"Too bad you failed," a voice full of clicks and whirrs said.
Everyone at the table looked with considerable interest at the server who had arrived. Tonight it was a shiny metal creature—Elizabeth thought the metal was steel but had no idea steel could be worked in such an intricate fashion. Whatever it was had six double-jointed legs and a long, oval body with short wings, slightly raised around a broad, flat area on its back. The head was broad at the top, with huge many-faceted eyes, and narrowed drastically to a pair of slicing jaws with serrated edges but no teeth.
"Grasshopper!" Elizabeth said triumphantly when she had made a mental adjustment for the size.
"Cricket," the server said crossly. "No fair, you are human so you have seen them. No one else knew it was not my own idea."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Elizabeth said. "I did not know the forms were supposed to be your invention. I have never recognized any of the others—even the barber pole, which you said came from the mortal world."
"Long after your time," the server said, but the voice, clicks and whirrs and all, sounded mollified. "So, what do you all want?"
When they had ordered and the creature clanked away, they all sat looking after it for a moment.
"What is it, really?" Hafwen asked.
"Only the Great Mother knows," Pasgen replied, "I have no idea." But he was grinning. "I suspect it would be a life's work to find out." Then his grin faded. "And I think I have a life's work, and a much less pleasant one, in hand already."
Rhoslyn bit her lip and Harry patted her hand, but it was Hafwen who looked at Aleneil and asked, "You are a FarSeer. Did you sense any evil in the Sidhe who stole mortals or the magic that made the Gate?"
"Evil?" Recalled to their interrupted conversation, Aleneil frowned. "The Sidhe? He was overflowing with pride and selfishness but not real evil. And it was Dark power that built the Gate, full of misery and pain, but no, not evil, just ugly and sad. Surely you do not mean that the Dark power is evil."
"No, she means evil, real evil," Pasgen said. "It seems as if Underhill has gone mad since Mary took the throne." He nodded toward Aleneil. "There is a Sidhe abducting mortals Underhill. That is mad. There is a whole world full of mortals of whom many would not be missed. And then Hafwen and I stumbled on real evil."
"It was the same as I felt in Alhambra that hurt me so much I fell unconscious," Hafwen said, flushing slightly over her weakness.
Harry, who had been looking at Rhoslyn, turned sharply toward Hafwen. "The evil you said was gone from Alhambra when you were last there?" His voice was a little too loud. "God help us! Is it loose Underhill?"
"I don't know," Pasgen said. "I know it was loose."
He went on to tell Harry of the tainted Chaos Land, the small domains that had been ravished and destroyed, and of the damage to Gnome Hold. In the midst of his tale, the server came back with the food and drink they had ordered, passing plates with its legs by some miracle of dexterity from the flat surface on its back. It did not speak, however, but hurried away, presumably to serve other patrons.
All ate while listening intently to Pasgen. Now and then when he paused to address his own meal, the others exclaimed with horror; however, none of the evil had touched the Bright domains, so much of what Pasgen said was new to them. Denoriel asked anxiously how they had lost track of the evil, after having followed it for so long.
Pasgen shrugged. "The gnomes told us there was this flash of light, which blinded them, and when they could see again, the Sidhe that spawned the black things which drained life force was gone. What was even stranger and more disturbing was that all trace of it was gone from the Gate and from the hold, nor was there any trace of what had created that flash of light."
"We have been seeking and listening for news, Pasgen and I," Hafwen put in, her face troubled, "but there has been no more damage done—at least not to any Unformed land we have visited or to any hold. Something removed that evil from Underhill." She hesitated and then asked, "Could Oberon have sensed it and caught it?"
Harry pushed his empty plate away and his lips twisted wryly. "Not without flaying the Bright Court alive for permitting such a thing to happen without telling him. He would have skinned me first, because I started the trouble by wanting to drive the evil out of Alhambra and El Dorado."
Aleneil shook her head. "I do not believe Oberon knows anything about the evil. Eirianell told me that he is not now Underhill, nor has he been for some time. He has been gone, she said, since the last Great Ball."
"Then who or what—" Harry began. He looked anxiously from Pasgen to Hafwen. "I didn't think," he began again, guiltily. "I suppose it is my fault, but we had it bound into the altar stone and surrounded by sigils of silver and iron. The elder Sidhe and I were working on a way to move the altar stone to the Void without letting it loose."
"Since Oberon was gone, you could not have gone to him anyway," Denoriel said, giving Harry a quick hug. Then, clearly to divert Harry from self-blame, he said to Aleneil, "What made you ask Eirianell about Oberon?"
"I didn't. That was only a bit of gossip she dropped. I had come to her because I could not see clearly in my scrying mirror who was seizing the mortals from Cymry. Eirianell laughed and said the only thing she has never been able to See clearly is where Oberon goes when he leaves Underhill."
"Thank the Great Mother for that!" Denoriel said, laughing. "The last thing we need is to see Oberon more clearly than we do. I am not sure I want to know where he goes." He rolled his eyes. "Just think what would happen if Titania discovered Eirianell could See him."
