And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Of course. Northumberland knows that and it is why he decided Mary must die. He cannot have her as queen bringing back the Catholic rite, and in that, according to Chancellor Rich, the whole Court agrees to some extent. They have all been following the reformed religion and some have pressed Mary hard to conform."

  "Yes. I understand. I will be doubly careful and present what you tell me to the other ladies as a fearful speculation."

  "No, you do not understand," Vidal said, his voice sharper. "If you and Mary's other servants contrive to keep her safe from secret attacks, Northumberland is so desperate that he is prepared to use force."

  "Force?" Rhoslyn breathed. "What kind of force? Will he bring the army to attack Hunsdon? Oh, I think the whole country would rise if he did that."

  "What Rich told me was that Northumberland will write to Mary and bid her come to Greenwich, or perhaps London, to say fare well to her dying brother. On the road a large detachment of royal guards will meet her. There would be nothing to arouse popular suspicion in an honor guard being sent out to greet Mary. Rich does not know where they would take her, but she will be a prisoner then and easy prey to an 'accident' or 'illness'."

  "I see." Rhoslyn stood biting her lip. "Oh, it will be very hard to dissuade her from going to Edward. She will hope for a last minute conversion that would save his soul."

  "That is no problem. I have already directed Rich to arrange for a high nobleman, recently restored to favor, to ride secretly to Mary and tell her her brother is already dead and the message a mere ruse to bring her into Northumberland's power."

  "What nobleman?" Roslyn asked. "I am not certain Mary will believe just anyone."

  Vidal shook his head. "That I cannot tell you. Rich himself did not know which of the courtiers he would be able to convince to ride to Mary without betraying him to Northumberland. As for who Mary will believe, surely you can do that much to her mind without any hint of the meddling getting back to Oberon."

  Rhoslyn sighed thinking that if an idea inserted into Mary's mind could take root, by now she would dearly love her sister Elizabeth. In fact, when Rhoslyn slipped thoughts of Elizabeth's fondness for Mary herself or of how clever and dignified Elizabeth had become into Mary's mind, they only seemed to make Mary distrust herself and cling more firmly to her past judgement that Elizabeth was a bastard who would drive out the old faith.

  "It is not easy to influence Mary's mind on most things," she said slowly. "Oh, I could easily make her even more of a fanatic about her religion, but in most things she is so distrustful of herself that if I try to make her think this or that nobleman is trustworthy, she will immediately suspect herself of some weakness toward him and send him away."

  "This is too important to leave in the hands of someone so unsure of herself, so afraid to act," Aurilia sneered. "We need Mary safe, not a lot of excuses for her failure." She put a hand on Vidal's arm. "Is there not some Sidhe you could send to take Rhoslyn's place, my lord?"

  Rhoslyn laughed. "After my being Mary's servant for nearly twenty years? Who could know how I act, what I am accustomed to say, who are my intimates. No, there is no one who could take my place and to send a new servant . . . She would not be allowed anywhere near Mary. I am what you have, but I do care for Lady Mary and I assure you I will do my very best to keep her safe. I thank you for the warning you have given."

  Vidal patted Aurilia's hand. He knew she did not like Rhoslyn. Well, he was not too fond of Rhoslyn himself, but she was right about her position with Mary. And Vidal was certain Rhoslyn spoke the truth about her fondness for Mary and would protect her.

  He would have liked Pasgen, who was considerably more powerful, to have joined with his sister in protecting Mary from Northumberland's plots. Vidal's eyes narrowed. He would indeed send a message to the empty house. He would send a message to Pasgen detailing the danger in which Mary was and Roslyn with her.

  "We have a little time," Vidal said, "a few days at least, perhaps a week or two until the boy is dead." Something moved, a darker shadow in the shadow by the door. Vidal's eyes flicked to it and then fixed on Rhoslyn's face. "I will think about what help I can send that will cause no disturbance in Mary's household." He nodded. "And now you had better do as you suggested and go back to guard your lady."

