Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (57 page)

    "Trouble?" he asked. His voice was resonant and low, rich like chocolate and not in the least bit perturbed. If there was trouble, he wasn't concerned.

    Garvin glanced over at us and then shook his head.
    "No. We'll see you in Soho Square."
    "What if we're held up?" I asked.

    "Don't be late. Or we'll have to come and fetch you." He turned, the bulk of Tate retreating before him, and they walked away back down the corridor, the rhythmic tap of the staff on the tiles sounding their retreat. "Who were they?" I asked Blackbird.

    "We're being summoned to stand before the Council of Seven Courts, the full council of the lords and ladies who rule all the Courts of the Feyre."

    "Seven courts? I thought you said the Seventh Court wasn't part of that anymore."

    "Their place is held open for them should they ever decide to return. The Council is where the rulers of the courts meet together to discuss matters affecting them all. "
    "So why are we being summoned?"

    "I don't know. The Council usually acts to defend the independence and authority of each individual court. They resolve disputes between courts."

    "So why do they want to see either of us?"

    "I don't know, but you can't refuse. You have to go. "
    "What will happen if we don't?"

    "They would send those two to bring us before the court and, believe me, it would be far better to go willingly. Or we could be ruled in contempt, just like a human court except the punishments are more visceral."

    "There are only two of them," I pointed out.

    "The Warders of the Seven Courts are a cross between court officials, bodyguards and court enforcers. They carry out the will of the courts, in blood if necessary. And there are six of them, one for each court. "
    "So they'll try to bring us before the court. We can stand up for ourselves, I think we've proved that much at least."

    "The Untainted are bad enough to deal with but the Warders are different. If the Seven Courts decree an execution then these are the people who carry it out. They're specially trained to go up against the worst of Feyre society. They are the ultimate sanction of the courts. They work as a team and they make Raffmir and Solandre look like amateurs. "
    "They didn't look so bad."

    "Delivering messages is one of their more pleasant duties. They probably regard it as a day off."

    "Do you think we should go with them, then? Couldn't we run away, go somewhere remote? "
    "You may be able to run, but I can't. "
    "Why not?"

    "Niall, I am bound to the courts. When I am summoned I must go. I receive the court's protection, but I am also bound by its decisions. I don't have a choice. They'll always find me and, anyway, it's not really an option in my condition."

    "You're definitely pregnant then? "
    "You'll be a father again."

    "Oh wow. That's incredible, really. I'm delighted." I drew her to me, intending to kiss her, but she resisted.

    "I've never done this before. I confess I'm a little scared."

    "I'll stay with you. It'll be OK. We can go to ante-natal classes together. I did it with Katherine."

    "I can't go to ante-natal classes, Niall." She looked troubled.

    "Why not? It's easy. It's just exercises and stuff. You'll be good at it."

    "You forget, the baby is only partly human. Fey mothers carry their children for almost a year, not nine months. Don't you think people are going to be suspicious if it takes that long? It might not even come out looking human. I can't have a scan or let anyone see it, can I? I have to keep it secret."

    "Don't the Feyre have midwives or something? Surely if they're so keen to have children they have something?"

    "Kareesh will look after me when the time comes, but in the meantime I need somewhere quiet, somewhere safe for the baby to grow." She was looking more and more concerned.

    "It'll be OK," I reassured her, "After all we've been through, we can deal with this. I'll think of something. "
    "There's more. I'm going to lose my power. "
    "What do you mean?"

    "I'm going to lose my ability to use magic. It's already fading. Pregnant Fey can't use magic. It would be dangerous for the baby and my body won't let me. It'll close down for the duration. That's how I know I'm pregnant. What I did in the tunnels, I couldn't do any more. It's the way it should be, but… "
    "But what? "
    "Niall, I feel so helpless."

    I opened my arms and she leaned forward and rested her head on my chest while I hugged her to me. She was trembling so I simply held her until the trembling eased.

    After a while she lifted herself up and looked into my eyes.
    "Tell me that it will be OK?"

    "It'll be fine," I told her. "I promise." She rested her head back on my chest and we lay there for some time while the hospital murmured around us. "I need help," I told her, after a while. "What kind of help?" she asked.

