by Mike Shevdon
The Comptroller went on to extol the virtues of the two men being put forward. One was an accountant for a big consultancy and the other was a tax auditor, but they each stood and listened in silence to their lives being described in bold terms. They certainly looked the part, even if the most dangerous thing they would be called upon to do was to decide whether to accept another glass of port or move on to the brandy.
She wondered idly whether the investiture also had some secret meaning, whether the City had its own reasons for conducting rituals lasting hundreds of years. She thought it much more likely that the office of sheriff had more to do with networking and connections in the world of high finance. She smiled as she realised people probably looked at her and thought she had a boring staid existence.
If only they knew.
The Comptroller completed his speech and recommended the two candidates for approval by the crown, which the Remembrancer granted. He looked gravely at them for a moment and then told them in a serious tone, that although there was an annual salary of three hundred pounds for each of them, due at the quarter-sessions of Epiphany, Easter, Midsummer and Michaelmas, they would receive not a single penny of it.
There was a ripple of laughter though the assembled audience of family members and colleagues, all turned out in their finery. They all knew these city gentlemen regarded three hundred pounds as small change and that they would probably spend more than that on champagne after the ceremony.
Rolled charters inscribed on vellum, one for each of them, were sealed with wax using the great silver seal of the exchequer, binding the ribbon interleaved into the document and making it official. It was a great honour to be made a sheriff and she wished them well of it.
Then was the moment she had been waiting for.
"End it now," said Krane, "before he causes any more trouble. Garvin?" I saw the flash as the blade came up.
"Wait," said Kimlesh. "He has earned our gratitude. He and Blackbird restored the barrier when without it all would have been lost. Surely that is enough to save his life?"
"You'd let him walk away, knowing what he knows?" said Krane.
"A boon then," said Kimlesh. "His life is forfeit but we will grant him a boon for his service to the courts. We have much at our disposal. What would you ask of us?" he said to me.
"Are you offering me compensation so you can kill me without feeling guilty?"
"I regret this, truly, but I can see no other way. Come, what would you have from us?"
"I would have three things, then."
"Three? Oh very well. Name them."
"The first is for Blackbird. She needs somewhere safe and secure to live while she is pregnant. Somewhere with trees."
"It is done," said Kimlesh. "What else?"
"For my daughter, Alex. If she comes into her power then I want her to have a place in the courts, whatever her nature turns out to be."
"If she is wraithkin, then it is not within our power to grant," said the Ogre woman, Barthia.
"Aside from that, then. Will you take her?"
"We will," agreed Barthia.
"That leaves the third," said Kimlesh. "Three is the trick of it. What will you have?"
"And now we come to the rendering of quit rents in respect of two petty sergeantries held directly of the crown, one for the Forge in Tweezers Lane, just south of St Clement Danes, and the other for the wasteland known as the Moors, in the county of Shropshire, formerly the county of Salop. The quit rent for the former is six horse shoes and sixty-one nails."
"I have them here, my lord," said the Comptroller, indicating the items laid out on the black and white chequered cloth of the Exchequer.
"Will you count them out?"
With exaggerated care, the Comptroller lifted each horseshoe in turn, the huge size of them making his hands look small. He showed each of them to the assembled court.
"There are six, my lord, and the nails are here. Ten, twenty… " He laid bundles of nails, each tied in a bundle with blue ribbon, on the squares of black and white draped over the bench. "Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty and…" He patted his pockets absently, then more urgently.
There was a tense moment, but then he smiled and produced the final nail, the one Ben had pried from Niall's lacerated fingers and returned to Claire along with the knives.
"Sixty-one nails, my lord."
"Good number!" called the Queen's Remembrancer in response and cracked his gavel down hard on the bench.
"And the knives? Do they meet the test?"
This was her part and her stomach clenched as she went to retrieve the Dead Knife from its place. She picked it out of the box carefully, reminded of what had happened when Niall had held it. Reassuringly it kept the same dull sheen she had always known. She walked forward and placed the knife, edge up, against the bench.
The Comptroller walked forward, a length of green hazel twig, one year's growth in length, in his hand. They exchanged a nervous smile. There had been the time when a bumptious upstart from the City had usurped the Comptroller's place and decided to test the knives himself. Neither knife had broken the rod, despite strenuous effort on his part. The Remembrancer of the time had been forced to fine the Highsmiths for non-payment, and they had not been happy.
He held the rod on either side of the knife and pressed down. The rod bent over the edge but it did not break. The Dead Knife had done its job.
She turned back to where the box for the knives was placed and replaced the Dead Knife, retrieving the newly forged Quick Knife in its place. The broad leaf of the blade was dark metal, but the edge shone bright where Ben had sharpened it. She stepped forward again, holding the knife up momentarily for effect, and then placed it edge up on the bench.
Now came the moment of truth. This was the test. If the knife was remade then it would cut through the hazel rod and the barrier would be sealed. If not…
She looked around at the ranked faces in the benches craning to see. None of them realised how much would change if the knife failed the test.