  Rhoslyn was surprised. She had been sure that Vidal was going to make some suggestion concerning the guarding of Mary before he had momentarily looked away. However, the movement of his eyes had been so swift before they came back to her face that she assumed a conflicting thought had changed his mind about speaking. In any case she had no intention of lingering when she had been given leave to go. Holding such strong shields was draining and she did not want to draw on the disgusting power of Caer Mordwyn.

  The door opened and then closed behind Rhoslyn. Vidal waited, watching Aurilia's face. When the frown on her brow smoothed, which indicated that Rhoslyn was gone, he looked again at the shadows near the door and gestured.

  A small, pallid Sidhe fell to his knees. Slowly, clearly unwillingly, at another gesture he crawled forward until he was near the dais on which Vidal's and Aurilia's almost-thrones sat.

  "And have you bespoke the Evil in Alhambra?" Vidal asked. "And where have you been all this while?"

  The small Sidhe, trembling, his form wavering slightly, did not reply directly to Vidal's questions. Instead, he said, "If Rhoslyn is your servant, lord prince, she is a traitor." His voice squeaked with fear.

  "I said so, my lord," Aurilia remarked with satisfaction.

  "I am not greatly surprised," Vidal said calmly, "but she serves a necessary purpose now. When I have no need of her, I will . . ." Actually he did not know what he would or could do. To deal with Rhoslyn meant a confrontation with Pasgen and he was not sure he was ready for that, but he was not going to expose that weakness. He let his voice fade and fixed his gaze on the shadow-Sidhe. "I will do what is necessary. But what makes you say she is a traitor, Dakari?"

  "Because I know her. I have seen her in the company of two of the elder Sidhe and of that mortal marked with Oberon's star. They were all together in Alhambra. The mortal serves the Bright Court and the elder Sidhe—"

  Vidal made an impatient gesture and Dakari fell silent. "The mortal is nothing. He has no magic at all. Only Oberon's protection keeps him alive."

  As he said the words, Vidal remembered Harry's gun and the iron dart that had almost killed him. But that was in the mortal world and after a battle with Denoriel; here Underhill Vidal knew his power was far greater. Nonetheless he did not choose to think about Henry FitzRoy.

  "And the elder Sidhe do not well know the difference between Dark Court and Bright," he continued hastily. "I would liefer they were not mixed into this matter, but when we hold Alhambra they will sink into Dreaming again. More important is my question, which you never answered. Have you approached and spoken with the Evil there? Can we move into Alhambra?"

  "It would not listen to me," Dakari wept. "I did try to speak to It, to tell It of our admiration and desire to serve It, but It made no response other than sending a . . . a black glob that I am sure would have swallowed me if I remained. Later the elder Sidhe came again and destroyed the black thing of the Evil's making. They did other things too; I have followed them many times. They have brought silver worked into mystical signs and placed it all over the elfhame. Then the mortal came with iron, also worked into signs which he placed throughout the palace. Now the Evil is diminishing. I can barely feel it."

  "It seems they are trying to destroy the Evil," Aurilia said, frowning. "That is impossible but I do not like it. It is possible that the Evil will be driven out. I do not like it. Once It is gone, the Bright Court will send Sidhe to take up residence there and we will have to fight for the place."

  "So? We have fought the Bright Court before and seized what we wanted."

  Aurilia shook her head. "That was a very long time ago when the whole world was in turmoil and the Dark Court was very strong and as numerous as morta
ls. Your followers are increased since you were taken by the mist, but not to the point that they can overwhelm by numbers, and the knights of the Bright Court are not to be dismissed lightly."

  Vidal glanced sidelong at her, not liking what he heard. It was the first mention she had made of the benefits to the Dark Court during the period in which she had ruled Caer Mordwyn. He remembered his unwise attack on the domain called the empty house to punish Pasgen and to bring him to heel. Deep inside something hot roiled and nearly burst. Vidal suppressed it with four years of practice at burying rage. The attack had cost half his subjects, and driven Pasgen openly to renounce his allegiance. Unwise, yes, but he did not like Aurilia's reminder.

