The Road to Bedlam

by Mike Shevdon

  "Tell us," said Krane, leaning forward from his huge dark-wood chair, "about this." He held up the plastic bottle containing the serum.

  I made a better job of describing what had happened this time, from the half-breed fey imprisoned in glasswalled cells, to the shotguns loaded with iron shot. The only thing I left out was what my daughter had done to Doctor Watkins's severed head. That was probably better left unreported.

  "And you say that Altair was funding this facility?" Teoth asked.

  "Yes, my Lord. Raffmir told me the Seventh Court had approved plans and funded it through a series of trusts and foundations."

  "Was there any sign of direct involvement from the Seventh Court, or any other Court, for that matter?" asked Barthia.

  "What are you implying, Barthia? asked Yonna. "You know none of us had anything to do with this."

  "I'm simply asking if there was any sign of direct fey involvement," stated the Ogre.

  "None that I saw, my Lady. Everything appears to have been done from a distance."

  "I see." She sat back, crossing her massive arms in front of her.

  "Are there any more questions for the Warders?" asked Krane.

  A slow ripple of shaking heads travelled around the room.

  "Very well. Will you leave Fellstamp with us, please, Garvin?" said Krane.

  "Yes, my Lord."

  I followed Garvin back through the double doors. He closed them gently behind us. Tate was waiting outside. He handed me my sword, sheathed in a new polished scabbard.

  I looked at Garvin. "I'm not being kicked out of the Warders, then?"

  "Kicked out?" asked Garvin. "Why would you be kicked out?"

  "You did tell me not to go after Alex," I admitted.

  "I told you not to go until you were ready, but I also gave you Warder's discretion." He guided me down the corridor away from the chamber, flanked by Tate.

  "There is no test for becoming a Warder. You train until you're ready and then you're in, straight into the crucible, no rehearsal, no safety net. You act with the full authority of the High Court and, for that reason alone, judgement is paramount."

  "But I made such a mess of the situation in Ravensby. I'm still not sure I did the right thing."

  "Where there is a clear course of action, where right and wrong are easily established, where the will of the courts is clear, the Warders are almost never needed. All we do is deliver the will of the Courts and they sort it out amongst themselves."

  He stopped and turned to face me.

  "The Warders are called in when it's messy, when there is no clear solution, or when there are too many solutions, all competing for attention. We are needed when there is no right, only a choice between multiple wrongs; where there is no justice, merely closure. We are called to act when no one else will, when it's already too late. That's what being a Warder means."

  "You make it sound so attractive."

  "Most Warders are chosen. They do not choose themselves."

  "So how did you become a Warder?"

  Garvin looked me in the eye and for a moment, I thought I saw a shadow there. Then it was gone.

  "That," he said, "is a story for another day." He squeezed my shoulder. "You have done well, and the job is not over yet. The High Court has heard your testimony and must decide what action is merited. Get some rest while you can. I will have someone wake you as soon as I have news."

  He gently propelled me towards the stairs and I used the momentum to keep going. There was no resistance left in me. As I mounted the staircase, I found that Tate had detached from Garvin and shadowed me.

  When I raised an eyebrow at him he simply said, "The Warders look after each other."

  I let him follow me back to the suite where Slimgrin paced the hallway. I found my daughter in bed and already asleep, despite her protests. She was curled under the covers so only her hair restlessly stirred as she slept. I stroked her head and the curls coiled around my fingers and relaxed. winding and unwinding as she breathed.

  "She didn't eat much in the end," said Fionh. "I think it was only a show for you."

  "How long has she been asleep?" I asked.

  Fionh looked at her. "Don't worry, I can handle it. She'll sleep for hours yet, probably well into tomorrow. She is a teenager, after all. Go and check on Blackbird. I can see you want to."

  I thanked her and left, Tate falling into step beside me.

  "Are you going to follow me everywhere?" I asked him.

  "Just until you get where you need to be."

  "I'm not sure I know where I need to be any more."

  "You'll figure it out."

  When we arrived at Blackbird's door, Amber let me in and then left with Tate. Blackbird was in bed, propped up on pillows.

  "Is she sleeping?" she asked.

  "Yes. It'll be quiet for a while now." I went over and sat on the bed beside her, taking her hand.

  "I overreacted," said Blackbird. "She didn't mean to hurt anyone."

  "Garvin says she's not in control of her power. I'm inclined to agree. She's going to have to learn to control her temper or she'll end up hurting someone, herself even."

  She pulled the quilt back and shuffled to the side of the bed.

  "Wouldn't you be better staying where you are?" I asked.

