Claire stepped forward and laid the broken Quick Knife on the desk and folded back the cloth.
It was difficult for me to see the knife clearly for the haze around it, but there were clearly two pieces to it. I backed further away and I could see Blackbird was having trouble maintaining her composure.
Claire looked up from the table at us, curious at first while a slow understanding grew in her eyes. She looked again at the knife and then back at us. There was a tense silence as she considered our reaction. I think Blackbird was trying to act normally, though she was failing. I wasn't even trying.
"You're from the other courts, aren't you?" Claire spoke quietly and it wasn't a question. She stepped back and pushed the door closed behind her. I wished she hadn't.
"Other courts?" Blackbird simply repeated the phrase. "One minute. I need to get the box."
Claire opened the door again and stepped out, closing the door behind her, but leaving the knife unwrapped on the desk. I considered edging around the room and running out of the building. I glanced at Blackbird who clearly had the same thought.
The door opened and Claire entered carrying a dark wooden box. She placed it onto the table and opened it, then re-wrapped the knife in the soft dark cloth and placed it into the open box alongside a similar knife that gleamed with a dull sheen. As she closed the lid, the tension in the room evaporated. Blackbird and I visibly relaxed.
"Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?" Claire said in a slightly brittle manner, turning to lean on the edge of the desk, regarding each of us in turn.
Neither of us spoke. It was clear that Claire knew more about this than we had thought, but what she knew and why was still an open question.
"I think it would be a good idea if we had some tea, don't you? Yes, that's probably the thing. Please, make yourselves comfortable again. I apologise for the disturbance. It never crossed my mind." She went back to the door, turning back, almost as if she were checking we were still there. "Give me a few moments."
We were left alone again, though the door had been left ajar.
"What is that?" I asked Blackbird.
"She called it the Quick Knife. It may be a corruption of Quit Knife, for the ceremony, do you think? "
"I have no idea, and I don't really care. Are we leaving?"
"No, this is important. She clearly knows more about this than we imagined. If we leave now we may miss something."
"I won't miss the contents of that box. Did you see it?"
"I've never seen anything like it. It must be part of the ceremony. Didn't the leaflet mention a pair of knives?" She delved into her coat to retrieve the leaflet. "Here it is. 'Two knives, one blunt and one sharp.' Which one do you think that was?"
"I don't know, I couldn't see through the haze around it."
"Haze?"
"Like fumes, coming off it, distorting the air around it. You couldn't see them?"
"No, but I could feel them."
"It's dangerous, Blackbird. That's not a ceremonial blade. It's intended for something much darker. "
"That's the point, though, isn't it? We're looking for something much darker."
The door pushed open and we both lapsed into silence as Claire entered with a tray loaded with a teapot, milk, sugar and even a plate of biscuits.
"Would you mind moving the journal, please? I must apologise for my thoughtlessness earlier. It never occurred to me that you were, well, like that. "
"Like what?" Blackbird moved the journal across the desk away from the tea and the dark wooden box. "From the other courts. I think 'Fey' is the proper term, is it not?" She put down the hot teapot and set about arranging cups and saucers, not meeting Blackbird's intense scrutiny.
"It is," I answered, winning a sharp look from Blackbird, but my curiosity at her use of that particular word was too strong to let it go. Besides, I wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know.
She gestured to Blackbird to take a seat, and we both looked at the box containing the knife.
"I could move it to the sideboard if you would be more comfortable?" she offered.
"It would make things easier," Blackbird responded. She picked up the box and was then caught as she made to move towards me and I backed away. Just the thought of what was in the box was enough to make me stay clear of it. She smiled an apology and turned the other way to discover a worried look on Blackbird's face. She was made of sterner stuff, however, because she smiled a nervous acknowledgement and moved around towards the door, allowing Claire to get past and place the box on a small table near the leaded window where the dark wood of the box was set against the warmer tones of polished chestnut beneath it. "There, that might be better. Shall we have tea now?" Her version of a disarming smile had a fragile quality to it and I wondered just how confident about this she really was.
"That would be kind," Blackbird agreed and we moved to sit around the desk, Claire at one end of the desk and Blackbird and I at the other. She poured out three measured cups and added milk in precise quantities, making me wonder how often she performed this small ritual. "It would be helpful if you could show me some credentials?" she suggested, handing each of us a cup and placing the plate of rich tea biscuits near to us, so she could move the tray out of the way.
"What sort of credentials?" Blackbird countered.
"I am sure you understand that I need to make sure you are who I think you are, if you see what I mean?"
The brittle smile returned.
"A demonstration?"
"If you wouldn't mind?"
"Give me your hand, then."
She demurred. "I'd rather not, if you'll forgive me. I was warned against direct contact. A simple change of appearance would suffice." She appeared ruffled by this exchange.
"Very well." Blackbird shifted slightly in her seat and then her form melted, reforming into the red-haired girl from the coffee shop in the square, except she wasn't dressed in quite the same style. This was simpler, with none of the polish or gloss that had been part of that persona, but a simple fresh beauty that left me wondering, yet again, who I was dealing with. She held it for a moment and then melted back into the Blackbird I knew. It was impressive, and disconcerting, and it was pure Fey. Claire had acquired the look of a deer caught in the headlights, but she dissembled well. "That's, well, that's fine, and your colleague?"
