"It won't be good luck for you," said Amber quietly. "I'll send you back to Altair in two pieces. Hear my words."
"I am charged by my Lord Altair," said Deefnir, "to bring to you, Blackbird, the felicitations of the Seventh Court."
"What?" said Blackbird.
"My Lord Altair sends his greetings. He would present them himself but he is otherwise engaged, so in his stead he sends me, his grandson, to carry his good wishes and congratulations to you for the coming of your child."
"One more move and you die, Deefnir," said Amber. "Stop playing games."
"I swear on my honour that I will not harm anyone here gathered, most particularly the half-breed Blackbird and her unborn child. Even if I wished to, I could not. It is foretold."
"What's this about, Deefnir?" Garvin stepped in, turning aside the blades, placing himself between Deefnir and Blackbird.
Deefnir remained kneeling. "The son will rise and they shall fall," he intoned.
"What? What is he talking about?" demanded Blackbird.
Garvin raised one eyebrow. "I'm not following this any more than you are."
"What are you saying?" Blackbird moved around Garvin, tightening her grip on the knife. Slimgrin stepped in close to her, his hand wrapping gently around her wrist where she held the iron knife, preventing her from using it.
Garvin glanced at the hand with the iron knife. He nodded to Slimgrin. "We don't want any accidents, do we?"
"He's talking about my baby, Garvin. I want to know what he means!" said Blackbird.
"Deefnir?" said Garvin. "You want to explain why we're running around the country so you can bring Blackbird a greeting?"
Deefnir smiled. "What hour is it?"
Garvin's expression darkened, "It's after midnight, why?"
Deefnir stood, slowly and cautiously, leaving the sword lying on the ground beside him. He opened his hands, showing he was unarmed.
"My tasks are complete. I have brought the felicitations of the Seventh Court to the mother and to the son, and brought the Warders to me. Four Warders here, Fellstamp and Fionh with Lord Altair and the High Court. That makes six."
"We are seven," said Garvin.
"Not for long."
"What do you mean?" asked Blackbird. "Where's Niall?"
"He's in Ravensby, in Yorkshire," said Garvin.
"Not any more," said Deefnir. "It is the solstice day. Your last Warder is far from there and beyond all aid."
TWENTY-THREE
Blackbird tried to wrench her wrist away from Slimgrin without success. "What have you done with him? What?"
"Calm yourself," said Deefnir quietly, "for he has chosen, and there is nowhere he would rather be. He is fulfilling his destiny."
Garvin turned to Amber and Tate. "Find Niall. Go."
They vanished into the mist.
"You have some explaining to do," said Garvin to Deefnir.
"My Lord Altair awaits your pleasure," said Deefnir with a smile.
"You can let go of me now." Blackbird tried to twist out of Slimgrin's long fingers.
"You'd better go tell the Highsmiths that you're alive," said Garvin. "We will accompany Deefnir back to the High Court."
"Where's Niall?" said Blackbird to Deefnir. "Where is he?"
"All in good time," said Deefnir.
"Don't worry," said Garvin. "We'll find him."
"You'd better," said Blackbird. "You'd bloody well better."
"If this is one of your games, Raffmir…"
"I swear by my life, the hour is upon us. Hear the truth in my voice. Your daughter is in gravest peril and will die without aid. I have made preparations, but what must be done cannot be done alone. If you would have your daughter back, it must be now, before midnight."
I stood and looked at him. I was dead tired, bruised from the jump to the boat, desperate for a change of clothes and a hot shower. Even so, the truth rang in his words. I sifted through them, searching for the double meaning, the lie within the truth that would give his plan away. I could find none.
He offered the sword again and I took it.
"Where is she?"
He squeezed my shoulder. I stared at his arm until he removed it.
"I will take you to her. Come, we must use the Ways."
He strode away towards the town, confident that I would follow. I trailed after, unwilling to catch up with him, but drawn along all the same. When he reached the road leading up the hill past the church he waited for me and then walked alongside. We passed the church, where the lights blazed inside through the great east window.
"Give me a moment," I said. "I need to deliver some news."
He grasped my arm and hauled me up the hill. "We do not have a moment, Dogstar. If you can travel faster then do so. Our time is slipping away and we have much to achieve before the night turns into tomorrow. We must go now."
I allowed him to draw me on, wondering why, after all these weeks, it was so critical now. The pace meant I felt every ache as we mounted the hill behind the town. We reached the Way-node and he barely hesitated before stepping on to it.
"Follow swiftly."
He vanished in a swirl of air and I stepped after him.
The Ways are dangerous when tired, they sap the will and divert the attention. It took every fibre of concentration to follow the path left by Raffmir. Gritting my teeth, I swerved around the nodes, whipping tight around the Way-points. I was only barely aware that we headed south, focusing only on the chill path left behind him. We veered past node after node. Then we were there.
I staggered forward on to solid ground, wrong-footed by the sudden return of gravity and space. Raffmir watched me, his smile loaded with mute sarcasm.
"If you say anything about style, I will kick you," I said.
"It never crossed my mind to comment." The lie was obvious in his voice, as he must have known it would be.
I looked around. We were in a forest on high ground. I could see distant lights through the trees, but there was no obvious sign of civilisation. We were in the middle of nowhere.
"My daughter is in the middle of a wood?"
In response, he caught my sleeve and, despite my efforts to shake him free, led me through the trees until we emerged on a clear hillside. Below us was a broad expanse of heath land scattered with small dark buildings and what looked like abandoned vehicles. Beyond the heath was a complex of buildings, white lights arrayed around them. They glowed with industrial brightness, stark against the neglected landscape.
"There," he said, "we will find your daughter."
I watched for a moment. There was no sign of occupation, no movement of people or vehicles. The place appeared deserted but at the same time lights blazed in all the offices. Didn't these people know how to switch a light off?
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Wiltshire."
"No, I meant, where in particular are we? What is that place?"
"That is where your daughter is being held. This is the facility in which she is imprisoned. Tonight we must break in to release her. I warn you, it is well guarded."
"You didn't answer my question."
"They call it after this heath on which we stand. It is called Porton Down."
I glanced at him, wondering whether this was some kind of wind-up. "Porton Down? That's the chemical warfare place. The one where they develop nerve gas."
"And for that reason alone, I would watch where you step. They test fire ordnance on this heath and you might lose a leg if you were to wander unwary, but chemical warfare is not the only thing they do here. There is research into all manner of things. It is true, though, that defence against chemical and biological weapons is their primary purpose. It is the biological aspect that concerns us. This is where they take the dangerous mongrels, the half-breeds out of control, the ones that cannot be contained through other means."