The Lost Queen

by Frewin Jones

  “They are wound about with protective incantations,” Sancha said. “Not so easily will they be defeated.” She looked thoughtfully at Zara. “We already know that Zara can sing enchantments. Her scream came from the same source, I do not doubt.”

  “It came from being fearful for my life in that dreadful place!” Zara said, her words slightly muffled by a bagel.

  “You took her to a nightclub?” Edric asked Tania in obvious surprise.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had a feeling that we were being followed. And I was right; the knight came in after us.” Tania frowned. “It was the weirdest thing,” she said. “He just strolled through there and no one batted an eyelid. And you know how freaky they look. It’s not like you wouldn’t notice one of them in a crowd. Are they invisible to humans or what?”

  “Not invisible,” Sancha said. “Say rather that mortal folk choose not to see them. I have read many books on the customs and manners of mortals. They seem to have a great capacity for ignoring those things that do not conform to their narrow system of beliefs.”

  “They’re really not that bad,” Tania said.

  “Indeed, they are that bad!” Cordelia said. “They wield power without thought or responsibility, and that is ever the act of a wayward child.”

  “What power do you mean?” Tania asked.

  Cordelia gestured toward the light fitting in the ceiling.

  “Electricity isn’t dangerous,” Tania said. “Well, it is, but we’ve learned how to keep it under control. So long as people don’t act stupidly with it, it’s really useful. In fact in a society like this, I’m not sure we’d be able to survive without electricity.”

  “And that does not concern you?” Cordelia exclaimed. “That you are beholden to a power that you do not understand and over which you have no control?”

  “We can control it,” Tania said. “We can switch it on and off whenever we like. And as for not understanding it—well, okay, I don’t know exactly how electricity is made, but it’s like that for a lot of things. I don’t know how to fly an airplane or how to do open-heart surgery or make a pair of shoes, but I don’t need to. Other people do those things for me.”

  “And that is the peril,” Cordelia said. “To rely on others for your survival is foolhardy. Were I cast from the palace in nothing but my shift, I would endure and thrive. I know how to make fire for warmth and light; I know how to defend myself against danger. I know how to seek for fresh water, and what is good to eat in the forest and what must be avoided. I can grow grain and roots, and I know the seasons to sow and to harvest. Can the same be said for the beings who inhabit this rat’s-warren of a city?”

  “Well, no, I don’t suppose so,” Tania admitted. “If something goes wrong and you have an electrical blackout, then you’re kind of…helpless.”

  “Helpless, indeed,” Cordelia said. “But we are not helpless, not even against the peril that has come upon us from Lyonesse. Not while we have our wits and our swords.”

  “I keep telling you,” Tania said. “I don’t know how to use a sword.”

  “Then you must practice and remember,” said Cordelia. “Come, I shall give you a lesson. Do not fear, I shall not prick you more often than the need for sharp lessons dictates.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather have Edric give me a lesson,” Tania said, unsure of submitting herself to Cordelia’s idea of suitable teaching methods. At least she knew Edric would do his utmost to avoid hurting her. She looked down the table at him. “If that’s okay?”

  “I can do that,” he said. “Princess Cordelia, can you fetch the swords? Then we need to find some space to work in.”

  “There’s a big room at the back,” Tania said. “They use it as a dining room on special occasions. If we move the table and chairs, there’ll be plenty of room.”

  “So be it,” Cordelia said, getting up. “Let the lessons commence!”

  “Watch your footwork!” Edric called. “You have to stay balanced and you have to be thinking two moves ahead. You’re holding the sword too low. If I aimed a cut at your neck, you wouldn’t be able to parry in time.” He made a startling sideways leap, ducking in under the wild swing of Tania’s sword and aiming a slicing sweep at shoulder height, then jumping backward again so that he was beyond her reach almost before she knew what was going on.

  “There you are,” he said, hardly even out of breath. “I’ve just cut off your head. Now what are you going to do?”

  “Cancel my next hairdressing appointment, I guess,” Tania responded gloomily.

  They were in the sunlit back lounge of the Andersons’ house. The long dark-wood table had been put against the wall. Cordelia and Zara were sitting on it, Cordelia cross-legged, bent forward, watching intently; Zara more carefree, leaning back, letting her legs swing. Sancha was watching quietly from a chair.

  So far, Tania hadn’t remembered a single thing about how to use the sword that she had been given. It felt clumsy and unwieldy and despite Edric and her sisters’ best efforts to instruct her in the basics of a fighting technique, whenever Edric lunged at her everything went clean out of her head and all she could do was to stand there swiping randomly with the blade.

  “Tania, you do but swat at flies!” Cordelia shouted. “Parry, thrust, riposte! It is all in the wrist and the feet!”

  “Not helping!” Tania growled—but at least Cordelia wasn’t laughing like Zara or looking increasingly worried like Sancha.

  Cordelia jumped off the table and came over to where Tania was standing.

  “The truest and surest blow is from above,” she said, taking Tania’s sword arm and lifting it, angling her wrist so the point of the blade was aimed toward the center of Edric’s chest. “But to make the approach you must first draw your left foot close to your right foot and lunge forward as forcibly as you may, ending in the low ward.”

