“The iron was tainting your blood, making you feverish.”
“I think they were true,” I said. “They certainly seemed real.”
“Did they tell you where to find Sam Veldon?” she asked. “I think I’d like to pay him a visit.” There was a flash of green fire around the pupil of her eyes that could have been a reflection of the light from the candles, but wasn’t.
I found myself defending Sam. “He’s only a pawn. He told me he wanted me to die slowly, for killing Claire, but he wouldn’t know to use iron. He fired the gun, but the bullets came from somewhere else. Someone wanted me dead.”
“If they’d wanted you dead, they could have chopped off your head. No, Niall. This was a message — a warning — not just for you but for all of us. You were sent back to us tainted with iron, so that you would die slowly and painfully, where we could witness.”
“Who hates me that much?”
“Raffmir?”
“Raffmir is sworn not to harm me. He’d be breaking his vow if he had me shot.”
“Another of the Seventh Court, then.”
“Why use iron? That’s not their weapon of choice. A length of steel, yes, but iron bullets?”
“Maybe Sam’s being doing some research?” she suggested. “Maybe he has some of Claire’s journals?”
“Claire’s flat had been cleaned — more than that, it had been restored. I’m sure Sam has some shady connections, but he works alone, especially where I’m concerned. He doesn’t have the resources to have a flat cleaned and restored so that it looks like nothing happened. That takes manpower, and more people would have to know about it. Sam is all about keeping secrets, not sharing them.”
“Then who?” she asked.
“The horseshoes had gone from the locker at the National Archives, and from the flat. Sam didn’t have them with him, not that you’d willingly carry them around. Maybe he took them, maybe not, but someone furnished Sam with the bullets, and told him how to find me,” I said. “I’d like to know who it was, and why?”
I tried to push myself up, but Blackbird pressed me back down without effort. “Not tonight, Niall. You’re still healing. Even Garvin went to bed. Your daughter fell asleep watching you.”
“She looks cramped in that chair.”
“She’s young and she’ll sleep better knowing she’s with you. She helped save your life, you know.” Nestled into the chair, her hair curled and uncurled with her breathing. “Sleep now, and you can decide whether you are ready to be up and around tomorrow. Your body needs rest, so sleep in if you can.”
“If I sleep, I’ll dream,” I said.
“Then dream of healing, and of a better day tomorrow.” She stood up. “Angela and I are taking a white rose to All Hallows by the Tower tomorrow, so we’ll be able to tell you what happens.”
“You want me to come with you?”
She shook her head. “Sleep as long as you can — I’m serious. Only a few hours ago I was up to my arms in your insides. It’s a wonder you’re still alive. Rest while you can.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“For now, I’ll sleep with the baby. I’ll be close, but I don’t want you turning over and pulling the wound open. Close your eyes,” she said, “and rest.”
She laid her hand upon my forehead, stroking my hair, and despite myself I found my eyelids heavy and her cool hand restful. I drifted easily back into sleep.
The dream began more easily, and this time I knew it was a dream. A familiar smell, something of spice, and the familiar prickle of power over my skin.
The sound of conversation drifted to me in snatched phrases. “How many know of this?” A male voice.
A female voice answered. “It will be obvious to anyone who sees the broader picture.”
“Mercifully few then,” another female voice said.
The light grew and I began to see points of light, flickering in the darkness. These resolved slowly into candle flames arrayed in a broad circle around thrones I recognised. It was not the courts as I knew it, but that was undoubtedly where we were. There was Kimlesh, her hair shorter than I remembered, and Yonna looking somehow less feral, less angular than she now did. Krane lounged in his usual manner, but even he looked leaner. In the seventh throne sat someone I recognised from the one brief meeting we’d had before I’d been sent from the High Court; someone I knew more by reputation than acquaintance: Altair, Lord of the Seventh Court.
“It is a temporary state of affairs,” he said, “brought on by the incomers; they breed plague faster than they breed themselves.”
“We are immune to plague,” said Barthia, her bulky form adorned with heavy bands of gold and silver. “Their malaise cannot affect us. It cannot be the cause.”
“And yet here we are,” said Teoth.
“This must bring forward our plans,” said Kimlesh. “It leaves us no choice.”
“There is always a choice,” said Altair, “and they are not the plans of all of us.”
“Culling the humans will not help us, Altair,” said Yonna. “As Barthia pointed out, they are not the cause of our troubles.”
“Then it is pure coincidence, I suppose,” said Altair, “that their numbers have grown, as ours have diminished?”
“They are stealing something from us, we just don’t know what it is,” said Teoth.
“How?” asked Yonna. “They have no power, they have no strength. How do they steal from us? This is pure speculation.”
“They steal the food from our forests,” said Altair, “they pollute our water, cut and burn down the trees, turning abundant wilderness into strip fields and pocket farms. They build on land that is not theirs and call it home.”
Mellion made a complex series of hand movements, ending in a bony finger pointed at his open palm.
“I agree with Mellion,” said Kimlesh. “All of that may be true, but it does not change our situation one jot.”
“How long do we have?” asked Yonna.
There was a long silence, then a crackly voice spoke from the shadows. “Not as long as you think.”
Around the thrones indignation broke out. Altair spoke over the others. “Come forward, old one. Don’t skulk in the shadows. You may as well come and speak in plain sight, though you are not invited here.”
“I need no invitation,” said Kareesh, hobbling forward into the smoky light that danced around the candles. “I go where I must, and do what I can.”
“I will speak to Garvin on this,” said Krane, leaning forward from his throne as if he would pounce.
“Much good may it do you,” said Kareesh. “Like all guard dogs, he has his limits.”
“What are you doing here, Kareesh?” asked Teoth. “If there is something you wish to discuss, I will hear it, but not now. Perhaps it would be better if I should come to you. You’re not as young as you were.”
“I don’t need you to count my teeth,” said Kareesh, “and I came to speak with you assembled. I do not move these old bones lightly or without reason.”
“Your reason may be what you left behind,” said Altair.
She turned her black almond eyes on him and stared. In the end it was he who looked away. “What has been long apparent to me,” she said, “has finally become your concern. We are dying.” She looked slowly around the ring of faces.
“Do you say that from foresight, or deduction?” asked Kimlesh.
“Both,” said Kareesh. “We have played a trick on ourselves, and now it tricks us in return.”
“If this is another one of your bids to mingle the bloodlines of the courts, Kareesh, you can save your breath,” said Krane. “There is none other that will live in abomination as you and Gramawl do.”