‘Still a chance to back out,’ he said.
Tears swam in her eyes, but she indicated for him to continue.
‘I’d do the same in your position. You’re very brave.’
Mallory rested the edge of the knife on her wrist. It was cool, her skin smooth and delicately shaded. He fought to stop his hand from shaking.
The next five minutes were lost to him. He vaguely remembered the sounds that came out of her, but they would return to haunt him during the nights to come.
Then he turned, holding it, and what brought it all home was Jerzy, the jester, usually filled with life and dance, on his knees, sobbing hysterically, yet still grinning through it: an image of the insanity to which they had all been brought.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhiannon, her head slumped on her chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her. At the box, he placed the stiffening hand on the spot the Caraprix had shown him. The lid sprang open with a flash of blue sparks, and there was the sword, calling to him. In his hand, it felt warm, easing his pain. With one sweep, he severed the clasp that held the iron sheath in place. The second sweep cut the chains and Rhiannon fell into his arms. She was barely conscious.
Mallory laid her on the flags and took another of the kitchen knives to cut the thread sealing her lips. But as the first stitch was severed, her eyes fluttered shut and her head lolled to one side.
Jerzy leaned forward to test the shallowness of her breath. ‘A secondary enchantment. When you cut the thread, it put her into the Sleep Like Death.’
‘So she couldn’t tell us what happened,’ Mallory said bitterly. ‘Can we help her?’
‘Perhaps. Back at the Court of the Soaring Spirit — Math the Sorcerer could help.’
As Mallory carried her through her desolate home, a cold desire for revenge filled him. Nothing would deter him from it.
10
In the warm womb of her room, Sophie lay back on the cushions before the fire and watched the cat move across the furniture, its shadow sometimes swelling to panther-size. Sophie had summoned it with her will alone, and while she had tried to pretend it was a normal animal, she only had to glance into the depths of its eyes to know the truth.
It was a simple trick, a testing of limits to see if she was still able to manipulate the Craft, and her skill had exceeded her hopes. It was a product of memory and emotion. Regaining the knowledge of who she really was — artist, romantic, wanderer — and bringing Mallory back into her heart had opened up the wondrous landscape of her abilities.
Pleased with herself, she left the room and made her way along the cramped, dark corridors, still flushed with love from her sudden and surprising reconnection with Mallory. As she reached the level of the main court rooms, she heard the sound of crying. Cautiously, she entered the stifling heat of one of the chambers and found Niamh curled up in a chair so large it made her look fragile and childlike, her head buried in her arms.
Sophie hesitated, then ventured in. ‘Is everything all right?’
With red-rimmed eyes, Niamh forced a smile and quickly tried to regain her composure. ‘For most of my long existence, I have never cried. Church taught me how to, along with many other things, and I will always remember him for that.’
‘You were close?’
Niamh motioned for Sophie to join her. ‘I loved him in a way I have not loved anyone before. But his heart always belonged to another.’
‘Ruth.’
Niamh nodded. ‘Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have their own special gravity. At least, that is what I tell myself.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘Now I have other matters to concern me.’
‘The war?’
‘It threatens all the Golden Ones have ever held dear. My people are in disarray. The Great Courts have never worked easily together. Now any failure to unite will lead to our complete destruction. Yet still they will not talk.’
‘There’s something else on your mind, I can tell.’
‘Your Craft gives you great perception. My brother is missing again, and I fear he may have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. Others, too, are missing. The Morrigan, of course. Math has not been seen for …’ She waved a hand wearily. ‘I am afraid the Enemy has infiltrated the Court of the Soaring Spirit. That no one here is safe. What kind of a queen am I to allow that to happen? In my darker moments, I believe I do not have the ability to lead. I wonder if I should give up my title for the sake of my people. Let someone else take charge, someone better suited to lead in these trying times.’
‘Church told us all about you. No one could do a better job.’
‘You are kind, as befits a Sister of Dragons. But still, the weight of these days lies heavily on me.’ She dried her eyes, but her face remained taut. ‘I am troubled by too many mysteries. My own existence … I have dreams that I died. I cannot recall how I returned to the Far Lands from your world.’ Unsettled, she leaned towards Sophie in confidence. ‘And now I am all alone.’
‘You’re not alone. We’ll stand by you, in the way that you’ve always stood by us.’
This appeared to soothe Niamh, for she smiled warmly. They were interrupted by the crash of the door as Caitlin marched in.
‘You’ve got to see this,’ she announced.
Sophie and Niamh followed Caitlin up onto the palace’s ramparts. In the north, fire flickered in the sky near the horizon.
‘What is it?’ Sophie asked.
‘A candle, calling someone home.’ Caitlin handed Sophie a brass spyglass.
The distant flame sharpened into focus. It was the burning outline of a man. Sophie estimated it must have been hundreds of feet high.
Behind then, Niamh began to mutter, ‘They are bringing him back. They are bringing him back.’
‘Bringing who back?’ Sophie asked.
But Niamh appeared to be in a trance where something was speaking through her.
The wind carried the bitter smell of ashes, and the air of disaster drawing closer.
11
Instinctively, the guards averted their gaze or squirmed involuntarily as the Libertarian strode through the Heathrow Security Annexe. He knew they registered him as a blur of static on the periphery of their vision, an anomaly that their brains couldn’t quite comprehend — unless he decided otherwise, or they were spider-ridden, of course, and then they had no choice but to see him, in all his glory.
In his room, the senior officer who had been tasered by Hunter was already sweating heavily in anticipation. He glanced nervously at the Libertarian as he entered, swallowed hard, couldn’t find any words.
‘Get rid of them,’ the Libertarian said.
The man jumped from his chair and dismissed the guards. ‘There was another one …’he began hesitantly.
‘Excuses are so tiresome.’
The senior officer flinched as the Libertarian raised his hand to brush back his own hair. He said thoughtfully, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. Too messy. All those questions, doubts — it’s not conducive to the smooth running of reality. Maybe later, when you’re away from here, and I’m bored.’ He flopped into the officer’s chair and swung his feet onto the desk. ‘Two groups of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons infesting the place. That is rather an irritation.’
‘They won’t get far-’
‘Oh, they will. They’re clever and instinctive and, quite often, counterintuitive. Your breed is not built to deal with that approach.’ The Libertarian removed his sunglasses to clean off a spackle of blood. ‘If I could only remember what happens in the coming months, things would be so much easier. But there’s too much static.’ He rapped the side of his head. ‘Still, it all turns out nice, so-’ He started. ‘Are you still here? Go on, run along, before I change my mind and dismantle you.’
Alone with his thoughts, the Libertarian felt unusually uneasy. Memories of the future, memories of the past, intertwined, conflicted. Why was he thinking about the person he had been? Those days were long gone, and their loss had never really concerned him until the last few hours.