by Mike Shevdon
"It did have a label," said Claire. "I peeled it off." She handed a steaming mug to Blackbird.
"What was that?" asked Niall.
"Only Claire. Stop fretting."
"You sound as if you're getting on OK," said Niall.
"Well, there's nothing like shared adversity to bring people together, is there?"
"Any sign of visitors?"
"Not as far as we can tell. If they came, they went away again. Maybe they didn't like the welcome reception."
"How are you feeling?"
"Apart from the chronic backache? Tired. I'm always tired at the moment. It comes with the territory. How are you?"
"I'm OK. Tired too, but for different reasons. I need your help."
"My help?
"Yes. I need your advice."
"Niall Petersen, Warder of the Seven Courts, protector of the weak, vanquisher of the enemy, scion of the wraithkin, needs the help of the beach-ball once known as Blackbird."
"Are you going to help me or not? What's a scion, anyway?"
"A descendent of a noble family. Has Raffmir been back?"
"No, it's something else." Niall described how he'd been trying to find the girls through the mirror and how that had somehow led to the encounter with the girl. He recounted the dream and told her about the scratches it had left behind.
"Are the scratches still there?"
"Faintly. They're healing fast, but they're definitely real. It can't be Solandre, can it? She's dead. You killed her."
"The wraithkin can be very hard to kill. Maybe she was just scattered. Did you feel her presence in the dream?" Blackbird sipped at the steaming mug.
"Not directly, but I've had the dream more than once. When Tate woke me the other night, I was dreaming I was in the glade then as well. I thought it was because Altair and Raffmir had turned up. Maybe I could somehow feel their presence and the dream was my subconscious, warning me."
"Are you sure you didn't scratch yourself in your sleep?"
"My nails aren't that sharp. Anyway, it's more than that. At first it was just me, but now other people are being drawn into the dream too."
"Are you sure you weren't just dreaming? You were looking at pictures of young girls and one of them turns up in your dream, all naked and willing. I'm a big girl. I know what men are like. It's not a completely unnatural thought."
"Blackbird, she's young enough to be my daughter."
"And I'm old enough to be your great-greatgrandmother. It didn't stop you having sex with me."
"That's different. You're not old. You've just been around for a long time."
"Thanks. Now I feel ancient. I know where to come when I want to fish for compliments."
"Don't be like that. I don't know what I'd do without you." Suddenly he sounded hesitant, unnerved.
"I expect you'd get into worse scrapes than you already have." She changed the subject. "I want you to try something."
"What?"
"Try and find Solandre through the mirror."
"What! Are you nuts?"
"Old and nuts as well. You are doing well this morning."
"I just meant…"
"Try and find her in the mirror. You don't have to speak to her. Just find out whether she's alive."
"What if she knows I'm trying to find her?"
"Well then, she's already found you, so you're not giving much away. If you know she's hunting you, maybe you can do something about it?"
"OK. Give me a few minutes."
"I'll wait."
The mirror went silent, leaving Blackbird surveying the fire escapes and sipping her mug of tea. It was a few minutes before Niall's voice returned.
"Nothing," he said. "I can't find her."
"Well, that's a relief. For a moment I thought she was coming back for a rematch."
"It doesn't explain the dream, though, does it?"
"There is another explanation."
"Which is?"
"Some of the Feyre are very old."
"I know that. I've met some of them."
"They tend to get cranky and become difficult to live with. Some of them withdraw and become more and more reclusive."
"You think Solandre might be hiding away somewhere?"
"No, I think Solandre's dead. Your dream, though, may not be a dream."
"How do you mean?"
"Some of the very old ones don't really die. They fade into the landscape, and become part of the scenery. No one even knows they're there. They don't harm anyone or do very much, so they get left. Over time, they drift, and become detached from the world. They're not dead, they're just… disconnected."
"Like hibernating. What's this got to do with my dream?"
"All creatures need to feed, Niall, even if it's only once in a while. The ones that fade, they survive on the life that passes, taking only what they need to keep going. A fallen tear here, a drop of blood there. If you're really not doing anything, you don't need very much."
"This is a dream, Blackbird. It's not a place." Niall sounded worried.
She tried to explain. "You know yourself that there is more than the world we live in. There are other worlds, and spaces between those worlds."
"Dreaming isn't a place. Is it?"
"You have scratches all down your arm, Niall. What makes you think you were dreaming?"
"I was asleep."
"Your body was asleep, but your mind was awake. You drifted, and ended up somewhere else."
"But Solandre summoned me there to feed on me."
"Solandre may have discovered the glade, and then used it to feed on unwary sleepers. By taking people there she could feed on them with minimal risk of exposure, while supplying her host with a steady stream of unwilling victims for itself. It would work for both of them."
"But Solandre is dead."
"And now there is no food coming to the glade."
"So you think it's bringing me there to feed from me?"
"Not from you, Niall. It honoured you. It clothed you in silk and made you welcome. It plucked Debbie from your mind and brought her to you, all willing and naked. Sex is as much food to such a creature as blood is. I don't suppose it would mind either way."
