Once In a Blue Moon (70 page)

Peter looked around him. Not much to see. The mostly empty room was lit by a single candle. A few pieces of furniture, covered in dust sheets. A single chair pulled up to a side table, which bore only an empty wine bottle and a half-full glass. The room stank of fear, and desperation.

“Thank God you’re here, Peter,” said Clarence. He hugged the soldier suddenly. Peter let him. He could smell the wine on Clarence’s breath. After a while he pushed Clarence away, and the minstrel did his best to straighten up and pull himself together.

“It’s not much, is it?” he said, gesturing roughly at the room, trying to smile and not quite managing it. “But traitors can’t be choosers. I had to go into hiding, Peter. Everyone’s looking for me! They want me dead!”

“I know,” said Peter. “Your old Redhart ally, the Sombre Warrior, is now one of us. And he gave us your name. You idiot, Clarence. How could you?”

“You’ve got to help me!” said Clarence miserably. He was only ever a moment away from tears. “You’ve got to talk to Richard, on my behalf, work out some sort of deal for me. I’m not a traitor! Not really. I was just . . . so angry at Richard. For abandoning us for the Princess, for leading us into the Darkwood . . . for making me afraid of the dark again. I just wanted to get back at him! I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. Not really. You were there in the Darkwood too, Peter. You know what it did to us! He should never have done that to us . . .”

“Yes,” said Peter. “I was there too. I understand.”

“I could go into exile,” said Clarence. “Not to Redhart, of course, but there’s always Lancre . . . I could go away and never come back . . . Oh God, Peter, this will kill my father! He always had such hopes for me . . . You’ve got to help me, Peter! There isn’t anyone else I can turn to! I can’t go to Richard myself, not after what I’ve done. I couldn’t speak to him. Couldn’t look him in the eye. I just couldn’t . . . You’re my friend, Peter, my oldest friend, apart from the Prince. I knew you’d come if I got word to you. Please, you’ve got to help me . . .”

“Of course I’ll help you, Clarence,” said Peter. “That’s why I’m here. That’s what friends are for.”

•   •   •

T
here was a knock on the door of Laurence Garner’s office, and he and the Sombre Warrior looked round sharply as the door swung open and Peter Foster came in, carrying a large wooden box held shut with leather straps. He nodded to the Sombre Warrior, entirely unsurprised, and put the box down on Garner’s desk. Then he stood back and nodded brusquely to the head of security.

“Peter has been working for me for some time,” Garner said to the Warrior. “Keeping an eye on the Prince for me, and keeping him out of trouble. As much as possible.”

“How did he find your office?” said the Warrior.

“All my people have a talisman that brings them right to me,” said Garner.

“I want one,” said the Sombre Warrior.

“Of course you do,” said Garner. He pulled open a drawer in his desk, took out a simple bone charm, and tossed it to the Sombre Warrior, who plucked it neatly out of midair. He studied the elaborate symbols carved into the wooden charm, then tucked it neatly away about his person.

“With events escalating as they have, it made sense for Peter to present himself as Richard’s personal bodyguard,” said Garner.

“That was my idea,” said Peter. “I was Richard’s friend long before I agreed to be your agent, to protect him from all the trouble he was getting into. I’ve always been his friend first, Garner, and don’t you ever forget it.”

“I have to wonder why you aren’t at Richard’s side right now, where you’re supposed to be,” said Garner, pointedly.

“I brought you a present,” said Peter.

He undid the leather straps around the box and opened the lid. Reached in, and brought out the severed head of Clarence Lancaster. The man who only ever wanted to be a minstrel. His face had a sad, resigned look to it.

“You killed your friend?” the Sombre Warrior said to Peter.

“I killed him because he was my friend,” said Peter. He reached out with his free hand, to brush aside a long lock of hair that had fallen across Clarence’s face. “He was a traitor, so he had to die; but I couldn’t let a stranger do it. Couldn’t leave him to the headsman’s block and a public execution. In front of his family. The Prince doesn’t need to know. His family doesn’t need to know. Let them all think he got away somehow, and vanished into exile. Kinder for all concerned. I’ve always been there, for Clarence, cleaning up his messes.”

There was another knock at the door. Peter placed the severed head back in its box. Garner glowered at the closed door.

