“What did I just tell you about ruffling Fancy?” said Carmine, in annoyance.
Barric merely said: “Are you coming in, or do I have to fetch you?”
“My champagne isn’t here yet,” complained Carmine. He sauntered carelessly through the door, but said as he did so: “It’s too early in the morning to deal with your disgusting energy without champagne.”
“I apologise,” Barric said, and shut the door.
It would be incorrect to say that once the door closed, Carmine’s demeanour changed completely. His eyes certainly looked more alert, but he threw himself bonelessly onto a ruby-red sofa as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“What’s the word, big man?”
“It’s time,” said Barric.
Carmine shrugged. “Oh well. I knew it was coming, I suppose. What do you need?”
“Do you still have the shard?”
“You ask that as though it’s a rhetorical question.”
The very air seemed to grow still. Barric said, very quietly: “Do you mean that you do not have the shard?”
“Let’s be honest, big man,” said Carmine. “Is it really something that someone like me should be trusted with?”
“Until now, I’d always thought so. Where is the shard?”
“You can’t have thought so,” Carmine said. “I told you I wasn’t to be trusted. I told you I was being watched. Actually, I thought that the words ‘I am not a trustworthy person’ and ‘since when does Unseelie help anyone’ were warning enough without my direct refusal to guard the shard. Obviously I was wrong.”
“Where is the shard?”
“And now that I come to think of it, I don’t know why you brought it to me in the first place. You must have known what I’d say.”
“Where. Is. The. Shard?”
“Now, there’s the rub. I don’t know with absolute certainty.”
“Carmine.”
Carmine still lay at ease on the sofa, but his eyes were watchful. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Big Man.”
“I won’t regret it,” said Barric, and took a step forward.
“Your refreshment, my lords,” said a cool voice by the door. Fancy was just slipping through it, her skirts brushing lightly against the wood.
Barric, looking very surprised, said: “How did you open that?”
“That’s what I’d like to know, too,” agreed Carmine. “She always manages to do that, and I’ve no idea how. She’s not especially magical, you know.”
“How much did you hear?”
“I never hear anything unless I’m supposed to hear it,” said Fancy. “Will you take a cup, my lord?”
“No,” said Barric. “I’ve something more important to attend to.”
Fancy’s step wasn’t hurried, but she somehow managed to be between Carmine and Barric the next minute, her tray primly in front of her.
“Don’t be like that, big man,” said Carmine, leaning his head around her skirts. He filched the crystal glass from Fancy’s tray as he did so. “Drink some tea. You’ll feel much better.”
“I’d rather you didn’t hurt him,” Fancy remarked. “He complains such a lot when he’s injured.”
“How appallingly rude,” said Carmine, sitting back with his champagne glass. “Fancy, you don’t appreciate me. I appreciate you. You should learn to be more reciprocative.”
Barric’s shoulders relaxed a little. He could even have been smiling a little—it was hard to tell, with the scar that ran across his face—as he accepted the cup that Fancy proffered once again.
“Would you excuse us, lady?”
“Will you hurt him?”
“I think not.”
As Carmine sipped from his glass, Fancy looked at Barric in silence. “Very well,” she said, and swept out of the room again.
As the door closed behind her, Carmine said, in tones of outrage, “This isn’t champagne! Fancy, where is my champagne? Fancy–!”
“Carmine,” said Barric. “Out of respect for a lady, I will not pummel you until you tell me what I want to know. Instead, I will ask once again: Where is the shard?”
“How appallingly rude!” Carmine said again. “She waited until I was fearful of my life, and escaped before I knew what she’d done. Don’t put the tea down, Big Man! I told you– I don’t know exactly where it is. It could be in Avernse, or it could be in Montalier.”