    "I need Claire, today, now. Can you bring her to me? "
    "Here? Yes. What for?"

    "We need Claire to help us. I'll explain it to you both when she gets here. But hurry."

    "She's going to want to know why, Niall."

    "Tell her I want her to be our insurance policy."

    Blackbird and I reached Soho Square shortly before one and found the early afternoon drinkers were already established in the pub on the corner. The garden in the centre of the square was arrayed with office workers eating lunch. We found the address easily, an anonymous entrance in a row of doors. We were ten minutes early. "They're not here yet," I remarked.

    "Of course they are," Blackbird contradicted.
    "I don't see anyone."
    "You won't."

    She looked around nervously, then ascended the short flight of steps and pressed the brass doorbell mounted by the door. No one came to the door. She waited a moment and then descended back to the pavement. "They will know we're here now. "
    "I thought you said they already knew. "
    "Don't be picky."

    We waited on the pavement in full view while people walked through the square on their way to meet friends, lovers or colleagues. We scanned each face for signs of our earlier visitors, but didn't see them approach. They appeared out of the random movements of passers-by. One moment there were a number of unrecognised people strolling through the square and the next they were there.

    With them was a young woman with short, dark hair, wearing a pale grey silk shirt and trousers. Her eyes were as hard as glass. She had walked past Blackbird and then doubled back, cutting off the retreat. We knew she was one of them from the sword swinging from her hip which hadn't been there a moment before. The black lacquered scabbard gleamed with the dull sheen of constant handling. She watched us, and Garvin and Tate watched the square. Tate swung a long-bearded axe gently from one hand. It looked like a toy against his enormous frame.

    "You're on time." Garvin's smile was noncommittal, as if it was all the same to him. "Tate you know. This is Amber. You will not call power unless it is directly requested, understand? Use power without permission and we will kill you without hesitation."

    He moved down the pavement, staff tapping on the paving, away from the door where Blackbird had rung the bell. Tate and Amber moved in to flank us. "Aren't we going inside?" Blackbird asked, gesturing towards the door where she'd rung the bell. He shook his head. "There's no one in there. I checked."

    He went down the row to another similar door, as anonymous as the first, and trotted up the steps. The door opened as he reached it and a fourth member of the team was waiting, wearing the same charcoal uniform. On his belt were two long knives, one on each hip. Like every other weapon they looked worn by frequent handling. He was shorter in build with a broad nose, a bull neck and shoulders that gave him the impression of being roughly square. His hair was ginger and he reminded me of someone I had seen recently. I was trying to recall who it was as we were shepherded inside. Then I remembered. He had the same broad flat nose and protruding eyes as Marshdock. "Are they ready for us?"

    "They're assembled," he said to Garvin. "But they have some other business to discuss. Fee is with them. She'll let you know."

    Tate and Amber followed us inside. We were led through the house, past closed internal doors to what could only be described as a scullery at the back of the house. It had a range cooker that looked like it hadn't been used in decades and a large rectangular table in scuffed bare wood, scored with generations of service. A window looked out onto the back, but it was too shadowed between the buildings to see what was outside. Garvin didn't pause. He went straight to a side door at the back of the room and opened it. "Down here," he said.

    "What is it," I asked Blackbird as she descended the stairs behind Garvin, "about the Feyre and basements? "
    "It's closer to the earth," she said, as if that should explain it.

    The stairs had a bend in them and were quite difficult to negotiate, so that I wondered how Tate was going to get down them. They opened out at the bottom into two cellar rooms accessed through an open doorway. There was a faint musty smell and I noticed a tray left out on a chest with a number of wizened apples on it. They didn't look like this year's harvest.

    Garvin strolled into the second cellar and waited for the rest to follow. Amber came down after us, followed by a scraping sound as Tate eased himself down the stairway and into the room.

    "The courts are down here?" I asked Garvin. He shook his head. "Follow."

    He walked to the centre of the room, turned to face the back wall and stepped forward. There was a twist in the air, he shimmered and vanished.