“Far too many people know where to find me. I’m going to have to do something about that. Come in!”

The door opened, and in strode the black-clad figure of Raven the Necromancer. Without quite knowing why, everyone’s eyes went immediately to the new sword hilt sticking up behind his shoulder. Raven had nothing to say about that. He just smiled and nodded easily to all concerned.

“We have been summoned to attend the King, at Court,” he said. “King Rufus wants us all there, right now. Everybody, no excuses. I knew you were all here together, so I said I’d come and get you.”

“How did you know . . . ?” said Peter.

Raven looked at him pityingly. “The same way I know whose head is in that box. I know everything I need to know.”

“Hold it,” said Garner. “King Rufus summons us? Not Prince Richard, on his father’s behalf?”

“No,” said Raven patiently. “If I’d meant Richard, I would have said. No . . . surprisingly, I do mean King Rufus. He’s . . . changed. Taken a quite remarkable turn for the better, in fact. Don’t ask me how. But before we all go rushing off to obey our good King Rufus’ summons, do indulge my curiosity. Why do you have a minstrel’s head in a box? Is it some new kind of musical toy? I understand they can do amazing things with clockwork these days.”

“Clarence Lancaster was named a traitor by the Sombre Warrior,” said Garner.

“Ah yes,” murmured Raven. “I did hear. Justice is swift, isn’t it?”

“Richard must never know,” said Peter.

“Well, quite,” said Raven. “So . . . you need someone to make your late friend disappear completely, yes? Both the head and the body, removed so absolutely that not even a trace of him will ever be found. Luckily for you, I feel the need to do a good deed, to balance out a rather darker burden I’ve taken upon myself. I blame my uncle’s influence. Anyway . . .”

He gestured almost lazily, and the head and its box just vanished, gone in a moment, without even a disturbance in the air to mark the passing.

“Where did you send him?” said Garner. “Tell me you didn’t just dump him in the moat! He has to disappear completely!”

“Please,” said Raven. “I am a professional. I sent him back in Time. Far, far back into the past. I have done it before, when I had . . . old projects that needed to disappear completely so as not to embarrass me. There are sometimes . . . strange side effects. But nothing you need to worry about.”

He didn’t offer any details, and no one asked for any.

“That is a neat trick,” said Garner. “Any chance you could do that to the whole Redhart army? Just send them away, into the past?”

“Unfortunately, no,” said Raven. “The bigger the object, the harder it is to move through Time. A small thing, like a body in two parts, I can send back hundreds of years. An army, consisting of thousands of bodies . . . I’d be lucky to send them back a few seconds. Magic has its rules, and its restrictions.”

“Even Wild Magic?” said Peter meaningfully.

Raven smiled at him. “I couldn’t say. Now, let us all get a move on, with a shake of our tails. The King is waiting.”

•   •   •

S
ir Jasper the ghost was outside Forest Castle, walking alongside the moat. He’d been everywhere inside the Castle, most definitely including all the places he wasn’t supposed to go, and nothing he’d seen anywhere had brought his memory back to him. Some things looked familiar, some places stirred thoughts or feelings, and there were moments when it seemed everything was just on the tip of his tongue . . . but all he had to show for his travels was a sense of déjà vu powerful enough to give him a headache. If he’d still had a head. So he left the Castle and went for a little walk outside.

He felt the need for some fresh air, even though he didn’t breathe. And just lately, he’d been feeling a strong sense of foreboding as he walked the Castle corridors, a sense of . . . something important, about to happen. He couldn’t shake it off wherever he went, so that just left outside. But now that he was here, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do.

He could have gone walking on the waters of the moat, just skipping across the surface . . . but he was trying hard to feel more human, because it helped him feel more focused. So now he tried to avoid doing things that reminded him he wasn’t alive. He decided he did like being outside, because it meant nobody bothered him. The clearing was open and empty and quiet, and even the surrounding woods grew silent as the evening approached. It was all very peaceful, but Sir Jasper didn’t trust it. The more he looked at the Forest, the more its blank green face seemed like some ancient mask, with a threatening face hidden behind it.