  Nonetheless he said calmly, "You are the one who wanted Alhambra and I so much wish to please you that I am willing to fight for it if I must. It was a great making, as great as any of Oberon's better works. However, I agree that to take it by agreement with the Evil is better than battle with the Bright Court." He turned from Aurilia to look at Dakari. "Now is the best time, while the Evil is under attack, to offer assistance. Tell It we will remove the iron and the silver and welcome among us any of Its creatures that do not attack us."

  Dakari collapsed on the floor, weeping. "I cannot," he wailed. "How can I remove iron? To go near it racks me with pain. To touch it would kill me."

  "Fool." Vidal sighed, but he did not release a punishing bolt or his little needles of agony. "Take a witch or a werewolf with you. They can gather up the iron. You can pave the way for them by removing the silver. And do not tell me passing the iron will hurt you. So long as you do not touch it or remain long near it you will come to no harm."

  There was hardly more than a shadow on the floor near the dais now, only a wavering, flickering outline of a Sidhe. "They will not obey me," the shadow thing sobbed.

  That was true enough, Vidal realized; this Sidhe was too weak to command obedience from anything. Vidal grimaced. He would need to give Dakari an amulet that would force a werewolf or witch to obey, but Vidal hated the thought of allowing any of his Dark Sidhe, even so weak a creature as Dakari, to command the creatures that served him. Aurilia put a hand on his arm.

  "There are Wahib and Wahiba," she said, smiling broadly so that all her sharp pointed teeth showed. "They were insolent the last time I bade them bring me a child and brought so scrawny a creature that I could get almost no blood from it. And Wahib had bitten it so the blood was foul. They need a lesson."

  "So they do." Vidal smiled back at her. And it was Aurilia the witch and werewolf would blame for their degradation. "Will you make the amulet then to bind them to service with Dakari?"

  Aurilia laughed. "Yes. Yes I will." She looked down at the greyish mist leaking away from the dais. "Come back in a mortal day, and I will give you an amulet that will make one witch, the witch Wahiba and her son Wahib, the werewolf, obedient to you."

  The mist firmed and ceased moving. The shadow of a Sidhe looked up at Aurilia and the thin voice whined,. "But if the iron and silver that the Sidhe of the Bright Court set in Alhambra are removed, they will know someone has been there. They will search for me . . ."

  "Then you had better work swiftly both to remove the silver and iron sigils and to convince the Evil to receive us," Aurilia said sharply without sympathy and waved at the shadow to be gone.

  When they were alone she said to Vidal, "That is a weak reed on which to fix our hope of taking Alhambra."

  Vidal nodded indifferently. "And we may not get it, but there is still El Dorado for you, and to tell the truth I am much more concerned about Mary's safety than taking possession of either of those domains. When Mary is queen, so much power from pain and misery will flood down upon us that I will be able to make a domain for you if Alhambra and El Dorado are taken by the Bright Court."

  Aurilia's lower lip protruded in an ugly pout. "I do not want your making. You are strong, but no artist. Besides, I want Alhambra because the Bright Court desires it."

  "Then we will take it from them. I tell you, Mary must be queen. When Mary is queen we will have power to spare to drive the liosalfar out of any domain we desire. We will be fat and rich, but Mary must come to the throne, and now she is in great danger."

  The pout became less pronounced. "I agree that Mary must be queen, but if you do not think Rhoslyn is enough to protect her—"

  "To keep Mary safe from personal attack, Rhoslyn is enough," Vidal interrupted. "She always pretends to be weaker than she is. But according to Rich, Northumberland is truly desperate. I think he will decide to send a troop to take Mary prisoner, possibly to arrange that she have an 'accident,' and Rhoslyn can do nothing about that."

  "Then what will you do?"

  Vidal stared out across the room for a moment. "First I will tell Albertus to call up the men he hired to capture Elizabeth. They failed at that but there are more of them now and many dedicated to serving Mary and bringing back the old rite. They will gladly fight or distract Northumberland's men, which will give Mary time to find a haven. Second, I will leave a message for Pasgen that Rhoslyn might be destroyed in Northumberland's attempt on Mary. Rhoslyn will not go with Pasgen leaving Mary to her fate. Thus Pasgen will have to save them both."

