Once she had moved on, Will and Nathaniel strolled to where Carpenter and Launceston were bickering in the shade of an oak tree while they swigged on flasks of sack. Wrapped in a scarlet hooded cloak, Red Meg pretended to ignore them, though they had all found some common ground in the hot days they had shared waiting to be rescued from the New World.
Carpenter looked up as Will and Nathaniel arrived. ‘Tell this beslubbering beetle-headed flap-dragon I no longer need to be watched like a troublesome child now that the Unseelie Court are in no position to stir the foul thing that still resides within me.’
Launceston raised a single eyebrow, eyeing those who milled around them. ‘I watch you because you are an accident waiting to happen, with or without your foul passenger,’ he breathed.
Carpenter jabbed a finger at the other man. ‘You are just trying to pay me back for all the days I had to prevent you from slaughtering for sport.’
‘Are you the pot or the kettle, I forget?’
‘Let them be married soon and be done with it,’ Meg sighed.
Will bowed. ‘Mistress O’Shee. You have found better lodgings than the Tower, I hear.’
‘Your master feels I may have some knowledge which could aid him with his difficulties in my homeland.’ Shrugging, she gave a sardonic smile. ‘Why, I may be able to spin this out for many a month before he discovers that, although I am many things, I am no traitor. And then I may seek you out in Warwickshire, Master Swyfte, for as you know, I am not easily deterred.’
‘Your company will be welcome as always, good Meg.’
Nathaniel tugged at his master’s sleeve and pointed towards a black carriage waiting at the end of the tilt-yard. Standing beside its open door, Dr Dee glared at them, swaddled in his cloak of animal pelts.
‘We will make merry later, my friends,’ Will said. ‘First I must take a draught of vinegar.’ He strode over to the carriage, a broad grin on his lips in the knowledge that it would irritate the Queen’s brooding conjurer. ‘Finally,’ he said, his voice brimming with cheer. ‘You are as elusive as marsh lights. I have hunted you up hill and down dale since morning.’
‘You find me when I choose to be found,’ the alchemist growled. ‘I have been summoned back to Manchester. The Queen insists I maintain the post of warden of Christ’s College. It appears I am an embarrassment in this fine new world, a reminder of the terrible compromises we all made during the long struggle.’
‘This world is changing.’ Will shrugged. ‘Now the threat of the Unseelie Court has been driven back into the shadows, a new dawn is breaking.’
‘Or new threats may appear.’ With claw-like hands, Dee tugged his cloak tighter around him. ‘The Fellows of the college wish to consult me on a troubling matter which they feel is a good fit for my area of expertise. The demonic possession of seven children. Yes, the Unseelie Court may be gone, for now, but there are devils and there are devils, and do not forget it.’ The alchemist glanced around him, and when he was sure they could not be overheard he whispered, ‘You have it?’
Will nodded. From under his cloak, he pulled at a small object wrapped in a black velvet cloth. He thought he could hear the obsidian mirror sing to him, with stories of Jenny appearing in the glass whispering words of love. An illusion, like so many things. ‘As promised,’ he said, offering the looking glass to the older man. ‘Did Cecil not insist this be delivered to his door, so his wise men could endeavour to unlock its powers for the benefit of England?’
‘One cannot trust governments or authorities of any kind,’ the alchemist snorted. ‘That would be as foolish as trusting men. This looking glass will be conveniently lost until I can find the time or the inclination to probe its secrets once more.’
‘It is not too dangerous?’
‘No secrets are too dangerous,’ Dee replied with a tight smile. ‘We risk all for knowledge. It is the sunlit hill on which we build our dreams.’ He allowed himself a brief smile before his features darkened. ‘And speaking of devils . . .’
Will glanced back in the direction of the alchemist’s glower and saw Sir Robert Cecil coming towards them with his rolling gait, two black-robed advisers following at a safe distance. Nathaniel had noticed the new arrivals too and was hurrying over, ready to defend his master should the need arise.
‘Beware of him, Swyfte. There is much poison in his fangs.’ The alchemist’s tone was not unkind.
‘That is not news, doctor.’ Will eyed the spymaster and felt the cold weight of all the lies and the betrayals that had cost him so many years of his life. And Jenny. But he had long since decided not to let that wretched past taint his days to come. This would be a fresh start for all of them.
‘Then consider this,’ the alchemist continued. ‘His hired blade was all but ready to slit your throat the moment you arrived in Tilbury. And yet that rogue was found floating in the Thames with the butchers’ offal. How strange.’
Will and Dee exchanged a sly glance. ‘Then I owe the School of Night my life,’ the spy said.
‘More than that, as you will soon discover. My friends in our society now have some influence with the Queen herself, but there has been a high price to pay.’
‘Then I thank you, too, doctor, for all you have done for me.’
‘I hope we will never meet again, Swyfte,’ Dee grumbled, ‘but I doubt the course of my life will ever run so smoothly.’ As Cecil approached, he climbed into the carriage and shut the door, knocking on the roof to urge the driver to move away.
When the spymaster arrived, Will bowed so deeply that it could only be considered a taunt. ‘Sir Robert. How fares the Queen’s eyes-in-the-shadows?’
‘Keep your sharp tongue in your mouth, Master Swyfte.’ Cecil’s eyes narrowed, but only for a moment, and then his gaze flickered elsewhere, his expression a combination of embarrassment and annoyance. ‘It seems the decision to end your employment was . . . rash. I was, of course, preoccupied with the troubling business in the Low Countries and had no notice of this affair until the papers had already been issued. But know that the offending secretary has been reprimanded . . . most forcefully, I must add . . . and that the matter has now been resolved.’
As Nathaniel joined them, Will raised one eyebrow at the spymaster’s bluster and lies. ‘Then your signature and seal was a forgery? A conspiracy reaches to the very heart of England’s security. Why, ’tis good I am away from this intrigue, Sir Robert, for if we cannot trust those in highest office, we are all at risk.’
The Queen’s Little Elf glared, knowing he had no choice but to allow the other man his moment.
Will held out his hands. ‘And yet, I have those papers, and my stipend, and Warwickshire has many comforts at this time of year—’
‘Damn you, Swyfte.’ Cecil flushed. ‘The Queen herself has requested your continued service. Even you cannot refuse Her Majesty.’
‘The Queen, you say?’ Will glanced in the direction of Dee’s trundling carriage.
‘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.’