“What are they going to do?” asked Alex. “Snuffle around in the grass for them?”
“You give yourself away too easily, Alex.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Alex, regarding Fionh with a cold stare.
“Merely an observation,” said Fionh.
“Well cold as it is out here,” said Alex, “it not going to bother you, is it, Fionh?”
“Will it not?” she asked.
Alex pushed herself off from the fence. “Nah,” she said. “This isn’t cold, is it Fionh? We both know you get a lot colder than this.” She walked back towards the house, leaving Fionh in the shadow of the oak tree. She didn’t look back, but went inside and up to her room, undressing in the dark and pulling the curtains closed, excluding the starlight. She slipped the catches open on the windows, but left them closed, then opened the door and checked the corridor, leaving the door ajar, before she slipped into bed.
She lay in bed with the quilt wrapped round her, shivering and sucking her painful thumb. She tried to think of something restful, but instead was assailed by the images of the drops of blood on the clean covers.
It was some while before sleep claimed her.
Garvin was in one of the empty rooms on the other side of the house, away from the morning sunlight. He’d thrown back the dustsheets on a couple of armchairs and was sat in one, his hands steepled in front of him.
“You wanted to see me?” I said.
He indicated the other chair, and I sat down. He reached forward, and I leaned back warily, but he only wanted to turn my chin so that he could inspect the marks patterned across my face from where the gates outside the Royal Courts of Justice had struck me. “You’re going to have a scar,” said Garvin.
“Alex has started referring to it as my tattoo,” I said.
“That has its own irony,” said Garvin.
Alex’s arms were wound around with the images of black vines, periodically budding into dark flowers which formed gradually into berries. It’d been like that since her return. It worried me that she wore long-sleeved tops more now, as if she wanted to hide them. When I’d asked her why she was wearing so many long-sleeved tops, she’d simply said, “It’s cold.”
“Fionh tells me that last night Blackbird was practicing ritual magic inside the courts.”
“You’d have to talk to Blackbird about that,” I said warily.
“I’m talking to you about it,” he said.
“I missed most of it,” I said.
Garvin sighed. “It’s dangerous, Niall. The wardings of the High Court are there to protect us all. She could have triggered something that would be a threat to everyone.”
“I’ll tell her,” I said.
“What happened?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve started having these intense dreams, ever since I was hit by the gates — just fragments of things. It doesn’t make any sense. I got lost in one of the dreams last night. Blackbird pulled me out of it, just when it was starting to make sense.”
“That’s what happens in dreams,” said Garvin. “It’s an illusion. It’s like dreaming of falling — you wake up just before you hit the ground.”
“Do you?” I said. “Always?”
He smiled wryly. “Maybe you’re reading too much into it.”
“Blackbird thinks it might be significant.”
That had his interest. “For whom?”
“I wish I knew,” I said. “Does Kimlesh speak French?”
Garvin looked surprised. “I’ve no idea. Do you want me to ask her?”
“No, no.” I rested my head in my hands. “I go to sleep and I wake up more tired than I started. I find myself assaulted by images I don’t recognise or want. I don’t know who most of these people are”
Garvin edge forward in his chair. “Maybe you just need to get some rest.”
“I can’t rest. I have to find out what this is all about.”
“Niall, don’t take this the wrong way.” He raised his hands as my expression darkened. “You see, your hackles are already up and I haven’t said anything.”
“What?” I asked, trying to sound calm and reasonable.
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.”