    "It's one of the Ways, is that it?" I asked Blackbird. "There isn't a Way here," she said. "It doesn't go anywhere."

    "Yes it does," rumbled Tate. "You next." He nodded towards Blackbird.

    She stepped forward to the place where Garvin had been, orientating herself as he had done.

    "Interesting," she said, then stepped forward and vanished. "Now you." He nodded towards the spot.

    I walked forward, remembering the last time I had tried this. I had become lost and had nearly broken my neck getting out again. Nervously, I turned to face the wall and then felt down below my feet. The sensation was different. When we had used the Ways before I had felt the flow of power beneath my feet like a raging torrent. This was more like a stream or a tributary, the same in nature but much less powerful. I looked at Tate, but he just nodded. Amber dropped her hand to her sword hilt for emphasis.

    I reached down and felt for the connection. The Way swelled beneath me and rose. I stepped forward and felt it pick me up and rush me away. Unlike the wild ride of the other ways, this one had only echoes of the vast emptiness I had felt before and lasted mere moments. Then I was stepping into a brightly lit room which smelled neither damp nor musty. Blackbird was there with Garvin and I walked forward out of the Way across the stone tiles to allow the others to follow me. I turned around, noticing there were no windows, and realising there was someone behind me. The figure stood behind me was the size of a man. His pelt was brown like warm chestnut and his arms and legs were long under the dark grey cotton of his loose clothing. The long fur on his head fell forward over his face and there was the bright glint of dark eyes under the stringy fringe. He smiled, baring rows of sharp pointed teeth in a grin far too wide to be human. He was holding a short spear with a long, double-edged blade, held so the point angled down towards the floor. The blade looked clean and sharp and he was poised, like a dancer.

    "This is Slimgrin. He's here to make sure only invited guests arrive this way."
    "Where are we?" I asked Garvin.

    "Somewhere else," he said offhandedly. He turned to Slimgrin. "When the others come through, tell Amber and Tate to follow us upstairs and have Fellstamp help you here. Close the gate as soon as they've arrived." Slimgrin nodded. The way they used names was arrogant, as if it didn't matter that we knew them. Garvin turned and walked towards the bottom of a stairway, gesturing us to follow.

    The stairs were wider than those we had descended and doubled back on themselves to rise to an open doorway. At the top was a grand hallway of the type that might have graced a small country mansion or an upmarket townhouse. The tall ceilings gave the building a Georgian feel, as if ladies dressed in bustles and panniers would appear at any moment. There was an open door into a sitting room with armchairs loosely arrayed around a large stone fireplace. The curtains had been drawn across the large windows and a couple of Regency-style standard lamps were left on, providing a soft and unobtrusive light. The fire had been set, but was unlit. Garvin escorted us into the room.

    "Sit here for a moment until they're ready for you. It shouldn't be long."

    Blackbird went to an armchair and sat on the armrest. I walked to the fireplace and turned to face the room. I was too nervous to sit. Garvin stood next to the doorway, not blocking the exit exactly but making it clear that we were to stay.

    Amber and Tate appeared together. Tate went to the chair opposite Blackbird, the wood frame of the chair making protesting creaking noises as he eased himself into it. He rested his head on the back of the chair, placed the axe across the arms and looked at ease. Amber stood inside the door leaning back against the wall, the sword in her hand resting against the side of her leg. She watched me like a cat watches a mouse-hole. We waited in complete silence for ten minutes. I found myself listening to Blackbird breathe. The tiny sounds of the overburdened chair under Tate overlaid the faint nameless noises from the rest of the house. If I listened carefully I could hear my own blood pumping in my ears.

    Approaching footsteps warned us of the arrival at the door before she appeared. In contrast to Amber, she wore a mid-length shift dress, in charcoal grey like everyone else, but it was short enough to show off her bare legs and clung to her curves. She was tall and pretty and moved with a lithe grace that said she knew it. Her hair was blond and fell in long curling ringlets around her shoulders. Strangely, her curls appeared to move on their own, even when she was standing still, giving her an unearthly quality at odds with her pretty girl image. In her hand was a short baton, thicker and shorter than Garvin's staff and polished with a glossy black lacquer.