Aleneil laughed and shuddered at the same time, then clearly dismissing Oberon and Titania and their world-shaking clashes, she said, "More important to me, Eirianell could See through the magic the mortal-stealer used to disguise himself or that the Dark Sidhe used to disguise him. She told me the Sidhe was not from any elfhame with which we are familiar, that he was somewhat different from the Sidhe of the western realms. For one thing, he is fat."
"Fat? Eirianell said the Sidhe was fat?" Elizabeth dropped her knife and looked up at Denoriel. "Denno, the Sidhe that tried to seize me in Fur Hold was fat. Could it have been the same Sidhe?"
"I suppose," Denoriel said slowly. "But what if it was?"
"He wanted me," Elizabeth said, eyes bright as gold coins. "He wanted me enough to try to seize me again after I had Pushed him."
"Likely he wanted to murder you," Denoriel said acidly.
"Yes." Elizabeth laughed. "Particularly since his gaudy clothes were all besmattered with the urso's nuncheon." Then she sobered. "But that does not matter. What matters is that he will remember me, I think, and I can be bait for a trap for him."
"Bess!" Harry protested. "Have you not just come through enough danger?"
"No!" Denoriel's voice mingled with Harry's. "You idiot! He is likely working with or for Vidal, and Vidal does not wish you well."
Having waited patiently for her two protectors to finish with her eyes raised to heaven—or, at least, what she thought was the sky above Underhill—Elizabeth replied with ostentatious patience, "I did not plan to rush out to seek this mortal-snatching lunatic all alone or in any place where he might trap me. I assumed that you would come with me and guard me."
"And we will guard her too," Aleneil put in. "Me and Ilar and as many of those from Cymry as you desire." She turned to Denoriel eagerly. "Do not forbid her, Denoriel. Please. You have no idea how much pain this monster has caused, snatching away fathers and mothers and children, breaking families."
Elizabeth saw that Aleneil was deeply distressed and was rather surprised because Aleneil had spent so much time in the mortal world. Then she realized that Aleneil's time in the mortal world was spent with her . . . and she had no family, not anymore.
Kat was dear to her and some of her ladies, but they were not family, not as her brother had been. She felt a pang of regret for the animosity Mary bore her—or, really, bore her mother. Elizabeth pushed that thought away and the knowledge
that she was waiting for her sister to die. She thought about the Sidhe, who rarely had families either. No wonder those of Cymry were fascinated by the bonds of affection that held families together. Elizabeth sighed, thinking of Mary again and the daggers of hate that could develop in families too.
"And we never know where or at whom he will strike."
Aleneil's anxious voice broke Elizabeth's thought but before she could speak Denoriel said repressively, "Aleneil, have you forgotten that Elizabeth was snatched out of Cymry by Vidal himself. She is too important to be risked. She must come to the throne of Logres. Do you want the Bright Court diminished to nothing?"
"But if we knew this mortal-stealers's target—"
"No!"
"I don't think we should lay the trap in Cymry," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, ignoring Denoriel's explosive denial. "I am sorry to say that I suspect he must have . . . if not confederates at least informers in Cymry."
Aleneil cried out in protest, but Elizabeth shook her head at her and pointed out that Cymry was a well-run, happy elfhame but not heaven, and that disaffected persons existed everywhere.
"Mortals are well treated, but some must be dissatisfied. Perhaps they believe their lot would be better in the mortal world—poor fools. Perhaps they simply wished to be rid of an enemy. And likely there are Sidhe who are envious or spiteful. One or another might have been lured into talk and been offered the satisfaction of wants or a desired prize. And you know, having helped a criminal once, whoever did so is now in his power and can be forced to help again."
Everyone stopped eating to look at Elizabeth. Denoriel's face was grim, Harry's was sad. Aleneil looked very surprised, Pasgen mildly interested, and Rhoslyn rather relieved. This was not the wild child or the happy reveler they were accustomed to seeing. The face was still very young . . . but the eyes were old.
"My little girl is growing up," Harry said.
Elizabeth smiled at him, but she spoke to Aleneil. "It should be easy enough to spread word throughout Cymry that the red-haired mortal is visiting Underhill again." And then she turned to Denoriel, leaning against his shoulder and kissing his cheek. "My love, you know sooner or later that fat Sidhe would hear I was Underhill and would begin to hunt me."
"Then I will not bring you Underhill!"
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head at him. "You must let me come Underhill. That stupid gaoler Mary assigned to me will otherwise drive me mad. Can you imagine having no one but Bedingfield to talk to for however long Mary decides to keep me imprisoned in Woodstock?"
Denoriel groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Elizabeth kissed the tip of his ear which peeped above his fingers.
"I will be careful, beloved. I will wear my shields whenever we are out of your own rooms and I am sure Da will bring Mechain and Elidir to me or me to them. When we tell them what danger is involved, I would not be at all surprised if they knew some spells that would permit you to trace me . . ." Her voice faded.
"No!"
The roar came from both Harry and Denoriel. Aleneil and Rhoslyn jumped. Pasgen raised his eyebrows.
"No, what?" Pasgen asked, very surprised.