"That's horrible."
"It's no better or worse than any other creature. It wants to survive and it's offering you the chance to benefit from the arrangement. It's offering you a symbiosis."
"Why me? I don't want anything to do with it."
"You were the last person there, apart from Solandre."
"No, I wasn't. She had Jerry Crossland, the Queen's Remembrancer, trapped there. He was there after I was."
"But he's not fey, Niall, and you are. You're wraithkin, as Solandre was. Maybe it was wraithkin too? Maybe as long as you provide some nourishment for it while you're there, it will let you do whatever you want."
"I'm not providing it with nourishment. It's gross."
"Then you're condemning it to death."
"No, I'm not. I don't want anything to do with it."
"It doesn't know anyone else, Niall. Solandre was its link with the world and now she's dead. We have no idea how long she'd been feeding it or how often. She wasn't exactly a spring chicken herself. They could have been living off each other for centuries."
"How do I tell it I don't want it? How do I tell it to find someone else?"
"I'm not sure you can. It may hear you if you speak to it, but such a creature is beyond conversation. In some ways it's more a place, now, than a person. How will you tell a place to find somewhere else to be?"
"Can I ward my dreams against it?"
"Yes. I suppose you could, but it will die without someone."
"I'll introduce it to someone else, then?"
"Who, Niall? Would you want Raffmir to have it? Or Garvin, even? Who would you trust to look after unguarded sleepers? You know what Solandre was doing with it."
"This is awful. I can't feed people to it."
"Then kill it, but don't just let it starve to
death."
"How?"
"You're wraithkin. You already know how."
"You want me to use gallowfyre?"
"It's not my choice, Niall. It's attached itself to you and for better or worse you have to deal with it. You're a Warder now. If you can't deal with one ancient fey then you're going to have real problems when they start giving you executions to carry out."
"If I brought you there, could you deal with it?"
"No! If I end up there, it will feed on me and your unborn child. Don't even think about it."
"No, you're right. I have to kill it. It's the only way. What's that racket in the background?"
The sound of sirens echoed around the backs of the flats, one of the unwanted consequences of city living.
"It's a fire engine, or a police car maybe. I think we're OK. They do seem to be slowing down, though." The noise became deafening. A police car drove into the alley below, filling the narrow space with a cacophony.
"What's happening?" Niall's voice was almost drowned out.
The sirens were joined with another noise. A piercing alarm sounded from the flat. "Claire? What's that? What's going on?" She could hear Niall asking the same questions.
Claire appeared in the doorway. She was holding a short piece of black pipe, wrapped with a bunch of red roses, gathered together with a black ribbon with a gift tag dangling from it.
"Where did you get that?" asked Blackbird, taking it from her. The tag had the single letter D.
"It was left by the front door. I went to get the milk in," said Claire.
"I told you not to open the door!"
"I had my horseshoe with me. This was outside on the doormat."
The sound of distorted speech reverberated up between the buildings.
"Blackbird? What's going on?" Niall's voice was barely audible.
"Someone left a piece of pipe outside our door with some flowers. There's a label. It just has the letter D. Niall, I think it's written in blood."
The loudhailer came clearer the second time. "Exit the building as quickly as you can. Extinguish all smoking material. Do not touch any light switches or show any naked flame. Move quietly and quickly. Do not panic. Do not delay to collect personal possessions. Leave now."
"Go? Go where?" asked Claire.
"There is a mains gas leak in the building. Please leave immediately. Do not touch any electrical equipment. Do not use matches or smoking equipment. Extinguish all cigarettes immediately. Leave immediately!"
"Niall? I've got to go!"
"Where to? Deefnir's probably waiting for you!"
"If he is," said Blackbird, "he's going to find out how unreasonable a pregnant woman can truly be."
She snapped the compact shut.
"Get your horseshoe," she said to Claire. "We have to leave."
TWELVE
"Blackbird, what's happening…"
The sound vanished and I lost the connection. I slammed the top of the chest with my fist. I looked up into the mirror; the face there seemed distorted. Slowly, I let the anger fade. A lot of good that would do me, miles away and helpless. I pressed my hand to the mirror.
"Garvin?" The mirror glowed brightly under my hand. "Garvin, dammit! Where are you?"
His voice came through clear after the din from the flat. "Niall. You're not due until tonight. Can you wait two minutes?"
"Not really. Deefnir is trying to blow Blackbird up."
"Say again?"
"You heard me."
"Ten seconds, stay there."
I waited, counting slowly to ten. I had reached thirteen by the time his voice came again.
"He's doing what?"
I told Garvin about Blackbird and Claire and about the gas leak. "I'm sure he's caused it deliberately to flush them out of the building. They need help, and fast."
"I'm thin on the ground here, Niall. I'll send someone as soon as I can, but Fellstamp's laid up, Fionh is preparing for the day's negotiations, Tate's asleep and I'm holding the watch. Amber has gone after Raffmir and Slimgrin is chasing Deefnir. I'll get a message to Slimgrin as soon as I can."
"That won't help if he's waiting to ambush them."