  “Ending in the what?”

  “If your opponent moves to the right, follow through with a slash to the head,” Cordelia continued, ignoring her question. “To defend yourself against the same blow, stand in the low ward, take the coming blow by the edge, and push your enemy’s sword to the right, stepping in all the time. Keep the point of your sword down toward the enemy, so that with luck he will impale himself on your blade as he follows through.”

  “What’s a low ward?”

  “High ward is with the arm raised and the sword pointing down,” Zara called. “Low ward is with the arm lowered and the sword pointing upward.”

  “We could take a break if you like?” Edric said.

  “No way!” Tania said. “I’m going to get this right. Come at me again with that head-slicing thing.”

  He lunged toward her, his sword arm up, the point down. She took a deliberate step back, her own blade in the low ward position.

  She tried to do as Cordelia had suggested, stepping suddenly toward him, coming in low, bringing her blade up against the side of his and pushing it away. But she had misjudged his speed and strength. Her sword slipped and they crashed together; she felt a sharp pain in her wrist as his sword-point nicked her skin.

  Tania’s reaction to the pain was immediate and instinctive. She spun her sword up across his, knocking his blade cleanly to the right; then she took a long step backward with her right foot, shifting her balance and coming in easily on his undefended left side, lunging and thrusting solidly at his stomach, knowing that the rising blade would push up under his ribs and pierce his heart.

  She stopped the move with perfect precision, the point of her sword only an inch away from his body. And then, before he could react, she took a well-balanced bound backward and came to rest in a poised, defensive posture.

  “A hit!” Cordelia cried, clapping loudly. “A thrust to the very heart!”

  Edric stood grinning at her. “That was amazing,” he said. “I’m dead and I didn’t even see it coming.”

  “The old skills return anew,” Sancha said, smiling now. “It i
s good.”

  Edric’s face fell as he saw the spot of blood on her wrist. “I hurt you,” he said.

  “It’s nothing,” Tania said. “And it helped.” It was as if a long-closed door in her mind had been kicked open. She knew how to use the crystal sword. She knew how to attack and how to defend herself. And it had all come back to her in that instant of pain. Only one question remained in her mind now—and it was not one she felt like sharing.

  If it did come down to a life and death face-off between her and one of those Gray Knights, would she really be able to use the sword on him? Even if it was to save her own life, did she have it in her to kill?

  It was a little while later and they were all gathered in Jade’s bedroom. Tania was sitting in front of the computer. She had opened the Pleiades website to the page that showed the photo of Lilith Mariner.

  “It is our mother indeed,” Zara said, her trembling fingers reaching out toward the computer screen. “Oh, how it fills my heart to see her beloved face again after so long a time.” She looked excitedly at Cordelia and Sancha. “Do you see?”

  “I do,” Sancha said. “It is a blessing to know that five hundred years in the Mortal World has done no harm to the Queen—none that can be seen, in any hap.”

  “How was this likeness created?” Cordelia asked, peering over Tania’s shoulder. “I see no brush work, yet it has the look of oil and pigment in the hands of a master artist.”

  “It’s a photo,” Tania told her. “It’s another bit of gear that I can’t really explain,” she said with a half-smile. “It comes from a small metal box. You point it at someone and press the button, and there you are. An instant picture.” She looked at the empty digital camera cradle at the side of the computer. “I’d be happy to show you how it works, but Jade’s taken hers on holiday.”

  “At another time, perhaps,” Zara said. She grimaced at the computer. “The noise of this machine makes my head hurt,” she said. “Thank you for showing us our mother’s likeness, but with your leave I will await you below.”

  “As will I,” Cordelia added. “In truth, your contutor buzzes like a nest of summer wasps!”

  “Computer,” Tania said quietly. “Sorry, I’ll turn it off now.” She was surprised that the low humming was bothering them so much—she was hardly even aware of it.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Edric said. “Sancha? Coffee?”

  “That would be kind,” Sancha said.

  A few moments later Tania was left with only Sancha standing at her side as she closed down the computer.

  “I saw that there were words on the machine,” Sancha said, staring at the blank screen. “But I cannot feel them; they are not real to me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “A word written in a book has texture, it has form, it is a thing of ink, a real thing, a thing with substance. But I can feel nothing within your machine. It is as empty to me as the face of the moon.” She touched a very tentative finger to the top corner of the screen. “No, I see nothing.”

  “That’s because I’ve switched it off.”

  “You do not understand,” Sancha said. “Remain seated, and I shall explain my meaning to you.” She moved away so that she was standing behind Jade’s desk, facing Tania. She lifted her hand and made a small twirling movement of her fingers.

  Tania heard a soft sliding sound. She turned her head and saw one of Jade’s books slip off the shelf and float toward her. Sancha’s fingers moved again. The book hung in the air in front of Tania and opened itself, its cover toward Sancha so that she could not see the pages.

  “Behold words of ink,” Sancha said. “Words on paper. Look to the top of the left-hand page. ‘David was back within ten minutes. “All done,” he said. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves now. Come on, let’s see if we can find out anything about that White Lady.”’”

