Into that shadow stepped two men. One wore a long coat, and the other a dark suit.
“Do you know what to do?” asked the one in the coat.
“I do,” said the suited man.
“It must be done right,” said the man in the coat.
“I know,” the suited man replied.
“It’s almost noon.” The man in the coat glanced down the central aisle and then nodded to the second man. “Be careful.”
“I will,” said the suited man. He waited until the first had left the church via the vestry door and then walked quietly into the Lady Chapel and knelt before the image on the wall before him. To one side there was a white sculpture on a stand which was supposed to represent the Madonna, but appeared to have spikes emerging from it. Somehow it seemed appropriate. He bowed his head. He heard Blackbird and Angela when they entered through the door at the far end of the church, but he did not stir. He listened to them approach and only then did he rise and step out into the central aisle.
“There is no service today,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Blackbird started at his sudden appearance. She was holding a white rose in one hand, being careful of the wicked thorns that adorned its stem. “We didn’t come for a service,” she said.
“Indeed,” said the man, noting the rose and glancing from Blackbird to Angela and back to Blackbird. “Is there something else I can do for you?”
“We would like to present this white rose,” said Blackbird, “at the foot of the altar of All Hallows by the Keep on the eve of the winter solstice.”
“Are you sure you have the right day?” said the man. “And the right church?”
“It is the winter solstice tomorrow,” said Blackbird. “Today is the eve.”
“I’m sure it is,” said the man. His smile was indulgent, as if they were a little stupid, or perhaps confused.
From outside the church, they could hear the chimes of a clock starting to toll out the noon bells. “Do I simply place it on the steps?” she asked the man.
“Do you?” he said. “I won’t prevent you, if that’s what you wish to do,” he said.
“On the cushion before the altar?” she asked, “Is there anything special for it to rest on?”
He smiled. “You’re confusing this with the rose rent on the summer solstice,” he said. “Do return in the summer and you can see the ceremony then. It’s quite a spectacle.”
“When you say confusing this,” said Angela. What is this, that you are referring to?”
“That’s not for me to say,” he answered her, smiling politely.
The chimes ended and there was a slight pause when all was silent. Even the muted rumple of the traffic seemed to pause for a moment. Then the bell started tolling the hour. Blackbird stepped forward and placed the rose on the kneeling cushion at the step of the sanctuary. The man did not move.
“There,” she said. “It’s done.” She turned back to the man.
He waited until the full twelve chimes has rung, then he reached inside his jacket pocket and extracted a large bronze key. “I believe this is what you require,” he said, dropping the key into her open hand.
“Is that it? The key to Grey’s Court?”
“Isn’t that what you were expecting?” he asked them.
“Yes,” said Blackbird. “Is that all? There’s no deed, no contract?”
“As the key-holder, what else do you require?” he asked. “You are welcome to stay and give thanks.” He gestured towards the pews arrayed down the church.
Blackbird looked at Angela and Angela shrugged her shoulders.
“Thank you,” said Blackbird.
“You’re welcome,” said the man.
He watched as Blackbird and Angela walked back down the central aisle, waiting until he heard the outer door close and the sound of the traffic recede. Then he turned and walked slowly to the back of the church and stepped through the arch, turning towards the vestry door. He opened it and stepped through. Inside the man with the coat waited for him.
“Did they take it?” he asked.
“They did,” said the suited man.
“What about that?” asked the man in the coat. He gestured towards the floor of the vestry where a man lay dead, his neck at an awkward angle.
“An accident,” suggested the suited man. “Hard to prove otherwise. There’ll be an investigation, but that needn’t concern us.”
“Excellent,” said the man in the coat. He led the way to the side door and placed his hand on the wood of the door. There was a clunk as the lock tumbled and he pulled open the door, allowing the other man through.
“I would make a good priest,” said the suited man.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the man in the coat. “You’ve just murdered someone.”
“Ah, yes,” said the suited man. “There is that.”
TWELVE
“Altair!”
“Do not use that name here,” said the whisperer. “I forbid it.”
“You were watched.”
“When?”
“Whoever it was you sent to put pressure on Kimlesh’s Court. They were seen negotiating. Tate followed them.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. How could you be so careless?”
“Do not think that because you share my secrets that you can speak to me so. When you chose to throw your lot in with mine, we sealed a bargain, but I am the Lord of the Seventh Court, and you… you are my servant.”
“I am not your servant.”
“Your loyalty is to none other, not any more. Remember that.”
“We did strike a bargain, and I’ve seen precious little in the way of a return.”
“They have taken the bait,” he whispered.
There was a pause. “What? You’re sure?”
“Of course. I would not say if it were not so.”
“Then it could be soon?”
“The solstice. There will be a window of opportunity,” said the whisper.
“And then you will deliver on your side of our bargain?”
There was only silence.
When I awoke, I was in bed alone. I tried to sit up, and then regretted the attempt as the skin at my side tightened, making me gasp. Looking down at my side, the wound was already scarring over. Blackbird’s skill was healing them even faster than I would normally heal, but they were still tender to touch.
Sunlight edged through the gap in the curtains, and I rolled out of bed in an ungainly but less painful manner and went to draw them back, revealing a crisp day where the frost still lay wherever the winter sun had not yet touched. The sun was as near high as it was going to get — Blackbird must have already left to keep the appointment at the church with her white rose, leaving me here asleep. Perhaps she thought I would be more trouble than help, or perhaps she thought I needed the rest. Checking in the nursery, I found the cot also deserted. I found it hard to believe I had slept through my son’s awakening, but it had been the sleep of exhaustion, and hopefully of healing.
Then it came back to me — the dream of the courts. I felt sure it was a true dream, but how long ago had that happened? If I asked any member of the High Court, they would want to know where I came by such information, and I was not ready to show my hand. Some of the memories that Angela had given me were coming to the surface and I was slowly discovering things that no one outside the High Court knew. I wondered if even Garvin was aware — or had that been him skulking in the shadows at the edge of the court?
I showered, cleaning the pink skin on my side where Sam’s bullet had left a puckered scar, now bisected by a newer scar running down my side. The water allowed me to clean off the patches of dried blood. I was healing impressively fast now that the iron bullets were removed. I probed the new skin with my finger, finding it still tender.