“Carmine–”
“I sent it off with someone,” he added blithely. He took another sip of the liquid in his champagne glass, winced, and put it down again. “It was safer with her. As to what she’s done with it, well, who knows? She’s the sort to know what it is she’s looking at– and if she doesn’t, she tends to find out. Not like Fancy. Fancy is very restful that way: she does what you tell her to do—well, most of the time—and she doesn’t ask uncomfortable questions.”
Barric was silent for quite some time. When he spoke again, it was to say, more mildly: “Very well. There’s nothing to be done about that. We’ll have to begin with the others and go on from there. We could use you in the fight, Carmine.”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Carmine frankly. “I’d get in the way and then be slaughtered messily. No, thank you.”
“You used to be a lot more useful.”
“That was before the Unseelie put spies in my canton,” Carmine said, with a glittering, humourless smile. “It may surprise you to know, Big Man, that I’m now a marked Fae. If I go anywhere but my own Canton, I’ll be fair game to any Fae with a sword or a spell quick enough.”
“I see,” said Barric. “In that case, we’ll do what we can without you. I’ll be off to the human world in two days: I’ll come back before that, if I can.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, Big Man,” said Carmine lazily. “I’ve done my part in this little game, and I’d rather live a peacefully cowardly life from now on.”
“That’s a shame,” Barric said. If Carmine had been looking at Barric’s face instead of at the glass in his own hand, he would have seen the grim sort of amusement there. “It would have been useful–”
“I don’t like to be useful,” Carmine warned. “I like to be comfortable.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” said Barric, and the amusement in his face had grown. “I was talking about Fancy. I’d take her with me if I thought she’d leave you.”
Carmine sat bolt upright. “No! I won’t have you trying to turn Fancy’s head. She’s mine, and she’s not allowed to help anyone but me.”
“Yes, she told me something similar,” Barric nodded. “If you change your mind about helping–”
“I won’t.”
“–if you change your mind about helping, I’ll be outside Harlech with the Llassarian princesses in two days’ time. We’ve still several shards to find, and you’ve got a stake in this fight.”
“No, I don’t,” said Carmine firmly. “I refuse to have a stake in it. I’m quite happy keeping my head down and pretending that those obvious little spies aren’t really that obvious.”
“Very well,” Barric said. “Then I’ll not see you again.”
Carmine sipped at his drink again by accident, and grimaced. “I certainly hope not.” He didn’t rise when Barric nodded his farewell and ducked through the door: in fact, he didn’t move for a good fifteen minutes, until an unwelcome thought seemed to occur to him. He bolted to his feet and strode from the room, hauling off his shirt as he went. “Fancy! Fancy!”
There was a distinct quietness to the marble hall, suggesting that any staff within earshot didn’t dare to answer a summons that was not for them. Nor did Fancy appear in her usual prompt manner. Carmine, his eyes dangerously narrow, shouted again: “Fancy! If I have to come and find you–!”
“What will you do?” asked Fancy from behind him, in some interest.
Carmine spun. “Fancy! There you are!”
Fancy looked at him in a pained sort of a way. “You couldn’t keep your shirt on for longer than half an hour?�
��
“A physique as thoroughly gorgeous as mine shouldn’t be hidden for longer than a moment,” Carmine pronounced. “You’re just lucky I choose to wear breeches, Fancy. I could walk around in my small-clothes and be considered a work of art. A work of art, Fancy!”
“I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies,” muttered Fancy. “My lord, is Barric gone?”
“Yes, thank goodness!” He looked at her suspiciously and said: “He didn’t try to take you with him?”
“He did, but I declined. I’m under oath to you.”
“Is that why you didn’t answer me when I called? You were rubbing shoulders with Barric?”
“I didn’t answer when you called because I was attending to something else,” said Fancy. “My lord, why would I ask if Barric had gone if he was talking to me? I would have known he was gone.”
“What were you attending to?”
“I was changing,” Fancy said.
Carmine’s eyes flicked up and down her length. “So you were,” he said, more mildly. “When did he try to convince you to accompany him, then, Fancy?”