The Comptroller stepped forward again with the rod. As he held the rod out, she realised his hand was shaking, very slightly. He couldn't possibly know the significance of this, could he? She looked up into his face and saw uncertainty there, and then he grinned.
He pressed the rod down on the knife dramatically and stumbled forward slightly as the knife cleaved through the rod as if it wasn't there. He'd pressed much harder than he needed to and his chin came unexpectedly close to the burnished edge. Claire whipped the knife away, concerned he would be cut. Her concern was not so much for the Comptroller but for the knife. Lord only knew what would happen if they got blood on it.
Regaining his composure, the Comptroller turned and held the two pieces of the rod high for all to see.
"The knives have passed the test, my Lord."
"Good service!" intoned the Remembrancer, banging his gavel down again. "That concludes the rendering of the quit rents." He smiled broadly at the assembly.
Claire carefully turned and replaced the knife next to its twin in the wooden case. She closed the lid and fixed the catch and then let out a long sigh. There had been no clap of thunder, no peal of bells, but she'd felt the knife in her hand after it had split the hazel rod. The tingle of power that shivered through it was all the confirmation she needed.
It was done.
"The third thing." I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then I told them. "I would have you know that if you take my life, here and now, then by the end of the week there will be notices posted all over Covent Garden, Leicester Square and random parts of central London describing the nature and reason for my death. They will detail the nature of the ceremony, the schism with the Seventh Court, the purpose of the two knives, the horseshoes and the sixty-first nail, and the fact that you have had me killed to prevent the knowledge from being discovered."
There was silence.
"I beg your pardon?" said Kimlesh.
"I think you heard me well
enough."
"How?" said Barthia. "How can you achieve this? You'll be dead."
"The Queen's Remembrancer, who is also a High Court Judge, issued a court order this morning. Notices have been lodged with a number of London solicitors and are held in trust pending my disappearance. I don't know all the details, for no single person does, but if I do not present myself before the Queen's Remembrancer before the week is out then they have instructions to assume I am dead and enact the court order. The notices will be posted by agents throughout the city. Special arrangements have been made to make sure Marshdock gets one of the first notices printed. By the end of the week, everyone, Fey and human, will know what you did."
"This is an outrage!" shouted Krane.
"So is killing me to keep a secret."
A sound built slowly. It rumbled and bubbled up around us until it was near deafening. I realised, finally, that the ogre was laughing. By the time she had subsided and we could hear ourselves think, the realisation of what I had done had come home to them all.
"This is impossible duress," said Krane. "If we let him go then he could tell them anyway."
"If we don't let him go then they will certainly find out," said Kimlesh. "He's sending it to Marshdock of all people. You know what that means."
"I say kill him now and clean up the mess as we find it," said Krane.
"You're letting your heart rule your head, Krane," said Teoth. "This has been carefully constructed. I am impressed." He nodded to me and folded his arms, regarding me with new interest.
"I still say we cannot allow him to leave without an oath to seal his lips."
"Then I will give you one," I said. "Which of you will accept it?"
They looked at each other. "We cannot," said Kimlesh. "You don't understand."
"Then you'll just have to take my word for it," I told them.
"We cannot do that either," said Yonna. "It is too sensitive. It would leave you unprotected if someone were to try and pry it from you. There are those who would do so if they knew, and fragments of this may yet slip back from other sources."
"It would suit the wraithkin lord's purposes to see us squirm," Barthia agreed.
"You don't know what you've done," said Yonna.
"I think I've saved my own skin," I told her.
"Only for the moment. There are others who will not give you the clean death that we would have."
"I'll deal with that when it happens," I told her.
The long-limbed figure of Mellion uncurled itself from the seat and stood, proving himself a head taller than either me or Garvin. He spread his hands flat and moved them slowly apart. The others stopped talking. He pointed to the vacant seat, then held his hands over his eyes. Then he dropped his hands and walked around to Garvin and held his hand out. Garvin looked confused until Mellion gently prised the scabbard from Garvin's hand and offered it to me.
"What does he want me to do with it?" I asked Garvin.
"I think he's offering you a solution," said Garvin.
"He wants me to kill myself?" I asked.
"No," said Kimlesh. "Hordemaster Mellion has once again proved his tactical ability. My compliments, sir."
Mellion bowed and returned to his seat, leaving me holding Garvin's scabbard and wondering whether I could use it as a weapon in some way. One look at Garvin, however, changed my mind. He held his long blade with easy readiness.
I looked around the circle of faces, the blank looks among them reflecting my own confusion.
"Why am I holding this?" I asked Kimlesh.
"Mellion is suggesting you join the warders."
"Me? I don't know one end of a pointed stick from the other."
"I agree," said Krane. "A wraithkin warder? His loyalty would be questionable at best."
"But there have always been wraithkin warders, haven't there, Garvin. Tell them," said Kimlesh.
"This is true," Garvin said. "While there hasn't been a wraithkin warder since the separation of the Seventh Court, that's only because there have been no candidates. As you know, there were originally seven warders, one from each court. And their loyalty is to no single court. We carry out the will of the council." He made this point looking directly at Krane.
