by Mike Shevdon
“And if they’re not there?” asked Katherine, handing the horseshoe back to Claire with a sidelong look at her daughter’s sour expression.
“Then the symbol is absent, and the ritual is incomplete.”
“One of them arranged for the delivery of the knives and the nails before the ceremony,” said Claire. “And arranged for them to be taken away afterwards. That’s all I know.”
“How do you know if it’s one of them?” asked Blackbird. “What if they were substituted?”
“There are certain forms that must be followed — oaths to be sworn while each of us is holding one of the horseshoes” Claire explained. “No one fey could swear that oath under those circumstance, and no one else knows the oath that’s sworn. Someone fey could extract the oath from us, but they’d never be able to swear it holding the horseshoe.”
“That still doesn’t help us find them,” said Blackbird, “but it does mean that the nails and the knives are probably safe for now. The horseshoes are a different matter. You have one, and there’s another in your flat.”
“The rest were in the safe, wherever that is,” said Claire. “We still have no way of contacting the keepers of the nails or the knives, though. We need to warn them or we may yet lose them all, assuming they still exist.”
“We’ll think about that tomorrow,” said Blackbird. “In the meantime I will ask Niall to arrange the recovery of the horseshoe from your flat, and we need to find you somewhere to stay.”
“She can stay here,” volunteered Katherine.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” said Claire “It’s too dangerous.”
“No one knows you’re here,” said Katherine. “So no one’s going to bother us, are they?”
Blackbird was on the point of trying to explain why that didn’t necessarily help and then thought better of it. Katherine was right. There was no reason for Claire not to be at Katherine’s. The only link between them was Niall, and that was a hard connection to follow.
“She could have my room,” said Alex. “I can go back with Blackbird for tonight and come back tomorrow,” she said brightly.
Blackbird thought that had more to do with avoiding Katherine’s questions than the spirit of generosity, but if it got the job done… “Very well,” said Blackbird, “but I want a private word with Claire first, and then I will want to walk around the house and garden. Katherine, when will Barry be back?”
“He’s away at the office Christmas party and sales conference,” she said. “That was one reason I wanted Alex to stay over. It meant we could spend some time with just us. He won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.”
That gave them tomorrow to work something out for Claire. It would be a bad idea for her to stay with Katherine for longer than a night or so, in any case.
Before they left, Blackbird spoke quietly with Claire and made her promise to keep the horseshoe close to her to prevent anyone from gaining knowledge of her whereabouts, especially while she was with Katherine. Then she walked the bounds of the property and set a simple warding to turn away curious eyes — it wasn’t much but it would do for one night. They would have to come up with something better tomorrow.
When they went to leave, Katherine wanted to call a taxi for them, but Blackbird explained that the fewer people who saw them go the better. In the back of her mind was the thought that she would have to explain to Niall why exposing Katherine to this risk was necessary, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
Blackbird and Alex slipped away from the house cloaked in glamour. Despite Alex’s complaints that she was shivering and hadn’t brought a coat, Blackbird made her wait across the street with her until the curtains were drawn and the house was in darkness. When she was sure there was nothing waiting in the shadows, she took Alex and headed back to the courts.
FIVE
Fionh was in the room where the Way-nodes converged when they returned. “You’re late back,” she commented dryly.
“Long day,” said Blackbird as Fionh removed the stones that opened the Ways into the High Court and closed them off for the night, setting them in their places.
“I thought Alex was staying with her mother?” said Fionh.
“Change of plan,” said Alex. “Mum’s got an unexpected visitor and there’s only the one spare bedroom, so I’m going back tomorrow.”
“The house is quiet,” said Fionh. “Dogstar said to let you know he’s collected the baby from Lesley. I think he’s gone to bed.”
“Thank you Fionh,” said Blackbird. “I won’t be long from bed myself.”
Blackbird and Alex made their way up through the house, finding the lights dimmed; all was quiet. “It’s a nice house when it’s quiet,” said Alex, as they topped the stairs. “I’d better come and explain to Dad why I’m not staying at Mum’s.”
“I can tell him,” said Blackbird.
Alex smiled. “Probably better if we both tell him, don’t you think?”
Blackbird acknowledged her words with a nod and led the way to their rooms. In truth she was grateful for Alex’s support. She didn’t need a row with Niall about leaving Claire with Katherine and having Alex there to explain would add credence to the tale. There were moments when Alex seemed suddenly more grown up, and this was one of them.
They entered the room quietly, finding the lights turned low and Niall fully dressed on the bed atop the covers with their son sprawled across his chest, both of them fast asleep.
“Awww,” said Alex. “Isn’t he cute when he’s asleep?”
Blackbird assumed she meant the baby, and moved quietly around so that she could lift him into her arms. He grumbled a little but was too asleep to complain. She rested him against her shoulder. “We’ll talk to your Dad tomorrow,” she said to Alex. “You go and get some rest.”
