"It said 'No Vacancies' outside."
"I only take recommended guests; a certain type of gentleman. You get such riff-raff otherwise. It drags the whole tone of the place down. The sign discourages passers-by."
"Trade must be good if you can afford to turn away business."
"We get by without taking in waifs and strays."
Waifs and strays. I had once been described as a waif and stray. I looked around the well-appointed hall, white-painted and clean. The waxed wooden floorboards could be seen at the side of the patterned carpet runner. A dark wood mirrored sideboard had a number of daily papers on it, including those of the scurrilous press.
She caught me eyeing the papers. "We keep those for guests – a selection of daily papers."
"Very convenient," I said.
"It's strictly no visitors, I'm afraid."
"I'm not expecting any."
"No women, or men."
"So you do have a room for me?"
She named a daily rate. "Breakfast is between seven and eight-thirty. If you're going to be out after ten, let me know and I'll let you have a key."
"May I see the room?"
I followed her up two flights of stairs to a short corridor with two numbered doors. "Number 21. No smoking in the rooms, I'm afraid. If you want to light up you'll have to do it outside on the fire escape."
"That's OK, I don't."
The room was small, but had its own toilet and shower, a small wardrobe and a matching chest of drawers. The single bed was tucked under the sloping ceiling.
"How long will you be staying?"
"A few nights, three or four, maybe a little longer. Is that OK?"
"If you book for a week, the seventh night is free."
"I think I'll be gone by then, thanks all the same." How long were the Seventh Court likely to stay? Until after the solstice, Garvin said.
"If you come downstairs I'll take your credit card details."
"I'd rather pay cash, if that's OK?"
"Cash?" She looked wary at that. "If it's cash it has to be in advance. We've had problems before with gentlemen being called away urgently and forgetting to settle their bill."
"I'd say that they weren't gentlemen, then, were they?" I paid her for the next three days from my wallet. "Obviously I'll settle up in advance if I intend to stay on."
I half expected her to tuck the money into her bra where the VAT man wouldn't find it, but she simply smiled. "That's fine, Mr Dawson. We always welcome customers who pay promptly. I'll bring a receipt up for you."
After she'd gone I went through the room carefully, finding only a Gideon bible in the bedside drawer and empty coat hangers in the wardrobe. I left my gear in my bag, not really wanting to move in. It was only temporary.
I placed my hand on the mirror screwed to the wall over the chest.
"Blackbird?"
The curtains billowed in the draft from the window as the air in the room chilled slightly. A sound entered the room, thrumming an uneven rhythm.
"Blackbird?"
"Not now."
"What's not now, darlin'?" Another voice, coarse and unschooled. It sounded enclosed; raised to be heard over the rumbling background noise. Where was she?
"I was just thinking, there isn't so much traffic on the motorway now."
"It's gonna get a lot busier as we get closer to London, you can be sure of that. You all right like that, darlin?"
"I'm fine, thanks. My boyfriend's going to be so surprised when I get there, isn't he?"
"He is if he don't know you're in that state." He laughed, but the humour leached out of it. "He does know, doesn't he?"
"Yes, he knows. I'll be fine, don't worry."
"Only you look like you're gonna drop it any minute."
"There's weeks to go yet. Don't worry."
"Is it your first?"
"Yes. Why?"
"First ones are always late. You talk to my missus. Our first was three weeks late. I was beginin' to think he weren't coming."
There was a knock on the door to my room and I dropped the connection with the mirror, the sound dying suddenly.
"Yes, who is it?"
"It's me, Mr Dawson. I brought up your receipt for you."
I opened the door to find the landlady. She offered the receipt.
"Strange," she said. "I thought I heard voices."
"I like to have the radio on," I told her, avoiding the fact that I didn't have a radio with me. "It's company."
"I like the radio myself. Is there a play on?"
"I'm not sure what it was." I stayed with the truth. "I didn't hear enough to work out what was going on."
"Oh, well. You mustn't let me interrupt then. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow. Seven till eight-thirty."
"Thanks for the receipt."
"My pleasure, Mr Dawson. Enjoy your day."
I closed the door, but had the feeling she lingered in the corridor. To make the point, I went into the tiny bathroom, quietly filled the small plastic cup there and used it to pour a long trickle of water into the toilet before flushing it noisily. The fire door down the hall thumped gently as she made her way back downstairs.
In any case I wasn't about to contact Blackbird again. Not now , she said. I would try again later. Where was she? Garvin had said he would tell her that I'd gone, but he'd been insistent she would be safe at the courts where she could be guarded. Had something happened? Wherever she was, it clearly wasn't the courts. What had caused her to leave?
The urge to return to the courts and find out what had happened was strong, but that would mean disobeying orders. Also, I assumed that once I had left they had closed the access to the Ways, sealing off the High Court while the negotiations with the Seventh Court were in progress. I comforted myself with the reassurance that Blackbird had looked after herself for many years before I knew her.
Instead, I would try and find Karen. If I was going to Hull, I could hardly take all my things with me. I'd have to leave my bag but my instinct told me that as soon as I was safely gone the landlady would be back and my belongings would be gently searched, if only to confirm my identity. I slid out the sword and laid it on the chest. If I took the sword and the codex with me, there was nothing else incriminating in the bag.
Still, I resented the intrusion.
I placed all my belongings back inside my bag and used a warding to seal the zip, so that it would jam if anyone tried to open it. I left it in plain sight on the bed. The warding was simple but effective. Now if she wanted to look inside it she would have to risk damaging the zip trying to wrench it open. I didn't think her nosiness extended to damaging her guests' luggage. If anyone seriously wanted to look inside they could slit the bag, in which case they would find the clothing and other personal items, but the damage would be obvious. I didn't think anyone would steal my change of clothes.
I would take the sword with me, partly to prevent it being discovered and partly because Garvin would expect me to. His words echoed in my head. "The Warders come armed, Dogstar. Always." I felt momentarily guilty about having left the weapon in the church earlier. No one knew and there was no harm done, but somehow Garvin's disappointment didn't need a witness.
Walking around with a sword, though, wasn't exactly in the spirit of the discretion he had advised. Of course, I could turn all eyes away from me so that no one would notice me or the sword, but that would mean no one would see me, not even anyone whose attention I wanted. What I needed was a way to carry the sword without anyone noticing it.
As long as it was with me I could use my glamour to make it appear to be whatever I wanted: a violin case, a pool cue, a baseball bat. Things that were the same size and shape would be easier, but I could make it appear as anything. None of that would blend in easily for a journalist, though, and the idea was not to raise suspicion.