“Earlier,” said Fancy. “My lord, would you like me to assist you on with your shirt?”
“No, I wouldn’t, Fancy! I won’t be mothered! If I wish to stride about my domain naked, I have every right to do so!”
“Oh, good grief,” muttered Fancy.
“And I won’t have you tut-tutting at me under your breath, either.”
“There’s no reason to be cross with me because you’re out of sorts with yourself, my lord,” Fancy said. “Earlier, Barric mentioned that you might be leaving with him.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“If you wanted to go with him, there’s still time.”
“I don’t want to go with Barric.”
“And there’s no need to feel bad because you’ve refused to help your friend.”
“He’s not my friend. Barric is the opposite of friendly.”
“And of course–”
“Fancy!”
“My lord?” Fancy’s brows were raised, her expression just slightly enquiring.
Carmine stared at her in brooding silence for a few moments. He said: “I’m going back to bed.”
From high in the sky, the Glasslight Canton is a thing of glittering beauty. There are the Wandering Hollies, for once meandering quite close to the castle, moonlight reflecting off their smooth leaves, and there is the Glass Mountain, a diamond-bright patch of reflected starlight and moonlight. There are the woodlands, which would be a vast sprawl of velvet darkness if it weren’t for the network of pinpoint lights dancing in the dark, and all around that is the sudden and complete darkness of the next canton. There is the castle, right in the centre, with a single point of light gleaming bright into the sky—the crystal roof of the lord’s bedroom suite—and there, all around the castle, that shifting mass of alternating silver and gold that is as large as a sea– that is the combined might of Seelie and Unseelie, brought to bear against the Glasslight Castle and Carmine, Lord of Glasslight Canto and Duke of the Wandering Hollies.
Within the castle, things are inclined to be darker. Carmine’s bedroom, for instance, was deep in darkness, pierced only by the soft Faelight that was currently dangling from Fancy’s fingers.
“I think you should get up, my lord.”
A muffled voice said: “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s still dark.”
“It generally is, in the Unseelie Cantons,” said Fancy.
A groan. “Rub my temples for me, Fancy.”
“I think not, my lord. You’re not wearing a shirt, and you’re inclined to be dangerous when you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Carmine opened one eye. “I’m usually without a shirt, I think you’ll find, Fancy.”
“Exactly, my lord,” said Fancy. “You should perhaps take a moment to look out the window.”
“Fancy,” Carmine said silkily. Both eyes were open now, but they were distinctly narrow. “You made a certain oath to me when I brought you to–”
“Kidnapped,” corrected Fancy.
“When I br– kidnapped? You wanted to come!”
“You didn’t know that then. My lord, I really think you should look out the window.”
“Regardless,” said Carmine, with great coldness, “you made me an oath. You promised to be mine and obey me all your mortal life. I mention it because I think you’ve forgotten it.”
“Oh no!” Fancy said, smiling faintly in the glow of Faelight. “I remember it very clearly. I was very careful how I worded it, so I’m quite sure. I made an oath in three parts: that I would serve you until death, that I would be only yours, and that I would always do what was best for you. Champagne for breakfast is not what is best for you, nor is encouraging you to lie abed and massaging your temples.”
“Who is teaching all these humans how to make oaths?” demanded Carmine pettishly. He sat up. “Fancy, my head hurts!”
“I’m certain that the Fae don’t get drunk,” said Fancy. “That being the case, I can only imagine that your head hurts from pure contrariness. I will also add that there seems to be a rather large army gathered around the castle, and ask you yet again to come and see for yourself.”
Carmine tumbled from the bed and to his feet in one effortless roll, his eyes bright and clear, and strode across to the window. That made Fancy smile again as she drew the curtains aside for him. “I see that you’re awake, my lord.”
Carmine’s eyes flicked to hers for a silent moment, and then back to the seething silver and gold army below. “So it’s begun,” he said, beneath his breath.