"I'm sorry, Garvin," he said. "I did not mean to imply–"
"I understand your concern, Lord Krane, but the warders swear their oath to the council, revoking any previous oath to their own court. They are bound to the council as anyone else is bound to their court."
"Are you… are you offering me a job?" I asked them.
"It is a way out of the dilemma, certainly," said Kimlesh. "We need your silence and you wish to survive. The two are not incompatible if you are a warder."
Garvin addressed himself to the council. "I would respectfully remind the council that you are going to be putting your lives in this man's hands. Is that what you want?"
"Can you train him?" asked Teoth.
Garvin looked me up and down, assessing me like a piece of meat. "I can make him competent. Whether he has any true ability remains to be seen."
"He's already proven himself far more resourceful than any of us would have credited," said Teoth.
"And it is better to have him bound close to us than running around loose, don't you think?" Kimlesh looked around the circle.
"Warders can get killed," said Krane. "If he dies in service then we still risk exposure."
"I can ask the Remembrancer to rescind the order," I told them. "If you will all swear not to harm me or mine then it can be withdrawn. It will take a few weeks to unravel, but it can be done."
"You misunderstand," said Kimlesh. "We would not harm you. You will be our protector, our bodyguard and our servant. A warder has never, ever been harmed by the council."
"Nevertheless," I looked at Krane, "that's my condition."
He sat back in his seat, while everyone looked at him. "Very well," he said. "Swear him in. The sooner this is done with, the better."
"Do you each swear that you will do me no harm, either directly or indirectly?"
"I swear that we will treat you like any other warder, with no preference or privilege, nor any wish for harm," said Kimlesh.
"So say I," said Yonna.
"And I," said Teoth.
Mellion pressed his hand over his heart and nodded solemnly.
Barthia agreed, "The same for me."
Krane looked around the faces, then nodded. "I'm going to regret this, I just know it," he sighed. "I too will treat you as any other warder with no preference or privilege, nor any wish for harm. Is that enough?"
I nodded.
"Give Garvin his scabbard back and then take off your jacket and kneel," said Kimlesh. "Garvin?"
Garvin took back his scabbard and moved to the side of me while I dropped the jacket in a bundle on the floor and knelt in the centre of the star.
"Put out your right hand and bare your wrist," she instructed.
I hesitated just a moment, then pulled back the shirt from my wrist, exposing the skin. I held out my wrist and Garvin's blade flashed down. I flinched, but the blade stopped, just above the veins of my wrist. He withdrew the sword.
"A test?" I asked. Then I noticed the blood welling out of the cut across my wrist. I hadn't even felt it touch me.
"Taste it," said Kimlesh. I sucked the blood, feeling the coppery tang of it in my mouth.
"By your blood, will you serve the will of the council until released of your service," she asked.
"I will." The coppery taste got stronger.
"By your heart, will you hold the life of any member of the council above your own?"
I looked at Krane. "I will." I could feel the blood on my tongue.
"By your mind, will you seek to preserve and protect your fellow warders even at risk of your own life?"
"I will." Its taste thickened.
"By your power, will you keep the secrets of the council, even to your own death?"
"I will."
"Stand, Wa
rder Alshirian, called Dogstar, also called Niall Petersen, and bow to the council."
I got unsteadily to my feet. Garvin watching me, then turned to the council and bowed slowly.
"Garvin will take you to Blackbird. I imagine you will want to tell her your news."
Garvin wiped down the blade with a plain white cloth. Then he nodded to Kimlesh.
"Go then. We will see you again, Warder Alshirian."
I turned, but Garvin caught my eye. He turned and whirled the blade around in his hand, sheathing the blade with a soft hiss in one smooth movement, then he placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slowly to the council. I mimicked his bow.
He turned and escorted me to the door.
"Send in Fionh, please, Garvin."
He held the door while I stepped through and he stepped through after me. Tate and Fionh were waiting outside. Fionh's eyebrow went up when she saw me.
"You're to go in directly, Fee. Tate, you're with me."
"What happened in there?" asked Fionh.
"I'll tell you later." He looked me over. "We're going to have our work cut out. See if you can find out how long they're going to be. Mullbrook will want to know if they are dining."
Fionh slipped back into the room, pulling the door quietly closed behind her.
Garvin walked away down the corridor with Tate stepping in behind. I stood there for a moment, bemused, unsure of what I should do.
Garvin paused and slowly turned back to me. "First lesson," he said. "I can lead, but you have to follow."
They strode away. I gathered my wits together and trotted after them.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" asked Tate as we neared the room where we had originally been taken.
"You and the rest of the team," said Garvin. "But first we need to return Warder Dogstar here to his love."
We entered the room. Blackbird was standing by the fireplace. She took one look at me, then ran and threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her warm lips to mine.
"Warder Dogstar?" said Tate from behind us.
"Come on. We need to get the others together." He waited until Blackbird released me and then pointed at me and then at the floor. "Stay here. Do not leave this room until I come and get you. Consider it an order."
