And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  "He sent Chancellor Rich to me to propose that if I would come to London and there give up my claim to the throne he would reward me with rich lands and heaps of gold. The Chancellor brought two brooches and a tiara as earnests of the treasure that would be mine."

  "You did not touch them did you?" Pasgen asked sharply.

  "No, you may be sure she did not," Denoriel replied; Pasgen had once set a spell into a jewel that nearly killed Elizabeth. "Nor was Rich himself allowed to approach her, although he tried. He asked the honor of kissing her hand, which she could not allow because she was shielded. She said she was afraid to transmit her illness to him. Elizabeth has used the excuse of that attack I told Harry of to take to her bed."

  "How can you give up a claim you do not yet have?" Harry asked, frowning. He had been thinking about the political implications of Rich's visit.

  "That is the answer I gave to Rich," Elizabeth replied. "I told him that they must first make their agreement with Lady Mary since during her lifetime I had no claim or title to resign."

  "Oh, Holy Mother," Rhoslyn sighed, "nothing will make Mary resign her right to the throne. That much Northumberland clearly understands. He is taking another tack with Mary." She looked around the table. "He is trying to kill her."

  "I warned you," Denoriel said.

  "Oh, keep good watch," Elizabeth cried. "If anything happens to Mary . . ."

  Rhoslyn nodded. "Your warning was just in time, Denoriel. If I had not been made so anxious, likely I would not have watched the food. After all, Mary's servants have long been in her employ and all of them love her. But there was poison." Rhoslyn shivered. "I upset the platter on which it was served so no one could eat from it, but one of Mary's little dogs licked the stuff from the floor . . . and it died."

  Elizabeth's eyes had grown large. "But you said her servants love her. Surely they would not—"

  "No, not Mary's servants, but when they were hard pressed to answer for the dog's death, we discovered there were very loose practices in hiring casually acquired helpers. And one of them had disappeared soon after the dog died." Rhoslyn's lips thinned to a hard line. "That practice is now ended."

  "You need not worry, Elizabeth," Aleneil said. "Since the attack no one is allowed into Hatfield except those who are your own servants. Produce and other supplies are delivered to the gate and our servants carry it in."

  "Very wise," Rhoslyn said. "I wish we could convince Lady Mary to take such precautions. On Sunday there came to Hunsdon an elderly man. Susan Clarienceaux admitted him and when I objected because I did not like the way his eyes glittered, she said he was old and weak and wished to talk to Mary of God. Susan thought such a discussion would be a good distraction for our lady."

  "What happened?" Harry asked.

  "I felt a long knife with ill substance on it concealed in his clothes, so . . . so I stopped his heart before he ever came into Mary's presence."

  "Good!" Elizabeth said emphatically, "But you should have made the threat clear."

  "Oh, I did. I made sure that the knife fell out of his doublet so everyone recognized the threat. Mary then agreed to be careful about whom she permitted to petition her." Rhoslyn sighed and shook her head. "She is afraid, but she has never allowed her fears to interfere with what she felt was her duty. She has the courage of a martyr."

  "Well, watch her close," Denoriel urged irritably. "I do not want her to drag Elizabeth into martyrdom with her. She will be a terrible queen, but she must rule before Elizabeth."

  "But what am I to do?" Rhoslyn asked anxiously. "That one elderly man, clearly intense and excited, should die is nothing to raise any comment, but if another and then another die, surely Northumberland will use that, call Mary a witch or say she used her faith to curse those who came to remonstrate with her."

  Harry said, "We spoke of this before. The next attack, if there is one, must be ended by ordinary means. I assume you must be with the attacker to . . . ah . . . terminate him. If you are always there, you might be tied to the deaths. Can you not put in one of the guards' minds a compulsion to kill anyone who is a danger, Rhoslyn?"

  Rhoslyn shook her head vehemently. "Not unless I take the man over completely, and then he could never succeed in stopping a determined attacker. To use someone else's body . . . that is very difficult. If I just made him want to kill a petitioner, he would wonder why he felt that way and try to reason himself into doing the deed—but by then, likely the attack would have succeeded."

  Pasgen sighed heavily. "I suppose it is now time for me to do my part. I will go to the mortal world with Rhoslyn so she can point out the guard most commonly closest to Lady Mary. At need I will take on his appearance and do the killing and Rhoslyn will make the man's memories match what I have done."

  Harry laughed. "I wish I had Rhoslyn's persuasive powers when I was in the mortal world. Heaven knows no one seemed willing to believe the reasons for my most innocent excursions."

  "Were they innocent?" Rhoslyn looked up at him through her long black lashes.

  "More innocent than I wished," Harry said, blushing and returning her teasing glance with one combining pleading and admiration.

  "Do you want me to bind an air spirit to you Rhoslyn, so you can let Pasgen know when you need him?" Aleneil asked.

  For a fleeting moment Pasgen's expression darkened with regret as he remembered how he had killed one of those innocent sprites when he was still serving Vidal, but all he said was, "No air spirit will come to me. It does not matter, Rhoslyn and I have a way of knowing when we need each other."

