“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.
“No, that can’t be true.” I paced in front of the door. “There are all sorts of ways of eavesdropping on conversations. They could be using mirrors, or hidden microphones…”
“Microphones wouldn’t work, and there are no mirrors in the High Court. Even the curtains are drawn to prevent reflections from the windows. Discussions in the High Court are limited to the people who are there,” she said.
“What about Kimlesh, or Yonna, Mellion — any of them could be feeding back information?”
“In theory, yes,” agreed Blackbird, “But the information revealed hasn’t helped any of them. What would they have to gain?”
“They could be secretly against the Eighth Court?” I suggested.
“Then why spend so much time and energy fostering it?” she asked. “If any of them changed sides, the balance of power would shift against the Eighth Court. That would be end of any negotiations. There’s no reason for secrecy. I’m telling you, someone has been telling tales and it’s someone who was there.”
I shook my head.
“Niall, I’m asking you not to tell him where the dreams are coming from. If Angela holds the key to this and she’s passed it to you, then it has to stay with you. I can’t afford for it to get to Krane and Teoth.”
“We don’t even know what it means,” I said.
“But what if Altair does?” she said.
“Then we have to find out before he does,” I said.
“The High Court is convening. I have to go,” said Blackbird. “The knights, the horseshoes, all of it will have to wait. Take the names to Claire. See if she recognises any of them.” She handed me the piece of paper with the names of the knights on it.
“And if she does?”
“Find them.”
SIX
When I told her I was going to see her mother, Alex volunteered to come along. This time she wore sensible shoes and jeans, but it was still clear to me that she was no longer my little girl. We turned up on Katherine’s doorstep for the second time in two days. Katherine hurried us through the door as if we were spies.
“What’s all that about?” I asked her.
“We don’t want anyone to know that Claire is here,” she explained.
“Then just act normal,” I told her. “All this cloak and dagger stuff is only going to draw attention.”
Katherine hugged Alex, and then cupped her chin in her hands and looked at her. “You have bags under your eyes.”
“I didn’t sleep well,” said Alex.
“Bad dreams?” I asked her.
“N… no,” she said. I could hear the lie in that.
Katherine hugged her again and ushered us into the sitting room. The curtains were drawn, even though it was mid-morning. I threw back the drapes without ceremony.
“What are you doing?” said Katherine.
“I’m letting in some light. If you leave the curtains drawn like that they’re going to think someone’s died. You’ll have the neighbours round.”
“Someone will see her,” said Katherine. Claire sat on the sofa, blinking in the unaccustomed brightness.
This was nonsense. There were net curtains behind the drapes so no one could see in. “We’re going to have to find you somewhere else,” I said to Claire.
“Katherine has been very kind,” said Claire. “I’m extremely grateful.” That was me told.
I sat down on the sofa next to her and handed her the piece of paper with the names on it. “What do you think of these?”
“I recognise that one,” she said, pointing to Walter le Brun. “Where did you get these?”
“Let’s just say I dreamed them up,” I said. “Any of the others?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “These are all Norman names — FitzRou is familiar, but that’s not surprising. Fitz means a child of unrecognised parentage.”
“A bastard?” I asked, earning a sharp look from Katherine.
“In the original sense,” Claire confirmed, “and FitzRou would imply a royal bastard or a bastard with unacknowledged royal connections.”
“Any of the others?”
“They’re all names I recognise, but not necessarily in this context. De Ferrers is from the Norman French, ferrieres, meaning a farrier or blacksmith.”
“That might fit, given the horseshoes,” I said.
“This is as a family name,” she said. “They weren’t necessarily farriers at the time. Montgomerie, that name is familiar…”
“If I told you that these were six knights, who met in secret, would that help?” I asked her.