Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

Garvin spoke quietly. “I’m already a man down. Fellstamp hasn’t stirred and it’s been months. We’re not sure how long he can last. He’s slowly wasting away. If he doesn’t come round soon then it may be too late.”

“You blame me for that as well?” I asked.

“I’m not blaming anyone,” said Garvin, “but I can’t afford to lose another man. We’ve managed on six before and we can do it again, but five? Tired people make mistakes, Niall. Fatal ones.”

“What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’d recommend rest and relaxation, but there’s precious little chance of that with the negotiations on the Eighth Court in session.”

“If I rest, I dream,” I said. “And it’s no rest at all.”

“If you were Fellstamp, I’d recommend you get drunk. If you were Tate I’d set you felling trees until exhaustion claimed you. Fionh I’d send to the practice hall to beat seven shades of shit out of whatever she could find.”

“And if I were Amber?” I asked.

Garvin gave me an odd look. “Is there something between you and Amber?”

“No, I’m just curious.”

“Be careful of curiosity, Niall. It can lead you in odd directions and Blackbird isn’t the forgiving kind.”

“I’ll take your advice on that,” I said.

“Seriously, Dogstar. You need to get your head straight. Go for a walk, meditate, jump into a lake — do whatever it takes to clear your head.”

“I’ll try and think of something,” I said, standing.

“And try not to read too much into it,” said Garvin.

I shook my head. “How much is too much?” I asked him.

“Are you there?”

“Do you even need to ask?” whispered the voice.

“She was doing blood ritual within the courts. Whatever you’re doing to him, they’re going to find out.”

“I’m not doing anything to him,” whispered the voice, calmly.

“Well someone is!”

“Keep your voice down,” said the whisperer. “They will hear.”

“She only needs to twist it into a divination and they’ll know.”

“Relax. Divination is not her talent.”

“What about the girl? She was there too. She’s nosy, hangs about where she shouldn’t be.”

“The girl has power, but not control. That was seen to. Relax. It’s all going to plan. Soon we shall see what we shall see.”

“Perhaps we can arrange an accident? No one need ever know.”

“She’s unpredictable,” said the whisperer. “Her strength comes and goes. Make a mistake and it could go badly. Leave her alone. Her time will come soon enough.”

“That’s all very well for you to say. It’s not your neck.”

“You’re too impatient. Nothing is achieved without risk.”

“Better when the risk is not yours, though, eh?”

“Do you still want my help?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then stick to the plan. You will get your reward.”

“And what then?”

There was no answer.

When I went back upstairs, Blackbird was getting ready to resume discussions with the courts while she discussed tactics with Angela. She stepped into the long dress, threaded her arms into the sleeves and adjusted the bodice.

“You’re getting quite good at that,” I commented.

“It’s practice,” she said. “I bless the inventor of the zipper. It’s so much easier than all those tiresome buttons. Mullbrook is having another three dresses made for me.”

“He’s taken a shine to you,” I said, “and although he has no official status, he is listened to. You could have worse allies.”

“What I need are more numerous allies,” she said. “What did Garvin want?”

“He asked me to mention that the use of ritual magic was not permitted at court,” I said. “He says it’s dangerous.”

“For him or me?” she asked.

“He says you could have triggered the wardings. He wasn’t specific about who would be harmed.”

“Can’t be giving too much away, can we?” she ventured. “You can let him know that you’ve delivered the message.”

“He’s also worried about me.” I admitted.

She stopped fussing with her hair and looked at me, concern in her eyes. “That makes two of us.”

I shook my head. “Maybe the incident with the gates did more damage than we realise. Maybe I have concussion.”

“Ahem,” coughed Angela, politely. “I think I may be able to offer a suggestion, or at least an explanation.” We both looked at her.

“Go on,” said Blackbird.

Angela looked uncomfortable. “When he… when I was… that is to say…”

“Spit it out,” said Blackbird.

“The lemonade,” said Angela.

“Spit out the lemonade?” said Blackbird. “What’s this nonsense?” She turned to me, only to see from my face that I was having a dawning realisation. “What?” she asked.

Angela continued. “When Niall first came to me, I knew who he was, or at least I knew about him — ever since that night in Porton Down. I was being driven mad by dreams and images and I knew they had something to do with Niall. I didn’t know what they meant. I couldn’t sleep without dreaming about them. It was driving me crazy.”

“Like you’re dreaming now,” said Blackbird, catching on.

“I wanted him to understand. I needed him to tell me what they were about. So I stirred the memories into a glass of lemonade.”

“Oh no,” said Blackbird, turning to me, “You idiot! You drank it! You may as well have eaten a shiny red apple with the words ‘Eat Me’ written on it in dripping poison.”

“I think you’re getting your stories confused,” I suggested.

“Confused?” She was shouting now. “You’re the one that’s confused. You’re supposed to be a Warder. You don’t take offerings, bribes or gifts. At all. Ever!”

“It was only lemonade,” I pointed out.

“Except it wasn’t, was it?” she turned on Angela. “What did you do?”

Angela backed away towards the window, holding out her hands to ward off Blackbirds anger. “It was quite innocent. I never meant any harm.”

“I never meant any harm…” said Blackbird. “Those words should be engraved in stone somewhere and used to bash the pair of you into oblivion. Well, you’ve done it now,” she said. “Does Garvin know about this?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I never thought to mention it.”

Blackbird paused, folding her arms, thinking. “Don’t tell him,” she said.

“What? He’s my boss. I have to tell him.”

“As the Lady of the Eighth Court, I’m asking you not to tell him.”

“I’m not a member of the Eighth Court,” I pointed out. “I’m a Warder. I work for all the courts.”

“Please, Niall. He doesn’t need to know.”

“He already knows most of it. I told him myself not half an hour ago. I can’t start keeping selected bits of information from him. What if he finds out?”

Blackbird chewed her thumbnail. She shook her head. “We have a problem,” she said.

“You’re right about that,” I agreed.

“No, we have another problem. There have been discussions with Yonna, Kimlesh and Mellion. To some extent we see eye to eye on things that matter and we’ve been trying to work through the issues.”

“So?” I said.

“Garvin’s been present at some of these discussions, even if only in the background, and remarks made subsequently by Krane and Teoth, especially Krane, lead me to believe that they are aware of the substance of those discussions.”

“You’re saying that Garvin is spying for Krane? That’s not possible. Garvin works for all the courts, not any single court. He’s as straight as a die.”

“I’m saying that information is getting back,” said Blackbird.