  "How?"

  Vidal laughed aloud. "I have no idea but Pasgen may well be strong enough to build a Gate and drag the women through. Mary will know something strange happened but let her cry aloud of magic if she wishes. Either Rhoslyn will be able to wipe what happened from Mary's mind or Mary will only be able to describe Pasgen as the magic maker. And if the tale comes back to Oberon and invites His Majesty's displeasure in Pasgen . . . tant pis as they say in Melusine."

  Chapter 8

  Rhoslyn hurried away from the palace in Caer Mordwyn so worried about what Vidal had told her of Northumberland's plans that she nearly fell into one of the slimy pools that dotted the red marble road to the nearest Gate. She drew back in time, but her shoes were ruined, the glutinous, foul smelling stuff that filled the pool clinging to anything it touched. However, Rhoslyn noted with some interest that, disgusting as it was, the liquid did no real harm.

  That was new. In the past, Vidal's traps if not fatal caused agonizing pain so that he could enjoy listening to the shrieks and bellows as the trapped creature escaped or died. The realization that Vidal had seemingly stopped destroying his own subjects did not wake any hope that Vidal's essential nature had changed. It only reinforced Pasgen's warning that the Prince of Caer Mordwyn had somehow learned self-control, which made him all the more dangerous.

  The idea of Vidal as a reasoning and calculating being only made Rhoslyn hurry faster. One thing Vidal now saw clearly was where his own benefit existed, which made his warning about the threat to Mary all the more urgent.

  Achieving the Gate, Rhoslyn transferred to the Goblin Market and from there to the empty house. Her favorite in the past was the Elves' Faire, but she avoided it now because that was where she used to meet Llanelli when her mother was alive. To her surprise and relief, Pasgen was sitting in the atrium with several closely written sheets spread out in front of him.

  "Thank the Mother that you are here," she said.

  "I stop in often now to see if you need me," he said, turning to face Rhoslyn. "Hafwen reminds me, but today I wanted to talk to you in particular as you are a maker. Hafwen says the self-willed mist wants to know what a house is."

  "That seems to be a singularly pointless inquiry for something like a mist," Rhoslyn said absently, still thinking about what Vidal had told her. And then, really hearing what Pasgen had said, she asked, "How can Hafwen know what a mist wants to know?"

  "She has no idea," Pasgen admitted, "and is rather shaken by the communication. She—"

  "Never mind the mist," Rhoslyn interrupted, putting a hand to her head. "We will get to the mist when we can. I've just been with Vidal—and you are quite right, Pasgen, he is much changed. Not once did I need my shields . . . Well, Aurilia threatened me but not Vidal. And Caer Mordwyn is no longer r
otting away." She grimaced. "But it is still full of stupid traps." Then she shuddered. "That does not matter. Vidal told me that those attempts on Mary's life were not just random lunatics who hate and fear Catholicism but likely directed attempts to kill her by Northumberland."

  Pasgen thought for a moment. "I am not surprised. He is tied too close to the reformed religion and has himself pressed Mary too hard to conform to his rite. He cannot hope that his experience in ruling could recommend him to her. If she comes to the throne, she will dismiss him at once and might be likely to put him in the Tower." He glanced down at the closely written sheets he had been studying and sighed. "I suppose you want me to come help you protect Mary."

  "It will not be for long," Rhoslyn said apologetically. "Vidal says the boy cannot live beyond two mortal weeks longer, and Mary's fate will be decided within a mortal week or at the most two after that. If she is not taken prisoner and killed at once, many in England will rally to her. Once that happens she will be guarded like a queen."

  Pasgen sighed again. "Very well. I must tell Hafwen that I will be mostly in the mortal world for one of their months. Then I will come through your Gate. Draw aside the man you want me to imitate. I think it will be much easier if I simply take his place and put him in stasis. I will extract from his mind what his duties are and who are his intimates, and I will feed to his mind the happenings of each day, so I can free him to his own devices each night. That way, his body will take no harm and when the crisis is over, he can take up his life again."