Mark Chadbourn: The Devil

‘I have kept Her Majesty aware of your many successes,’ the spymaster said, attempting to flatter though his expression was sullen, ‘and she found your recent exploits in the New World of particular interest. You tweaked the beard of the devil himself, Master Swyfte, and returned from Hell to tell the tale. Any man who can achieve such a thing must surely be needed in the Queen’s service.’ He paused, moistening his lips. Will thought he saw a flicker of unease in his eyes. ‘Particularly in the turbulent times that lie ahead.’

‘Why, perhaps my master is England’s greatest spy after all,’ Nathaniel said, his nose in the air.

Cecil looked daggers at him, but Will cut in. ‘What are these turbulent times you speak of?’

‘While we dwelt on our all-consuming struggle with the Unseelie Court, other shadows were moving beyond our attention.’ A strong wind blew, whipping the dry leaves into gold and brown waves. Cecil shivered. ‘In Venice, across the course of this last month, six of our agents have been found floating in the canals at dawn, eviscerated, as if set upon by a wild beast. There is talk of an English spy turned traitor, a young man with fiery red hair who has spoken widely of his hatred for one Will Swyfte.’

Strangewayes? Could it be that he had somehow escaped Manoa before the way closed, and now, scarred by his failure, was seeking revenge for all that he had lost?

‘In Muscovy,’ Cecil continued, oblivious of Will’s ruminations, ‘the court of the mad Tsar is gripped with fear at tales that the dead have risen from the frozen earth, Mongols from the horde that swept across their land in times gone by. And in the far Orient, in China, comes word of something darker still, a plague of devils. .’ The words caught in his throat as he eyed Nathaniel. ‘But that is a discussion for another time.’ He watched Will’s eyes for a long moment and then smiled tightly at what he saw there. ‘Very well. Assemble your men, Swyfte, and await further orders.’

When the spymaster had departed, Nathaniel sighed. ‘I suppose this means I must unpack your boxes of doublets, cloaks and shoes, which only this hour I had finished packing.’

‘No rest for you, Nat, and none, it seems, for the swords of Albion,’ Will replied with a grin. As he watched the young man walk away, his thoughts abandoned Whitehall and London and journeyed across the world. Venice, Muscovy, China, one true road ran through all of them. From every fiend he encountered, he would prise the knowledge he required until he had found the key he needed to unlock that way between worlds.

‘And then, Jenny,’ he whispered to the wind, ‘I will come to fetch you home, and no man nor devil will stand in my way.’

For a moment, he waited there alone in the golden autumn light, remembering. And then he turned back towards the throng. There would be blood, he knew, and strife, and there would be an ending. But not this day.