"She intends to let herself be abducted," Denoriel roared.
Everyone looked at her again.
"But it would be the easiest way to find out where he takes the mortals," Elizabeth said in a coaxing tone. "I will have my shields up at their strongest. You know they even stood up to Oberon's command . . . Well, it was not aimed at me, of course. I doubt the shields could have resisted a direct attack from Oberon, but I am sure this fat Sidhe cannot be so powerful. Remember, whatever he intended to launch at me—"
"Elizabeth, no!"
This time it was three voices. Aleneil had added her protest to that of Denoriel and Harry.
"No. No." Aleneil pleaded. "If anything should happen to you, I swear by the Mother I would die of guilt and grief. Please, Elizabeth, do not endanger yourself to that degree."
Elizabeth sighed. "I do not see that I would be that much in danger if I go with that fat fool—"
"I think that would be unwise," Pasgen said. His voice and expression were neutral. He was by no means devoted to Elizabeth as were the others, but he did not like the heavy flow of power that was going to the Dark Court and sometimes tainting the Unformed lands; he wanted Elizabeth to come to the throne. "There are places Underhill that are really secret and spell-warded so that perhaps your call spell would not reach anyone outside."
After a brief contemplation of Pasgen, Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "Very well. I suppose if we capture him you will be able to convince him to show you where he has taken his captives."
"Yes!"
Again it was three voices with varying degrees of anger and determination. Pasgen laughed and Rhoslyn said, "And if sweet persuasion does not work, I will just go into his mind and rip the answer out."
The server came to collect the mostly empty plates. Several of the party ordered sweets and dessert wine. The argument about trapping the mortal-stealer continued but mostly it was now concerned with practical matters such as bringing the news of Elizabeth's return Underhill to their prey in a way that would not make him suspicious and where to arrange the confrontation. One of the great markets seemed the best place as almost any number of guardians could be concealed in the crowds.
When the topic ran out, the party began to disperse. Aleneil said she was off to Cymry to start the rumor that Elizabeth was Underhill again and plan with Idres Gawr and Ilar how to protect her. Rhoslyn sighed and said she had better return to Whitehall since Mary rose early and she was on duty. Pasgen and Hafwen went off together. As they rose from their seats, Denoriel asked Elizabeth if she would like to have him look for a ball to attend.
"Not this time, love," she said, raising her face for a kiss. "I don't want you to need to twist time too much. And I think I would like to go back to Woodstock to be sure that all is well."
She yawned and cuddled to Denoriel's side as they passed out of the market gate and found Miralys within two steps. Nor did Elizabeth linger when they reached Llachar Lle, although Denoriel would have drawn her into his bedchamber. She laughed and shook her head at him and went into her own room to shed her Underhill finery and slip on her night rail. Then she stood for a moment contemplating the joy of being able to say to Denoriel, "And you will come for me this mortal night, will you not?"
Blanche was asleep in her own bed when Elizabeth and Denoriel Gated to Woodstock, so Elizabeth knew that no trouble had arisen. She kissed Denoriel silently and watched with a smile as the Gate closed behind him. Then she hurried to her bed, snuggled under the covers and lifted the sleep spell from her ladies. They went right on sleeping, and Elizabeth smiled as she closed her own eyes.
Most of the day was spent in unpacking and putting away the clothing Elizabeth had brought with her. She did not have much jewelry. Most of what she had was locked carefully away in Hatfield and Ashridge, but in the bottom of the one strongbox she had carried with her throughout her imprisonment was a mirror in a magnificent silver frame.
Elizabeth had not touched that mirror, except to move it from one strongbox to another so it would always be with her, since she had traded the winged kitten for it so many years ago. It was not a mirror she cared to look into for her face had grown harder and more strained, her eyes older, when she caught a glimpse as she moved the mirror. Now she took it out and laid it on the dressing table beside her. She let it lie face up, but turned slightly on her stool so she did not need to look into it.
Blanche came to bring her a handkerchief and glanced down. "Why there's that old mirror, Your Grace," she said. "Does it still have that funny twist in it?"
"Yes," Elizabeth answered, mouthing "thank you" at Blanche, who had provided an explanation for what her maids of honor would see. "I'd forgotten I had it, but there it was on the bottom of the box. She looked beyond Blanche and smiled at Elizabeth Marberry. "Do come and look, Elizabeth." And she held the mirror so that she coul
d see her maid of honor's face.
What the mirror showed was not so terrible, only greed and worry and dissatisfaction.
Elizabeth Marberry snorted. "It certainly is not a very good mirror. Something . . . Mary, come here and look."
She gestured to Mary Dacre, who obligingly came over and peered into the mirror, which Elizabeth still held so she could see the reflection. Dacre's was even less threatening. It was simply dull and bored. Whatever expectations she had when she was ordered into Elizabeth's service had not been fulfilled, Elizabeth guessed.
Marberry frowned slightly. "It doesn't seem to have any imperfection. I mean my face is clear, not too long or too wide, but somehow, it doesn't look like me . . . exactly. It does and it doesn't." She turned her head toward the door to the parlor and called, "Susanna, come here."
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