  His hand rose and touched the small furry snakelike creature that nestled under the collar of his shirt. He knew that a similar construction was concealed somewhere on Rhoslyn. If either of them were alarmed or in danger the little construct would tremble as would its counterpart. The greater the danger, the more violent the quaking.

  That had been sufficient until the time Rhoslyn had lost the Gate and been temporarily trapped in an Unformed land. Pasgen had nearly gone mad because he knew Rhoslyn was afraid and in danger—and he did not know where she was to come to her rescue. Later, when she had extricated herself from her difficulties, he bespelled the constructs so that he would also know where Rhoslyn was when she was in trouble.

  Pasgen had not told Rhoslyn at first because he did not want her to come to face danger with him; later he realized how foolish that was. If she knew he was threatened from the convulsing of the furry snake and she could not reach him and he died . . . No, he could not inflict the grief and horror that would cause on his twin. Not after how she had suffered because of Llanelli's death. He was all she had. Better they be dead together, he thought, and bespelled her construct so she would know where he was.

  Denoriel noticed the movement of Pasgen's hand, but he asked no questions. Pasgen was strong in magic, possibly strong enough to be considered a Magus Major, but he kept his abilities to himself. Denoriel understood. For a Sidhe raised in the Unseleighe Court everyone, including his blood relations if he had any, was an enemy. If Pasgen revealed his secrets to anyone, he would be sure that person would use the secrets against him. In fact, his mind might well know that was not true, that his half-sister and half-brother would not want or try to hurt him, but suspicion was trained into him.

  He also noticed Harry's concern for Rhoslyn. There was something brewing there, Denoriel thought, absently replying to a question from Elizabeth. Harry had been living with him since Mwynwen had taken a new lover. Denoriel was pleased and relieved that Harry and the healer had parted so amicably, that Harry was not mortally wounded by the loss of his Sidhe lover as so many humans were.

  Harry had never been much of a student, but he was clever about people. He had come to understand that what Mwynwen sought in him was the child she had called Richie, Harry's simulacrum. And while Harry was still very sick with elfshot poisoning, he had been dependent, like a child. But as the years passed, Harry was cured—and grown into an adult in his mind, no matter how young Underhi
ll kept his body. Thinking and acting like a man had reduced Harry's appeal and made Mwynwen indifferent.

  Luckily Harry had been growing indifferent too, tired of being regarded as a child. He had made friends among the elder Sidhe and engaged in some very risky enterprises that absorbed him completely—until he met Rhoslyn. Denoriel thought she might have attracted Harry at first because she was dark like Mwynwen and also very beautiful. But what drew Harry most was that Rhoslyn was a lonely, vulnerable creature, who had rejected the Unseleighe Court but was not acceptable to the Seleighe.

  For a moment Pasgen thought that Denoriel would ask about the means he and Rhoslyn had for communication, but his half-brother did not ask, just looked from Harry to Rhoslyn. And then the server approached the table and everyone's attention was riveted. This time it looked like a besom broom stood on its handle. Two sturdy twigs extended from the pole to make arms and hands and the pole had somehow been split to form two legs. That was odd enough, but the besom itself seemed to be brightly on fire.

  "What will the patrons have?" The words hissed and crackled.

  "Does it occur to anyone," Pasgen said, "that we have never had the same server twice. Can working here be so fraught that new servers are hired every week?"

  "It's the same one," Rhoslyn said after studying it for a moment. "I mean, whatever it looks like, it's the same construct."

  "Don't you know it is not polite to make personal remarks, even about a lowly server?"

  There were two black places in the burning besom that stood for eyes, an upright slit between them for a nose, and a larger, round black place for a mouth. Burning strands around the top and bottom of that round place moved up and down and in and out when the besom spoke.

  "I would like to meet your maker," Rhoslyn said, her voice full of concern. "Clearly you are self-aware."

  "Of course I am self-aware. I am my maker, and I am not a construct," the besom snapped.

  "I beg your pardon," Rhoslyn exclaimed, flushing painfully.

  "Your forms are extreme," Harry said quickly, with a touch of anger. "I must admit it did not occur to me that you were alive."

  "Are you going to have steak with mushrooms and onions again?" the server asked.

  "It certainly is the same being," Harry said, dryly, "and one with a very good memory. I had that to eat some time ago."

  "And the blond one had stew that same day."

  "Yes, I did," Pasgen agreed. "From what are you hiding that you alter your form so drastically and so often?"

  The besom turned its hollow black eye-spots on Pasgen. "Unseleighe," it said. "Only Unseleighe think that way." The burning head shook back and forth and turned to Denoriel. "Do you think that way?"

  "I, too, wonder why you do it," Denoriel replied.

  The besom sighed heavily, causing flames to gyrate wildly and a burning sliver fell from its mouth to the table. Elizabeth put out a cautious finger to feel the heat, but there was no heat, and the flame winked out when her finger touched the burning thing.

  "You have been too long among mortals," the besom said. "I do it because it amuses me. Any Bright Court Sidhe should know that. Think of the things you do for amusement. Now what do you all want to eat and drink. I do have other patrons to serve."