She took the baby through to the next room and laid him in the cot. He grumbled again when she laid him on the cool mattress, but Blackbird covered him with a warm quilt and after a moment he sighed in his sleep. She smiled and watched him for a moment. Then she went back into the bedroom. “Still here?” she asked Alex.
Alex looked up from the side of the bed where she was sat beside her father. “There’s something wrong,” she said. “I went to kiss him goodnight and he’s cold.”
“He’s probably just been lying outside the quilt too long,” she said. “He’s been on the go all day, Alex. He must be exhausted.”
“No,” said Alex. “He won’t wake up.” There was a tone in Alex’s voice that got Blackbird’s attention.
Blackbird frowned at Alex. On the one hand, waking up her father when he’d finally managed to get some sleep was a bit mean, but he’d have to wake up to get undressed and into bed anyway. She moved in beside him and shook his shoulder. “Niall, you’ve fallen asleep in your clothes. Wake up.” He didn’t stir. “Niall!” She shook him more forcefully.
“Why won’t he wake up?” asked Alex, a sense of panic rising in her voice.
“Move out of the way,” said Blackbird. Alex moved off the bed and she sat beside him and drew back his eyelids. His eyes were dilated almost to black. “That’s not good.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Alex, her voice rising towards panic.
“This shouldn’t happen here,” said Blackbird. “The wardings on the house should prevent it.”
“He’s not…”
“Alex!” That got her attention. “I need you calm and focused. Bring me the bag from the chair.” Alex brought the bag and Blackbird rummaged inside it, extracting a long yellow shard of bone.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked Alex.
“Give me your hand.”
“No,” said Alex, putting her hands behind her back.
“Alex, you want to help your father don’t you?”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I need a drop of your blood,” said Blackbird. “I need to call you father back. He’s got himself lost again and I need you to help me.�
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“What’s so special about my blood? Use some of your own.”
“Blood calls to blood, Alex. It always has and it always will. You are his daughter and of his line. Without it I can’t call him back.”
“There must be another way,” said Alex.
Blackbird sighed. “Very well. Bring me the baby.”
“What!”
“I said, bring me my son. He is also of Niall’s blood. One of you has to help him and if you won’t do it, then he’ll have to.”
Alex stared at the yellow shard in Blackbird’s hand. “You can’t… you wouldn’t.”
Blackbird’s eyes narrowed. “There are few things indeed, Alex Dobson, that I would not do. I am anchoring your father here. Do you want me to release him and fetch the baby myself?”
Alex hesitated. “Will it hurt?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Blackbird. “You were expecting me to lie to you?”
Alex slowly offered her hand. Blackbird reached for it and Alex almost snatched it away. Blackbird watched her. “Yes or no,” she said. “Willing is better, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’re mean,” said Alex, finally giving her hand.
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Blackbird, releasing her hold on Niall and grasping Alex’s hand around the fleshy part of her thumb.
“Hey, you’ve let go of Dad.” Alex protested. “Ah! Fuck, that hurts!”
Blackbird gouged the sharp bone fragment into Alex’s thumb. “Don’t flinch, girl, or I’ll make a mess of it.” Blood welled up in the jagged gash in Alex’s thumb. Blackbird released her and Alex immediately stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked, looking resentful.
Blackbird took Niall’s limp hand and did the same, gouging a deep hole in Niall’s thumb that welled red. “Now mix your blood with his,” said Blackbird. “We need to reinforce the connection.”
“That’s gross,” said Alex.
Blackbird unceremoniously seized Alex’s wrist and tugged her towards the bed. “Do it,” she said.
The expression on Alex’s face as she pressed her bleeding thumb to her father’s was close to revulsion. Pressing their thumbs together opened the cuts and as she withdrew it left a trail of red spots on the white quilt. Alex’s eyes widened and she went pale.
“Bathroom!” said Blackbird, “Quick!”
Alex ran for the bathroom and there was the sound of retching as she threw up noisily in the sink. After a moment there was the sound of running water. She emerged, holding a wet facecloth tight around her wounded thumb.
“Better?” asked Blackbird.
Alex nodded slowly. “You’d think after all I’d seen, a little blood wouldn’t bother me.”
“Come and sit the other side of him,” said Blackbird. “I’d ask you to hold his hand, but I don’t want you throwing up on the bed.”
“I’m OK now.” She sat on the other side of the bed and held her father’s other hand, but her eyes avoided the spots on the quilt.
“Ready,” said Blackbird. “Once we begin, we’re committed. You can’t let go, no matter what.”
Alex nodded.
Blackbird used the tip of her finger to wipe a fat drop of blood from Niall’s thumb. Alex’s eyes went so wide that Blackbird could see a ring of white around them. Blackbird lifted the drop carefully and then licked it slowly from her finger. Alex paled — now was not the time to throw up.
A stillness settled in the room. Alex licked her lips unconsciously. The air felt heavy and dense as if it were about to thunder. Blackbird’s words sounded slow and thick, even to her own ears.
By his blood I bind him,
By his seed I summon him,
By his flesh I find him,
Niall Petersen, it is time to come home.
