Mike Shevdon - The Road to Bedlam

"All OK?" I asked him.

He made the signs for sleeping, working and fighting: the fey equivalent of "no rest for the wicked".

Garvin was waiting for us. He made no remark as to whether it had been two minutes or five. As soon as he joined us, he nodded to Fellstamp, who held a door open so that Krane could join us.

"Is everything prepared?" Krane asked Garvin.

"Tate has gone ahead. He will let us know if it's clear."

"Very well. We should go."

Garvin led the way down to the Way-node, while I walked alongside Krane, with Slimgrin and Fellstamp flanking us.

Tate was waiting at the Way. "They have their cordon set up. We've been around their security. It's OK as far as it goes."

"Did they see you?" asked Garvin.

Tate grinned.

"Good. I'll follow you in two minutes. Dogstar, you're next. Then you, Lord Krane. Slimgrin and Fellstamp, bring up the rear."

Tate vanished in a swirl and we waited the full two minutes. Then Garvin stepped forward and whirled away. I followed close behind, using the trail he left to guide me as I slipped around the nodes to our destination. I stepped into a damp dawn of muted birdsong and the smell of mown grass. Overhead, the sky was tinted pink as the sun tried to break through the grey clinging damply to the trees. I stepped off the Way-node where Garvin was waiting. There was the prickle of magic all around us as Garvin turned away curious eyes.

"We're here as Lord Krane's escort. Just act natural. Let him do the talking."

We'd arrived on an open lawn with strange rectangular mounds set into it, like low walls that were knocked down long ago so that the foundations were now subsumed into the grass. Ahead was a large building of toffee-coloured stone with a high pointed roof and tall leaded-glass windows. Through the mist in front of the hall I could see three large black cars. I counted five police officers carrying machine guns. There were more stationed further away at the gate in the high stone wall.

"Are we expecting a fight?" I asked.

Garvin shook his head as Krane arrived and stepped easily sideways. Slimgrin and Fellstamp slipped in behind him. Slimgrin walked away, melting into the mist. Garvin led the way, Krane came behind and I brought up the rear. As we approached the cars, Garvin let the glamour slip away. We were immediately noticed.

The police angled their weapons across their chests in a kind of salute, demonstrating readiness without obvious threat. Krane simply nodded acknowledgment as if it were his due.

A dark-suited man emerged. He ignored Garvin and me.

"Lord Krane, delighted that you could join us." He bowed slightly. "Please come this way."

He walked through an arched set of double doors into a high-arched open hall, with dark ancient beams rising over us and high stone pillars supporting the roof. It was impressive if it was half as old as I thought. What was remarkable about it, though, was not the hall itself but the walls. They were covered in horseshoes of every size and shape. Some were three or four feet across while others looked as if they might genuinely have shod horses. All four walls were adorned in this way, making the room smaller and somehow more intimate.

The man withdrew, closing the double doors behind him. Fellstamp stayed at the doorway.

In the centre of the hall was a modern french-polished table with three matching high-backed chairs arranged along either side. They looked out of place in the ancient setting. Three men were waiting on the opposite side of the room. Two wore dark suits, the other a light-grey suit: two heavies and a bank manager.

The bank manager stepped forward. "In the name of Queen Elizabeth the Second, I bid you welcome to Oakham Castle, Lord Krane, and thank you for coming at such short notice. I am Secretary Carler and I greet you here in good faith."

"Your welcome is appreciated, Secretary Carler. I bring you the felicitations of the Seven Courts and the wish for a speedy resolution to our current troubles, also in good faith."

"The wish for a speedy resolution is reciprocated, I assure you." He smiled the bank manager smile, gesturing to the seats. Carler and Krane sat. The rest of us stood, facing each other.

"I trust the arrangements are satisfactory?" asked the bank manager.

"They are as we expected," said Krane, smiling.

There was something wrong with the sound in the room. I looked about me, searching for the source. It was a kind of hollow reverse echo that preceded anything that was said. Then I realised. I couldn't hear the truth in the words that were being spoken. Something about the horseshoes, or the building itself, prevented me from discerning the truth. I raised an eyebrow at Garvin. He shook his head minutely.

"If it is acceptable, we will get straight down to business," said Carler.

When Krane didn't object, he picked up a sheet of paper from the table.

"Last night there was a serious incident involving considerable loss of life and the destruction of buildings and equipment at Porton Down Research Facility in Wiltshire. We believe one or more of the Feyre were responsible for the incident. Do you dispute this assessment?"

I noticed that his hands were shaking very slightly where he held the paper.

"I don't dispute that there was an incident," said Krane.

"Do you dispute that the Feyre were responsible?"

"Responsibility can be difficult to assign. Is the sword responsible for the cut, or the swordsman?"

"The swordsman," said the bank manager, without hesitation.

"And yet," said Krane, "if the sword cuts out a cancer then the swordsman may be revealed as a surgeon, may he not?"

"You don't remove a cancer with a sword, Lord Krane. You use a scalpel."

Krane clasped his hands together on the table. "Just so."

"Thirty-seven people are dead after last night. Thirtyseven deaths to explain to the families, and that's assuming the remaining victims survive. The destruction of a Crown facility on a high-security site, unexplained lights in the night sky, exploding aircraft, radiation burns – how are we supposed to keep this quiet?"

"That is not our concern," said Krane, quietly.

"It may become your concern."

"I do not think so."

"The Prime Minister is demanding an explanation from the Security Services and the Ministry of Defence. He's demanding full disclosure."

"I trust that you can come up with an explanation that will… satisfy him."

"My colleagues in Defence are demanding an inquiry."

"That would not be wise."

"I'm not sure if we can turn them down. This is getting beyond my ability to contain."

"It has been beyond your ability to contain for some time."

That prompted a sharp intake of breath. "Are you questioning my competence?"

"No, I am questioning your control." Krane reached into his pocket and produced the plastic container with the vial inside. He placed it carefully on the table between them. His hands did not shake. He clasped his hands again and placed them on the table.

"What's that?"

"I believe the term is: a biological weapon."

"Where did you get it?"

"It originated at Porton Down."

"Is that what you were after?"

"No. Truly, we did not know it existed. Apparently, neither did you."

"Then who made it?"

"Perhaps," said Krane, "that should be the subject of your inquiry."

The bank manager reached forward.

"If you touch it," Krane said, "we will kill all of you." The hand halted in mid-air. "We are not in the habit of allowing weapons aimed against us to fall into hostile hands."

The heavies reached inside their jackets. My hand and Garvin's dropped in perfect time to the hilts of our swords.

"Your men will never draw their weapons in time," said Krane, quietly.

The bank manager withdrew his hand slowly from the table and replaced it in his lap. The heavies slowly drew their hands back too, and Garvin and I lifted ours slowly from our swords. Everyone watched everyone else.