  "My back aches wherever I am. It does me good to move around a little." She rolled upright and stood, helping me ease out of my Warder greys, draping them over a chair so I could dress if I needed to, inspecting the gashes and scrapes I had acquired, issuing a gentle rebuke.

  "Next time, duck faster."

  I smiled as she stroked the knotted muscles in my shoulders and guided me into bed. She prodded me gently across the bed until she could slide in beside me and nestle into my shoulder, resting her belly against my flank. The bump gave a desultory kick, a token protest, but then moved and settled against me.

  Blackbird stroked my chest and hushed me when I tried to speak, pressing her fingertips against my lips to silence me. In the quiet grace of her comfort, I rested, and slept.

  The hand that shook me awake was calloused and not nearly as soft as Blackbird's. Tate's grizzled face looked down at me.

  "You awake?"

  "Sure, I'm awake. What's up?"

  "I've been shaking you for two minutes." The lie was obvious.

  "I thought you were rocking me in my sleep."

  He grinned. "You're awake. Get dressed. Garvin wants you downstairs. Five minutes."

  "Five?"

  "He said two, but I'm stretching the point since you already slept through those."

  "OK. Five minutes." I yawned.

  Tate left and I extracted myself gently from Blackbird's sleeping form. She mumbled in her sleep, but did not wake. I slipped into my greys, the familiarity of the uniform bringing its own comfort. Taking the pad on the dresser, I scrawled a simple note.

  Garvin called. Back Later.

  I collected my sword. Slimgrin was standing by the door when I left. He closed the door gently behind me and fell in beside me as we descended the stairs. I glanced sideways at him and he nodded.

  "All OK?" I asked him.

  He made the signs for sleeping, working and fighting: the fey equivalent of "no rest for the wicked".

  Garvin was waiting for us. He made no remark as to whether it had been two minutes or five. As soon as he joined us, he nodded to Fellstamp, who held a door open so that Krane could join us.

  "Is everything prepared?" Krane asked Garvin.

  "Tate has gone ahead. He will let us know if it's clear."

  "Very well. We should go."

  Garvin led the way down to the Way-node, while I walked alongside Krane, with Slimgrin and Fellstamp flanking us.

  Tate was waiting at the Way. "They have their cordon set up. We've been around their security. It's OK as far as it goes."

  "Did they see you?" asked Garvin.

  Tate grinned.

  "Good. I'll follow you in two minutes. Dogstar, you're next. Then
you, Lord Krane. Slimgrin and Fellstamp, bring up the rear."

  Tate vanished in a swirl and we waited the full two minutes. Then Garvin stepped forward and whirled away. I followed close behind, using the trail he left to guide me as I slipped around the nodes to our destination. I stepped into a damp dawn of muted birdsong and the smell of mown grass. Overhead, the sky was tinted pink as the sun tried to break through the grey clinging damply to the trees. I stepped off the Way-node where Garvin was waiting. There was the prickle of magic all around us as Garvin turned away curious eyes.

  "We're here as Lord Krane's escort. Just act natural. Let him do the talking."

  We'd arrived on an open lawn with strange rectangular mounds set into it, like low walls that were knocked down long ago so that the foundations were now subsumed into the grass. Ahead was a large building of toffee-coloured stone with a high pointed roof and tall leaded-glass windows. Through the mist in front of the hall I could see three large black cars. I counted five police officers carrying machine guns. There were more stationed further away at the gate in the high stone wall.

  "Are we expecting a fight?" I asked.

  Garvin shook his head as Krane arrived and stepped easily sideways. Slimgrin and Fellstamp slipped in behind him. Slimgrin walked away, melting into the mist. Garvin led the way, Krane came behind and I brought up the rear. As we approached the cars, Garvin let the glamour slip away. We were immediately noticed.

  The police angled their weapons across their chests in a kind of salute, demonstrating readiness without obvious threat. Krane simply nodded acknowledgment as if it were his due.

  A dark-suited man emerged. He ignored Garvin and me.

  "Lord Krane, delighted that you could join us." He bowed slightly. "Please come this way."

  He walked through an arched set of double doors into a high-arched open hall, with dark ancient beams rising over us and high stone pillars supporting the roof. It was impressive if it was half as old as I thought. What was remarkable about it, though, was not the hall itself but the walls. They were covered in horseshoes of every size and shape. Some were three or four feet across while others looked as if they might genuinely have shod horses. All four walls were adorned in this way, making the room smaller and somehow more intimate.

  The man withdrew, closing the double doors behind him. Fellstamp stayed at the doorway.

  In the centre of the hall was a modern french-polished table with three matching high-backed chairs arranged along either side. They looked out of place in the ancient setting. Three men were waiting on the opposite side of the room. Two wore dark suits, the other a light-grey suit: two heavies and a bank manager.