  They were the exact words that Tania’s eyes were following in the book. She glanced at Sancha. Her sister’s face had gone blank, save for two deep lines between her eyebrows. Her eyes were half closed, the irises hidden under the fallen lids so that only a thin white line was visible.

  “How are you doing that?” Tania asked. “You know what’s written in the book without reading it, don’t you?”

  Sancha opened her eyes. “It is part of my gift,” she said. “I can feel the substance of written words even if they are not visible to me. In a library as vast as the one in the palace, it is a useful ability, would you not say?”

  “Extremely useful, I should think,” Tania said.

  Sancha pointed to the computer. “But I see nothing in the machine. There is no life in there, no depth.”

  “I wish we’d had you with us when we went to the place where Titania works,” Tania said. “You could have just read her telephone number and her home address from their personnel files.” Her voice trailed off.

  “What is the matter?” Sancha asked.

  “I’ve had an idea,” Tania said, springing out of the chair. She ran from the room and bounded down the stairs. “Edric! Cordie! Zara!”

  “In here,” came Edric’s voice from the kitchen.

  Tania ran in with Sancha close on her heels. Edric was standing by the kettle. Zara was at the table, spooning up the remnants of chocolate spread from the jar. Cordelia was at the window, gazing into the garden.

  “Sancha can read things from a distance,” she announced. “Without having to see them.”

  “This is known to us, Tania,” Zara said with a puzzled frown.

  Tania looked at Edric. “What information did we want from that man at Pleiades?”

  “Lilith Mariner’s phone number, for a start,” Edric said. His eyes sparked with understanding. “You think Sancha might be able to read the number off her file?”

  “Her phone number, her home address, the lot.” Tania turned to Sancha. “If we take you to the place where Titania works, could you do that? Could you read her file?”

  “If ink has been applied to paper, then time and silence are all the tools I will need,” Sancha said.

  “We have to go there,” Tania said. “We have to go there right now!”

  XVIII

  It was mid-afternoon. Tania and Edric and the three princesses were standing in the paved courtyard outside unit five of the Spenser Road Forum. Banners of thin white cloud straggled across the sky, but it was warm when the sun broke free, although in the shade a keen east wind took the edge off the summer heat and more than once Tania had felt a chill on her neck that made her think that Gray Knights were near. Not that they had seen any sign of them on their way here from the Andersons’ home.

  Tania had not been looking forward to getting her three sisters all the way to Richmond, especially not since the quickest and easiest route was via the Underground. She had feared that the noise and the crush and the claustrophobic nature of a tube train might freak them out, but they had endured the journey in tight-lipped silence, keeping close together, braced against the cacophony as the carriage had rattled its way through the tunnels.

  Surprisingly to Tania, Zara had showed the least fear. She had sat between her two sisters, holding their hands and, when the noise levels permitted, comforting them with quiet words. Cordelia had been the worst affected, flinching away when other passengers passed by her in the aisle, jumping at the hiss and clatter of the doors.

  Sancha and Zara had stayed on either side of her when they had finally come up out of the Underground system and had begun the brief walk through Richmond to Spenser Road.

  “The animals are strange here,” Cordelia had remarked at one point. “In the song of the birds I can hear lamentations for the loss of the wildwoods. Although they are drawn to this place, they say that the mortals who dwell here are wasteful and dangerous. Many birds die by mischance and cruelty in the brick and stone canyons of the city, but those that live grow fat on discarded mortal food. And I sense foxes and squirrels and other small beasts, although they are hidden now from the sun. But th
ey smell strange to me, tainted by eating mortal food and walking mortal streets, and they have lost the ways of the wood. But other beasts thrive and are merry, rats and spiders and the animals that live on shadows and decay. And the insects care nothing for mortals, for they have been here since before time began, and they will be here still when even the memory of this place and of the race that built it has been dust for a million million years.”

  Shortly afterward, they had arrived at the wrought-iron gateway of the Spenser Road Forum. They had stepped into the sunken courtyard and walked across it to stand together outside the red-brick facade of the Pleiades Legal Group.

  Shining images of the cloud-striped sky filled the tall windows. The sun reflected off the steel-and-glass doors that led to the reception area.

  Cordelia was staring into the sky and frowning.

  “All will be well,” Zara said, taking her hand. “We will be with our mother soon.”

  Cordelia looked at her, but to Tania it seemed that her sister’s clear blue eyes were still full of the sky. “The birds are uneasy,” she said. “They smell evil moving on the air.”

  “Is it the knights?” Sancha asked. “Are they near?”

  Cordelia lifted her head. “I smell horses that are not horses,” she said. “Their breath is cold; their brazen hooves strike sparks on the stones. They draw closer.” She looked at Tania. “Do your business in this place as swift as you may. We should not have left our swords behind.”

  Cordelia had argued for them to come here armed, but Tania and Edric had convinced the others that it would be impossible to carry their swords through the city without being arrested.

  “Will you stay out here with Cordelia and Zara?” Tania asked Edric. Sancha had already told her that she would need to be inside the building in order to be able to seek out Lilith Mariner’s records.

  “Of course. Be as quick as you can.”