fondly as the dragon stomped across the cavern floor to take its place before the platform. It curled its great barbed tail and breathed another smoky plume. Loki turned. ‘Now you, my dear.’
Blue had a moment of panic. There was something in his eyes she did not like. ‘Just a min -’
He reached out his right hand, which extended then extruded a single razor-sharp claw. Before she could move, the claw was at her throat. ‘You need to look the part as well,’ he said and slashed downwards.
Blue jerked back, but there was no blood, no injury. The claw had not touched her body at all, but her blouse was in shreds. She gripped the remnants quickly to cover herself. At once she was on the platform, manacled to the granite pillar. Below her squatted the dragon. It turned to gaze at her with lizard eyes. Beyond it stood Loki, hands on hips as he surveyed his handiwork with tilted head. ‘Perfect!’ he exclaimed. ‘The ideal damsel in distress.’ He smiled at her. ‘Now all we need to do is wait for Henry.’
Eighty-Nine
It occurred to Henry this was all a bit of a mess. The trouble was he hadn’t planned anything – just took off looking for Blue without considering what sort of trouble she might be in (and he still didn’t know) or, more importantly, what he might need to get her out of it. The question of weapons was sort of obvious now it had been pointed out to him, but he hadn’t thought of it at all. Which meant he was stuck with a miserable flint blade and a hammer he’d left outside the cave because he couldn’t even lift it.
But it didn’t stop with weapons. He didn’t have ropes or picks for climbing, he didn’t have food beyond what Lorquin might be carrying in his pouch, and the last thing he’d thought of bringing with him was a light.
He’d really lucked out when he met the charno.
In the gloom of the cavern, Henry unwrapped the torch the charno had given him. It was a peculiar device of a type he’d never seen before, but there was a leaflet with written instructions wrapped around the shaft and its heading, Perpetual Flame, was reassuring. Unless that was just a trade name and the torch wouldn’t really last forever. He hated the thought of getting stuck in the caves with no light at all.
Apart from the heading, the instructions were in tiny writing, so he had to carry the leaflet back to the cave mouth in order to read it. The charno, still outside, stared at him curiously. Thankfully, there was no sign of Lorquin. Henry nodded and smiled weakly at the charno, then turned back to his leaflet. It was decorated with a drawing of the torch in use by a tall robed woman who reminded him of the Statue of Liberty. Irritatingly, most of the copy droned on about how wonderful the torch was without actually mentioning how to use it. The Perpetual business was a trade name, as it turned out, but at least the manufacturers claimed it would last ‘several years’ in normal use, which sounded unlikely, but not so unlikely as ‘perpetual’.
He wondered what normal use was as he turned the leaflet over and finally found a buried paragraph headed Instructions for Use. The paragraph read:
LIGHTS AUTOMATICALLY IN DARKNESS.
Henry stared at the words, thinking that couldn’t be right. The damn thing had been in total darkness in the charno’s backpack, for example. Did that mean it was lit in there? Of course it didn’t! It would have set the backpack on fire. Unless the drawing of the flaming torch was just a symbol and the torch didn’t burn with a flame, but just generated light the way an electric torch would at home. But even that didn’t make much sense because it would mean the thing was quietly running down every time you stowed it away in a box, or every night wherever it was, come to that. Hardly last several years under those conditions, would it?
He skimmed quickly through the rest of the leaflet, but there were no further instructions. He smiled weakly at the charno again and carried the torch back into the cave, where he held it aloft like the Statue of Liberty, but it still didn’t light. Maybe he should ask the charno how it worked. But he didn’t really want to do that: it would make him look stupid. Lights automatically in darkness. The thing was, it wasn’t totally dark in the cave. Gloomy, yes, but not totally dark since he was still only a few yards away from the entrance.
There was a passageway leading downwards at the back of the cave.
Henry didn’t really fancy walking into it without a light – there could be spiders or scorpions or bears in there – but if the torch wouldn’t light except in total darkness…
He stepped into the passageway and stopped. Then he held the torch high and waited. Nothing happened. He waited some more. Still nothing happened. Trust him to end up with an automatic torch that didn’t work. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he realised the tunnel wasn’t totally dark at all: it had only seemed that way when he first stepped into it. There was still light filtering in from the cave mouth. Actually, there was even enough light for him to see by. He could tell, for example, that the passageway ran downwards, then disappeared around a corner. He could also see what seemed to be some bones strewn across the floor.
Henry licked his lips. Maybe if he went deeper in, it would be dark enough.
Taking care not to kick the bones, he moved on. After a few hesitant paces, he turned the corner and fumbled his way a little further along. It was definitely getting darker here. In fact, he would have judged it to be absolutely, utterly, completely dark. He raised the torch again and waved it wildly. Still nothing happened.
He waited for his eyes to adjust again, but they didn’t. The darkness pressed in on him like a velvet shroud. Should he go on? Henry had a vivid imagination and it presented him with a sudden, frightening picture. He was standing in the dark on the edge of a precipice. One more step and he would fall to his death. Fall to his death in the total darkness, bloody useless torch! Henry thought of Blue and took another st
ep forward. He didn’t fall to his death, but he did realise he couldn’t go on like this much longer. There was no way he was going to find Blue underground in total darkness.
He reached out to feel the walls of his passage and discovered one of them had disappeared. The wall on the right was no longer there, or at least no longer within easy reach, which meant that the passage had widened, or opened into another cave (or fallen away into a precipice, his imagination told him) or otherwise changed the nature of his situation, almost certainly for the worse.
Henry froze and forced himself to think logically. Forget precipices and bears. While he knew he was in a passage, could feel he was in a passage, he could turn and feel his way back to the surface. But if the passage opened out into a cave and Henry stepped into that cave in pitch darkness and tried to explore that cave, he might not be able to find his way back. There might be other passages. He might get confused. Dammit, he would get confused – he knew what he was like. He would be lost in the darkness, unable to find his way out, for ever.
Not much good to Blue then.
The sensible thing, the only sensible thing, was to retrace his steps while he still could. This wasn’t abandoning Blue, not at all, wasn’t even thinking of abandoning Blue. This was common sense. He would turn, retrace his steps, find his way back out of the cave and ask the charno for another torch! The charno was bound to have one. It had all sorts of rubbish in that backpack. It had just given him a duff torch, that was all. It had to have a backup. And if it didn’t, maybe it would have a match, so he could light this torch and forget about the whole automatic bit. Retrace his steps, that was the thing.
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