  The bank manager stepped forward. "In the name of Queen Elizabeth the Second, I bid you welcome to Oakham Castle, Lord Krane, and thank you for coming at such short notice. I am Secretary Carler and I greet you here in good faith."

  "Your welcome is appreciated, Secretary Carler. I bring you the felicitations of the Seven Courts and the wish for a speedy resolution to our current troubles, also in good faith."

  "The wish for a speedy resolution is reciprocated, I assure you." He smiled the bank manager smile, gesturing to the seats. Carler and Krane sat. The rest of us stood, facing each other.

  "I trust the arrangements are satisfactory?" asked the bank manager.

  "They are as we expected," said Krane, smiling.

  There was something wrong with the sound in the room. I looked about me, searching for the source. It was a kind of hollow reverse echo that preceded anything that was said. Then I realised. I couldn't hear the truth in the words that were being spoken. Something about the horseshoes, or the building itself, prevented me from discerning the truth. I raised an eyebrow at Garvin. He shook his head minutely.

  "If it is acceptable, we will get straight down to business," said Carler.

  When Krane didn't object, he picked up a sheet of paper from the table.

  "Last night there was a serious incident involving considerable loss of life and the destruction of buildings and equipment at Porton Down Research Facility in Wiltshire. We believe one or more of the Feyre were responsible for the incident. Do you dispute this assessment?"

  I noticed that his hands were shaking very slightly where he held the paper.

  "I don't dispute that there was an incident," said Krane.

  "Do you dispute that the Feyre were responsible?"

  "Responsibility can be difficult to assign. Is the sword responsible for the cut, or the swordsman?"

  "The swordsman," said the bank manager, without hesitation.

  "And yet," said Krane, "if the sword cuts out a cancer then the swordsman may be revealed as a surgeon, may he not?"

  "You don't remove a cancer with a sword, Lord Krane. You use a scalpel."

  Krane clasped his hands together on the table. "Just so."

  "Thirty-seven people are dead after last night. Thirtyseven deaths to explain to the families, and that's assuming the remaining victims survive. The destruction of a Crown facility on a high-security site, unexplained lights in the night sky, exploding aircraft, radiation burns – how are we supposed to keep this quiet?"

  "That is not our concern," said Krane, quietly.

  "It may become your concern."

  "I do not think so."

  "The Prime Minister is demanding an explanation from the Security Services and the Ministry of Defence. He's demanding full disclosure."

  "I trust that you can come up with an explanation that will… satisfy him."

  "My colleagues in Defence are demanding an inquiry."

  "That would not be wise."

  "I'm not sure if we can turn them down. This is getting beyond my ability to contain."

  "It has been beyond your ability to contain for some time."

  That prompted a sharp intake of breath. "Are you questioning my competence?"

  "No, I am questioning your control." Krane reached into his pocket and produced the plastic container with the vial inside. He placed it carefully on the table between them. His hands did not shake. He clasped his hands again and placed them on the table.

  "What's that?"

  "I believe the term is: a biological weapon."

  "Where did you get it?"

  "It originated at Porton Down."

  "Is that what you were after?"

  "No. Truly, we did not know it existed. Apparently, neither did you."

  "Then who made it?"

  "Perhaps," said Krane, "that should be the subject of your inquiry."

  The bank manager reached forward.

  "If you touch it," Krane said, "we will kill all of you." The hand halted in mid-air. "We are not in the habit of allowing weapons aimed against us to fall into hostile hands."

  The heavies reached inside their jackets. My hand and Garvin's dropped in perfect time to the hilts of our swords.

  "Your men will never draw their weapons in time," said Krane, quietly.

  The bank manager withdrew his hand slowly from the table and replaced it in his lap. The heavies slowly drew their hands back too, and Garvin and I lifted ours slowly from our swords. Everyone watched everyone else.

  "Perhaps it would be better if you retrieved your sample," said Carler.

  Krane reached forward, took the plastic container and returned it to his coat.

  Carler put as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. "We did not, and have not, sanctioned the development of a biological weapon to be used against the Feyre."

  "That you know of," said Krane. "Nevertheless, one has been created."

  "I can assure you that we had no knowledge of this."

  "We have a treaty, Secretary Carler. The treaty was made long before you were born. Guillaume was both clever and capable, and when he sealed our bargain he got more than he hoped for. Since that time your kind have spread and become far more numerous than even we expected. Regardless, we gave our word and we will keep it–"

  "That's good to hear–" began Carler.
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  "–as long as you keep your side of the bargain," said Krane.

  "We have acted in good faith–"

  "The hoarding of weapons against the Feyre is specifically prohibited in the treaty."