“Some time ago, actually,” said Fancy. “You’ve slept through most of it. I thought they could occupy themselves quietly outside without bothering us, but now they’ve started making a noise.”
A deep, echoing crash from below bore out her words.
“Is that my front gate?”
“I imagine so,” Fancy said. “I don’t think they’ll be able to break through it, though. You did reinforce it last cycle, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” said Carmine, though he looked slightly uneasy. He looked Fancy up and down, taking in her unchanged clothes, and added: “Haven’t you been to bed?”
“No,” said Fancy, edging aside the drapes with one finger to look at the mass below. “I’ve been rather busy.”
“Fancy,” said Carmine. “I’d like to know exactly how much you k–”
There was another crash from somewhere below stairs: heavy, bone-shaking, and certain. Fancy let the drapes drop. “You didn’t reinforce the gate! My lord!”
Carmine cleared his throat. “It was an even chance either way. I could have done it, but then again, I could have decided that it was a lovely day and too nice to be spent in archaic and almost entirely useless magic.”
“It doesn’t seem so useless to me, my lord.”
“Well, neither does it to me, now!” protested Carmine. “That’s the benefit of hindsight, Fancy!”
Only by the smallest wince did Fancy betray her unease. “We should be going now, I think.”
“A sensible idea,” agreed Carmine. “We’d best take the secret passage: follow me closely, or you’ll get lost.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Fancy, and followed him from the room.
In the corridor, Carmine said frowningly: “It’s too quiet. Where are the other staff?”
“I sent them away,” Fancy said. “I didn’t think you’d like for them to be killed.”
“No,” said Carmine, “but I’d really rather not be killed myself, Fancy! I can’t help feeling that you might have thought of that before you sent away my guards as well. A dashing scar or two in the line of duty is all very well, but I have my face to think of, and I don’t think the mass out there is interested in taking prisoners.”
“Then you should have reinforced the gate when you said you were going to,” said Fancy pointedly, throwing a swift glance over her shoulder. She added: “Besides, you
don’t need your guards: you’ve got me.”
“That,” said Carmine, with great coldness, “would be very useful if I were thinking of serving them tea or scolding them into submission. I’d rather have them dead enough not to hurt me, thank you. This way, Fancy.”
They were scarcely three steps around the corner when two well-armed Fae turned into the same corridor and saw them. Carmine whitened, his fingers dripping with scarlet magic, and said: “Don’t worry, Fancy. I’m sure my magic will get through their magic-resistant armour before they slaughter us.”
“Carmine,” said Fancy, with another of those momentary winces. “Please get out of my way.”
It was perhaps her business-like voice that made the lord turn around. She had already unbuttoned the three buttons that lined her skirt at the left thigh, and was securing the material somewhere at the back. Carmine’s dazed eyes took in, at one glance, the light boots, the breeches, and—most importantly—the twin knives that were sheathed to either leg.
“Fancy,” he said. “This makes things very difficult for me.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Fancy said. “Behind me, please.”
“With pleasure,” said Carmine, and ducked behind her.
Fancy threw him a brief look over her shoulder. “Further away. These knives are longer than they look, and my reach is certainly longer than it looks.”
The Fae weren’t in a hurry. They waited, with faintly mocking smiles, while Carmine hastily stepped back a few paces further, and they even waited while Fancy drew her long knives.
“Give up pleasantly,” said one of them. “You’re good and hearty, and you’ve got a good set to you. You’ll train well. We only want the traitor.”
Fancy said over her shoulder: “I’ve never been particularly pleasant, have I, my lord?”
“Not particularly,” agreed Carmine.
“There you go.” Fancy smiled insincerely at both Fae. “And if it comes to that, the only way you’re going to lay a finger on my lord is by going through me.”
“Ah,” sighed the Fae who had spoken earlier. “It’s like slaughtering a good dog. Is the traitor worth your life?”
Carmine peered around Fancy’s skirts. “I object to the term traitor!”
Shards of a Broken Sword Page 42