He deliberately turned away from the Forest to look back at the Castle; and then he stopped where he was, as the Lady of the Lake rose up out of the moat’s waters. Blue flesh in a blue dress, and all of it formed out of water. She rose up and up, creating herself from the moat’s contents, until she stood poised and elegant on the surface. She shook her head briskly, and heavy droplets flew from the ends of her long, watery hair. She looked at Sir Jasper, and smiled at him, and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. And it was a measure of how moved he was that he didn’t realise how strange that was.

The Lady of the Lake strolled across the moat to stand before him, her feet merging seamlessly with the surface of the dark water. Sir Jasper moved forward to meet her, stopping at the very edge of the moat.

“Well,” the Lady said briskly, “took you long enough to get here.”

“Do I know you, Lady?” said the ghost. “I feel I should, but I have to tell you that my memory is not what it should be. I look at you, and it does seem to me that I know you from somewhere . . .”

The Lady looked at him, with an expression he knew but couldn’t place. “You’ll remember when the time comes. I am the Lady of the Lake these days. Wherever water flows through the Forest Land, I am there. I’ve been waiting for you to turn up here. You have a duty and a destiny to fulfil.”

“Are you sure?” Sir Jasper said doubtfully. “I’m just a ghost; and not a particularly good one. Do you know me, Lady? Who I used to be? My true name? It’s a sad and lonely thing, to have no name and no past.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Lady of the Lake. “It’s not time for the truth. Not yet.”

She dropped down into the moat and was gone, dissolved back into the water, leaving not a single ripple behind. Sir Jasper sniffed loudly.

“And people say I’m weird . . .”

•   •   •

H
awk knew something was wrong the moment he and Fisher entered the Court. They’d arrived first, along with Chappie the dog, intrigued by advance whispers of the sudden change in King Rufus. Hawk looked at the new sword Fisher had acquired, and knew it immediately for what it was, but he said nothing. He’d known the risk, when he sent Fisher back into the Cathedral. He trusted her judgement; even if he didn’t trust the sword.

“Which one is it?” he said quietly.

“Belladonna’s Kiss,” said Fisher. “And no, I don’t know what it does yet.”

“Maybe it makes you irresistible to men,” sniggered Chappie. “Though how that’s going to stop a whole army . . .”

“It’s not too late to take you to the vet, you know,” said Hawk.

“I have fought demons and monsters, and humped some things you don’t even want to think about,” said the dog. “I’m not afraid of any vet. Is that the King? I don’t like him. He smells wrong.”

“He looks . . . younger,” said Fisher.

He did. King Rufus sat up straight on his throne, wearing fresh new clothes that fit perfectly. His crown sat firmly on his head, as though it belonged there. His face was unlined, his long hair was thick and dark, and his eyes burned with a feverish intensity. He was gnawing hungrily on a chicken leg, as though he hadn’t eaten properly in ages. Everything about him was full of a new and somehow upsetting vitality. He nodded easily to Hawk and Fisher, and to Chappie, but said nothing as they came forward to stand before the throne.

“I know you,” said the King, smiling. “I remember you. I remember everything now.”

“What’s happened to you?” said Hawk bluntly.

“Not now,” said the King. “Let’s wait till everyone’s here. I have a lot to say, and I don’t feel like repeating myself.”

Richard and Catherine arrived next, arm in arm. Richard actually looked shocked when he saw the change in his father. The Prince and the Princess were followed, almost immediately, by Peter Foster and the Sombre Warrior, who both moved quickly forward to stand beside Richard and Catherine, as their bodyguards. Who they were protecting their charges from wasn’t immediately apparent, but they took pains to place themselves between their charges and the King. Laurence Garner strolled in on his own, and stood on his own, so he could keep an eye on everyone.

Jack and Gillian came in next, arguing loudly with each other and paying no attention to anyone else. Jack had the Infernal Device on his back, and Gillian had the glowing silver Cestus on her hand. Jack and Gillian didn’t approve of each other’s new weapons, and said so in loud, carrying voices.

“You have to give up the Cestus!” Jack said urgently. “It’s cursed! Everyone knows that!”

“And the Infernal Device isn’t?” said Gillian. “That thing’ll eat your soul, given half a chance!”

“I know that,” said Jack. “Don’t you think I knew that before I agreed to wield it? But who else can I trust with a sword like this? Who else has a real chance to fight off its influence? Gillian, please; let someone else bear the Cestus and its curse.”