  Aleneil suddenly laughed. "It would amuse Ilar too." She shook her head. "What is your normal form? None at all, I guess, but you have a perfect memory. How strange. I will have a clear soup and a cold collation."

  Elizabeth, who had been very quiet, looking at the scrap of . . . something . . . that had been burning, gave her order, for roast venison, new peas, and baked turnips last. When the server had stalked away, she said, "Things are often not at all what they appear, not only here but in the mortal world too."

  "Whatever do you mean, my love?" Denoriel asked.

  "Have you not heard what Rhoslyn said about Mary? That there were actual attempts on Mary's life?"

  Denoriel lifted his brows. "So? What is your problem? Do you envy Mary the attention?"

  "Denno!" Elizabeth protested, laughing because he often said she craved attention, then sobered. "Do you not realize that if Rhoslyn was not there with her special abilities, either of those attempts might well have succeeded? Both were well planned and almost impossible, I suspect, to be traced to their initiator."

  "That's true, Bess, but what is so significant . . ." Harry frowned and then added, "Oh, I see. You think the attempts on you were not so well planned."

  Elizabeth nodded. "Not that Denno did not protect me better than anyone else, but even if he had not been there, my guardsmen would have routed the men who attacked us. There were not enough of them and they were not trained soldiers. And there is another thing, even more significant. If Northumberland wanted to take me prisoner, why did he send the messenger at all? Why did he simply not send a troop of guards in Royal livery? To fight them would be treason."

  "Likely he did not want anyone to see you taken by Royal guards." Harry said.

  "Why not, Da? It would not be strange for the king to send a Royal guard to escort his sister. Who would know I was being taken unwilling?"

  "That is a very reasonable question," Pasgen said, "and when coupled with the gift of jewels . . . Are you sure Prince Denoriel that it was Northumberland who sent the troop to attack and sent Rich with such a stupid proposition and . . . hmmm . . . jewels?"

  "That is a question I have been asking myself," Elizabeth said, nodding at Pasgen; it was the first recognition she had given him and considering they were talking about bespelled jewels significant. "I think we have two threads tangled. The messenger was, indeed, from Northumberland, but the attackers and those stones . . ."

  "Vidal is a great one for using amulets," Pasgen said. Then he looked fully at Elizabeth. "I am not trying to excuse myself for what I did. I should have refused. It was a terrible thing to do to a child . . . and I am sorry for it. I wished to say that."

  Rhoslyn briefly touched her brother's cheek and Elizabeth again nodded. "He was your lord. It was your duty to obey him. It is a very hard thing when your lord orders something you know is wrong. I saw that in my father's Court more than once."

  It was not the same thing at all, Pasgen knew, but he was glad of the raprochement with Elizabeth and felt no inclination to make himself less in her opinion. But it was not duty but fear and self-interest that had made him obedient to Vidal. And then he shrugged mentally. Was it not, except for a few noble souls, the same in the mortal world, that fear and self-interest made men obedient to their king?

  Before Pasgen needed to decide what to say, the server was again approaching their table. Remembering the little hands on the broad arms which had delivered plates the previous week, Harry craned his neck to see the server, but the burning besom was wheeling a service cart in the most ordinary way. The only extraordinary happening was that the server did not need to ask which dish went to which person. Each was delivered correctly and when Rhoslyn, guiltily, said "Thank you," the server nodded its burning head and said, "Accepted. Enjoy," and went away.

  "I am free of Vidal now," Pasgen said when the creature was gone, then he smiled at Elizabeth. "How did you resist those jewels? Aleneil has told us how you love them."

  Elizabeth shivered slightly but cut and lifted a slice of the venison without any diminution in her appetite. "I assure you they did not tempt me. Even wrapped in silk there was . . . something ugly about them. And the ring on Chancellor Rich's hand, the beautiful yellow diamond, that too had . . . I do not know how to explain it, but it was like seeing though an illusion, only it was not with my eyes that I saw. Something is in that diamond. But how could Chancellor Rich get a diamond bespelled by Vidal Dhu?"

  "Too easily." Pasgen swallowed his mouthful, and his lips thinned. "While I was still Vidal's servant, I established a human 'sorceror' called Fagildo Otstargi and made him quite fashionable at Court. Otstargi predicted the future and gave advice to King Henry's courtiers. I suppose when I decided to leave Vidal's service,
I should have 'killed' Otstargi in some very public way, but truthfully I had lost interest and forgot about him. Now Vidal is using that character—I think for the same purpose I used it."

  "But how could Vidal hire a troop of humans to attack Elizabeth?" Harry asked. "No. If one of them should have been taken prisoner, Otstargi would have been exposed."

  "Vidal might have done that before the mist trapped him," Pasgen said. "He acted then as if the whole world was blind, deaf, and stupid. But he is much more cautious now. There is also a human healer who lives in Otstargi's house. Currently he is attending on the little king—"

  "Not harming him!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

  "No, no. I think he is doing all that he can to keep King Edward alive. Vidal wants Mary on the throne, but the uncertainty about Edward's health and the succession is providing the Unseleighe Court with plenty of power."

  "Not 'us with plenty of power'?" Elizabeth asked, but there was curiosity not animosity in her voice.