"If she'd stayed here, where we could keep an eye on her…"
"She'd likely be dead by now."
"You don't know that."
"Nor do you."
"I'm trying to help, Niall, but you don't make it easy."
"I'm going to London."
"No! Stay there."
"And do what? This missing-girl thing? It's a shambles."
"Then unshamble it. You're not going to London."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll walk straight into a trap. This is exactly what Deefnir wants. You go running in there to defend Blackbird, and he'll have every excuse to kill you."
"He may find that harder than he thinks."
"He may find it easier than you imagine. He's prepared and you're not. He's laid the bait and now he's dangling it in front of you."
"She's pregnant, Garvin. Any moment now my son could be born. It could be the baby that Deefnir's after, not me."
"Slimgrin is on it. He'll find Deefnir and bring him back here."
"Slimgrin isn't even there."
"You don't know that either."
"If he's there he should be protecting them."
"With the amount of iron they have around them, I don't suppose he can get any nearer than Deefnir can. He's a Warder, Niall. You have to learn to trust the team."
"He's watching them?"
"We each play our part, Niall. Play yours, and let Slimgrin do his job."
"And I'm supposed to sit here and wait for news."
"No. You're supposed to do your job, as I'm doing mine. Altair is complaining that his retinue's deserted him. He's talking about bringing more of his court across."
"More? But they're following his orders. He's the one that told Deefnir to go after Blackbird."
"We both know that. Everyone knows that, but we can't openly acknowledge it."
"So we let him bring over anyone he wants? We're already beyond our limits. If he brings more people across I'll have to come in."
"No. You're playing into his hands again. Stay where you are. The Lords and Ladies can handle Altair. He's one where they are six."
"He's three, likely to be four or five soon by the sound of it."
"Krane asked him if he had anyone he could bring across that could be relied upon to follow protocol, and not just wander off sightseeing. He suggested that perhaps his grandson's inexperience in these matters hadn't made him the best choice for his retinue."
"What did Altair say?"
"He had to admit that Deefnir wasn't as experienced as others. He could hardly admit that he had given Deefnir orders to pursue Blackbird, could he?"
"That sounds like an excuse to bring more with him, though."
"Yes, until Yonna suggested that they each bring in two or three people from their own courts to help the visiting wraithkin become accustomed to courtly ways again. She said they couldn't help it if being exiled meant that they lost touch with fey customs and that they might make new friends."
"Right. I see what you mean."
"Altair thanked them for their consideration, of course, but the subject of his retinue hasn't been raised again."
"But no one knows where they are."
"Altair knows. The pressure will be on Raffmir and Deefnir to do what they came here for. He can't keep stalling for ever."
"Can't they push it to a conclusion?"
"Not without cutting short the negotiations. The Feyre want to see the courts reunited. They expect their leaders to negotiate in good faith. If the negotiations break down prematurely then it could be disastrous for the High Court and for the Lords and Ladies. They have to at least give the appearance of wanting to negotiate, even if that's not why Altair is really here."
"So we play along."
"It's the oldest game: wait and see. It'll come out eventual
ly. The courts will never agree to culling the gifted, so if that's his stance it'll look as if he's being intransigent and we return to the status quo. The courts continue to support the Lords and Ladies and the Untainted return to exile. It's the best outcome."
"Unless he's here for some other reason."
"Then it's our job to find out what that reason is. You're in a good position. You're forcing Raffmir to come to you. He wants something too, maybe for Altair, maybe for himself. Make him come to you. When you find out what he's after, I want to know."
"What about Blackbird?"
"I'll put any help I can in, but it's hard to protect a moving target."
"It's harder to hit one too."
"That depends what you're hitting it with. Try and persuade her to come back here."
"She's not going to want to do that, Garvin."
"Talk to her. If she comes back to court I can protect her, and Deefnir will have to come back here to get to her. She'll see the sense in that."
"Maybe. It didn't stop them last time."
"I'll ask Amber to sleep with Deefnir if necessary. Just get her back here."
"I'll do what I can."
"Report later. Meanwhile get on with the assignment. Don't worry about Deefnir, Slimgrin will handle it. And if Raffmir comes to you, find out what he wants."
"OK, but warn Slimgrin."
"I will. Be careful, Niall. Whatever they're up to, they've been planning this for some time. They've got us on the back foot. Now they think they're in the driving seat and we'll see where they're going."
"I'll report later."
"Do."
I lifted my hand from the misted glass. Part of me still wanted to go to London, though by the time I reached Claire's flat, whatever was going on would have already happened. I felt helpless and frustrated. Maybe Raffmir's plan was simply to make me feel as miserable and impotent as possible. If so, it was working.
I thought about Garvin's instruction to do my job. Then I thought about Blackbird and what she was doing now. Deefnir had been unable to breach their defences, so he had simply undermined them. Once outside the flat, they would be vulnerable. With glamour, Deefnir could be anywhere. He could be the fireman offering blankets or the kindly neighbour offering sweet tea and sympathy. It wouldn't be hard to get close.