The temperature in the room dropped and the atmosphere shifted. There was a sense of opening, as if someone had thrown all the windows wide and let the air in. Niall’s eyes opened, but he did not see them.
“Niall?” said Blackbird. “Where are you?”
The passage was dark and smelled of damp stone overlaid with wood smoke. Dim light outlined where it ended as I shuffled forwards, stooping to ease under the low arch to where the flares in wall-sconces illuminated a room. The table in the centre had a man standing before it. Six arches formed the dome of the ceiling and five other passages led away into the gloom. At the peak, lantern windows let the smoke from the flares out into the night.
The man stepped back from the table. He wore a heavy cloak against the damp, and his clothes were woollen, though not of a style I recognised. His breeches stopped short at his calves over heavy socks and he wore leather boots which had been in mud up to the laces. His hair was pulled back in a silver clasp. In front of him arranged in a circle on the table were six massive horseshoes. Even from the passage I could feel the presence of the heavy iron. It made my bones ache to be near them.
He glanced at each of the passages nervously. Even though I stood in plain sight at the head of the passage, he did not see me. I looked at my hands. I looked real enough. Was I invisible?
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching drew his attention. He eased back his cloak, revealing a sword pommel, burnished by constant handling.
“Le Brun?” the newcomer called out. “It’s me.”
Le Brun let his cloak fall forward again, while the newcomer entered the room.
“Montgomerie,” said le Brun, “Are the others on their way?” His question was answered by another arrival. “Here’s Giffard,” said Le Brun. “We’re just waiting for Mowbray, FitzRou and De Ferrers.”
The other men arrived as one.
“It’s a foul night,” said FitzRou.
“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” asked Le Brun.
“You’d be hard pressed to follow a doxy in a dress in that weather,” said the man.
“Watch your language, De Ferrers,” said Le Brun, darkly. “We’ll swear before anything else. Are you set?”
They nodded, moving to stand in a circle around the table. De Ferrers and FitzRou removed their gloves. As one they each picked up a horseshoe from the table, holding it in their bare fists before them where the others could see it. One by one they swore.
“I am Walter Le Brun, Knight and Templar. I serve God and the King.”
Each stood with the heavy iron in their hands and swore likewise to his name, his God and his King. Only when they were all sworn did they replace the horseshoes on the table.
“Well and good,” said Le Brun. “What news?”
“The ceremony is set,” said Montgomerie, “The venue has been moved again. They’re nervous — after last year…” He let that sentence trail away.
“What about the knives?” said Le Brun.
“De Ferrers and I will ride them in at the last minute,” said FitzRou. “They are well hidden until then.”
“What have we here?”
The voice came from one of the passages. As one, the men turned, drawing back their cloaks and reaching for their swords, but within seconds the passages were thundering with boots, and men with short spears held the knights at bay, gleaming points held ready to run them through. Every exit filled with men. I was forced into the room or else be trodden under by them. I stood unnoticed at the side, while the knights stood with their backs to the table.
A tall man in an expensive embroidered cloak entered behind his men. He stood opposite me, surveying the scene. “What treachery is this?” he asked.
“There is no treachery here, Aimery” said Le Brun. “We serve the King’s peace.”
“And what manner of the King’s peace requires you to meet in secret and count horseshoes? Six shoes and six men; it is a pretty number.”
“Stand by!” came a new voice. “Stand in the name of the King. Make way for King John.” A new man entered the room, pushing aside the soldiers and forcing them into the room. His face was narrow with a deep scar that ran down his cheek into his beard on the left side. He moved wi
th natural authority. He was followed by two other uniformed knights that pushed the soldiers out of the way with little regard, sowing confusion among the men who looked to Aimery for support. The two uniformed knights cleared a space, forcing the men back down the passages. A large, thickset man with a short beard who wore a cloak, black as sable, followed behind them. On his breast were embroidered three gold lions, one above the other. The knights knelt as one, causing a ripple of unrest in the remaining pikemen.
“Order your men to stand down,” said the King in a deep voice.
“But, my Liege,” said Aimery, “they are…”
“At once,” said the King, quietly.
Aimery looked crestfallen. “Stand down,” he ordered. The tips of the spears fell. “My Liege, if I have done wrong I beg your pardon. It was done with the best of…”
“Enough,” said the King. “Clear the room. Get these men out of here and let in some air, for the love of God.”
The two uniformed knights pushed the men back and they reversed with some difficulty back down the passage. It was some time before the noise died away. The King remained silent throughout. No one else dared speak.
When the men had finally gone, the King turned to Aimery. “How did you come here, this night?”
“My Liege, I heard through my own means that these men conspired. I sought only to protect…”
“No, you fool!” said the King. “Did you come by river or road?”
Aimery was taken aback. “I came by river, My Liege.”
“Good,” said the King, “then you’ve done something right. Wait outside with my men. I will speak with you later.” The uniformed knights escorted Aimery down the passage after his men. The King waited until Aimery was well out of earshot before speaking again. He turned to the scarred man that had come into the room before him.
