Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

Once we were dressed and presentable I thought I would wake Alex and see if she would join us for breakfast. We had a busy day ahead of us and her help would be appreciated. With the baby in one arm I tapped on her door.

“Alex, it’s Dad. Are you awake?”

There was no response, so I tapped a bit louder. “Come on, Babe, it’s time to be up and about.”

There we still no answer. “Shall we see if she’s awake?” I asked the baby.

“Lalalalalal,” he said.

It was then that I noticed that the door was shut. She normally slept with the door open, but it was closed. I knocked more loudly this time and opened the door. “Alex, it’s getting up ti…”

Her room was empty, the curtains were open and her bed was made. There was no sign of her.

“How odd,” I said.

“Labalabalaba,” said the baby.

I closed her door again and went downstairs to find the baby his breakfast, wondering at the same time whether Alex had slept at all last night. Maybe she’d pulled an all-nighter — not the best idea with the celebrations this evening, which she would be expected to attend.

I went into the kitchen, looking for Lesley, and found my daughter instead.

“Morning, Dad,” she said brightly. “Morning, precious,” she said to the baby, ruffling her hand through his fine hair.

“Good morning,” I said. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” she said, kissing my cheek while the baby tried unsuccessfully to snag one of her curls in his grasp. “Breakfast has been cleared, but if you’re OK with toast I can do some for you?” She went to the big larder fridge, extracting a fruit-flavoured rice, then the cutlery drawer for a plastic spoon. “Are you OK feeding him that while I make you some toast?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, settling the baby into his high chair and strapping him in. He could see the rice pot now, and was getting impatient.

She warmed up milk for the baby in a pan of water. “Do you want tea?” she said. “Coffee?”

“I think coffee,” I said, stripping the top off the rice pot.

The baby stuck his tongue out. “Labalabalaba.” I wiped the sticky bit from the lid on his tongue and he grinned at me, then spread the goo around his chops with his fingers.

“Lesley tells me off if I do that,” Alex told me, placing a coffee out of the baby’s reach.

“Lesley’s not here,” I reminded her. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“I’m going for a shower,” she said. “You can drop him with me when you’ve finished, if you like?”

“That’s very kind of you,” I told her.

“Garvin was looking for you. I said I’d wake you but he thought you needed the sleep.”

“Did he say what about?”

“Something about a meeting? He said you’d want to be there.”

“Ah,” I said. “I may not have time for breakfast,” I pushed the chair back.

“Sit down and finish that while I make you some toast,” she insisted. “He won’t go without you, and anyway, he said it would do them good to wait, for once.”

“Are you sure you’re OK?” I asked her. “You look different.”

“I’m growing my hair,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s lovely,” I said, unsure I could tell the difference.

She placed toast in front of me along with a pot of honey and some butter, and the milk for the baby. “Don’t let him have any honey until he’s eaten the rice,” she advised. “Or he won’t eat the rice, and then he’ll scream blue murder until he gets more honey.”

“I’m not a complete novice,” I told her. “I managed with you.”

She kissed the top of my head. “I’m going for a shower,” she said, “but I’ll be back before you’ve finished, and I’ll take over while you go and do Garvin things.”

“Did I ever tell you were a wonderful daughter?” I asked her.

“Don’t be soppy,” she told me, and headed off for a shower.

“Ah,” I said to my son. “So that was Alex after all. I was beginning to think she’s been replaced by an alien.”

“Labalabalabalaba,” said the baby.

Garvin was waiting for me in the basement room where the Way-nodes were. Tate was with him. He nodded to me in greeting, but said nothing.

“They’re already set up,” Garvin said. “I’ve sent Slimgrin ahead to keep an eye on them. Are you ready?”

“I have everything I need,” I said. My sword was held scabbarded in my left hand.

“Do I need to remind you that this is a diplomatic meeting?” asked Garvin.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Good. Tate, you take the lead. We’ll be two minutes behind you.”

Tate stepped onto the Way-node and vanished into a twist of air. “I’m not expecting trouble,” said Garvin. Let’s not leap to conclusions. We’re simply there to establish the facts and see what their reaction is.”

“And if they deny all knowledge of it?” I asked him.

“All I’m saying is that we can’t allow ourselves to be deceived by our own assumptions. It’s a difficult time for us. We’re down two people, the courts are in flux; we can’t afford to sour our relationships with humanity as well.”

“Even if they’re trying to kill us?” I said. I didn’t get an answer. I hadn’t expected one.

He gestured to the Way-node and I stepped forward, reaching down into the flow of power beneath me. It rose in response, carrying me through an endless blackness streaked with whorls of silver as I veered around Way-nodes following the trail left by Tate. Voices that sounded like the calls of the lost echoed through the void, until I began to wonder who was more lost — me or them. I forced myself to focus on the traces of Tate’s passing.

Stepping out onto the frosted grass, I moved away from the Way-node, wrapping the area in a cloak of glamour. Tate had already moved away, probably scoping out the area with Slimgrin. I waited for Garvin to step out of the air beside me and then we both crossed the grass towards the great hall, letting the glamour fall away as we did.

Oakham Castle was never particularly large or grand and all that remains of it now are the outer walls and the great hall with its tall leaded windows. I had been here before twice — once with Lord Krane after we discovered the experiments being conducted on fey-humans at Porton Down Research Facility and once after Alex’s image was captured by a remote camera as she left the Tower of London having stolen a raven’s feather from one of the Tower birds. They say the third time is the charm.

It was used as a neutral meeting place for the High Court and The Secretariat — the government agency charged with handling relations with the Feyre. It was used because the walls inside the great hall were decorated with horseshoes. The proximity of the iron shoes made it impossible to hear the truth or lies in the words of the people there. Something in the iron, or the shape of the shoes, disrupted that ability and meant that in that space humans and fey were equally unable to hear the truth in each other’s words. It was supposed to level the playing fields, but actually it worked against us. The Feyre didn’t usually tell lies — something about truth and power makes lies uncomfortable for us. They twist on our tongues, and the presence of the iron does not help with that. We are obliged to tell truth, while our human opposite numbers can lie all they like. There are other ways of revealing the truth, though, as they were about to discover.

The guy in charge of security was a gruff Scotsman we’d met previously. He was standing on the roadway, wearing a dark suit and smoking. He was flanked by two policemen armed with short-muzzled sub-machine guns. He was the one who’d showed me the video footage of my daughter being carried by the Thames current under Tower Bridge after she’d escaped the Tower. At the time he’d pointed at the pictures of my daughter and told me she resembled nothing human. I’d disliked him before he said that.