Claire turned to me. I glanced at Blackbird and she shook her head slightly. "I'll vouch for my colleague. "
"I'm afraid my instructions are quite specific. All parties are to identify themselves. I'm sure you understand the reasons."
"Something small then, please, Niall?" she suggested. I guessed that she was trying to steer me away from summoning gallowfyre, as I had with Marshdock. I was somewhat at a loss to come up with an alternative, though. I didn't want to change my whole appearance as Blackbird had done as I was only just getting used to the face I was wearing. If I reverted to my real appearance then Claire might recognise me as the person the police were seeking, so that wouldn't do either. I looked around and my gaze caught the reflection from an ornate mirror on the back wall. "Something small?" I nodded towards the mirror.
Blackbird glanced at the mirror and raised an eyebrow at me. There was a sense of challenge here.
I calmed myself for a moment and then reached out to the mirror, not with my hand, but with my will. I pulled at the surface of the mirror, reaching for what I knew was there. The mirror, though, felt like a dead thing with nothing that would give me any purchase. Blackbird had said the other wraithkin had used the mirror, and I had drawn lines in the mirror's surface only last night. I knew it could be done. Last night had been different, though. It had been like drawing in a thick viscous liquid. Maybe I was mistaken to call to the reflective surface of the mirror. Maybe what I needed was within.
I focused again, clearing my mind, and reached out with my will, pulling at the silvery depth of it. I reached within and formed a connection. This time I could feel the tension there, the inertia of it. Power pulsed within me and the ambient light in the room dimmed as the mirror went milky white.
"Gently, Rabbit, gently," Blackbird encouraged.
I relaxed my hold on it a little and the light in the room returned, the mirror clearing, but I could feel the connection with the undercurrent in the mirror. A sound grew gently in the room. It had the ambience of a large busy space. The sound of people milling around gently entered the quiet room. Then an announcement reverberated through, confirming that the British Airways flight to Hamburg was now boarding at gate 14. The sound included little shuffles and scrapes, layered over the ambience and I knew that this was where Alex was. My unconscious mind, worried about her, had somehow located her though the mirror and brought me the sounds from where she was. In a way, it was comforting though it felt a little like eaves-dropping on someone else's conversation. Hadn't the announcement said Hamburg? Is that where they were going? Suddenly conscious of my audience, I released the mirror before the sounds gave away who it was we were listening to. There was a slight ripple as I let go, radiating out slowly across its surface like a stone dropped into a pool of slow silvery syrup.
Blackbird was smiling at me. "Is that sufficient?" she asked Claire.
Claire hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, and asked the question that was bothering her. "How do I know you're not from the wrong court? "
"That's simple. They are only interested in wrecking the ceremony and making sure it doesn't happen. If we were from that court then you would be dead by now." Blackbird smiled, and it was not a comfortable smile. "Your turn," she prompted.
"What do you mean? I certainly can't do anything like that."
"No, but you said all parties must be identified. How do we know you are who you are supposed to be? "
"I'm the clerk to the Queen's Remembrancer."
"Suppose you tell us a little more, some background, just to reassure us."
"Very well. I already said that I am the clerk to the Queen's Remembrancer and you know I am the caretaker of both the current journal and of the knives. Perhaps I should say that I am the latest in a long line of clerks to this office, since the time of King James I, when certain very particular duties of the role were passed to the clerk when the king decreed that he would have no truck with witchcraft and neither would any of his officers.
"Actually, things became easier when the duties were passed to the clerks. Each clerk chooses their successor and so is able to instruct them in the duties to be performed, rather than being appointed by the monarch, which is the case with the Remembrancer. Being able to choose who will be clerk after us gives us a continuity that perhaps would otherwise have been lost. Of course, there's always the chance of accidents, so each clerk makes a bequest in their will of a journal, a little like this one, containing instructions on how to conduct the ceremony. It has references to certain texts, now mostly in the private archives of the Public Record Office, showing the line of succession from each clerk to the next, together with the original royal decree instructing the ceremony to be conducted for as long as there is a throne in England."
"Does the current Queen know you do this?" I asked. "I've never met the monarch, as it was the Remembrancer that was presented to her, so I have no way of knowing, but on balance I think not. After James I, the kings and queens took a deliberate disinterest in these matters, making it easier for them to deny all knowledge. I know from my predecessors that the Church was very determined to stamp out anything heretical or pagan. The ceremony survived, though. It was a matter of law, not faith, and therefore outside the Church's jurisdiction. I am the latest in a long line of clerks going back to the time of King James. I serve the Remembrancer and it is part of my duties to see that the ceremony is carried out annually and that the Remembrancer plays his part."
"And you know about the Feyre?" Blackbird gently steered her.
"There are notes in the journals. They make fascinating reading if you can decipher them. They're much less straightforward than the official journal you have there, though. There are entries concerning certain meetings; it isn't until fifteen hundred and something that the word 'Feyre' is actually mentioned. Before that they are referred to as 'The Others' or 'The Visitors'. "
"Go on."
"Remember, a clerk can go through their entire term and not meet anyone from the other courts. It's quite a privilege, in a way, though there have been incidents. "
"What sort of incidents. "
"I'm not sure I should say."
"Claire, I promise no harm shall come to you by our hands this day. You have nothing to fear from either of us."
She deliberated for a moment. She must have known something about the Feyre and their inability to lie convincingly because she continued, "When I said we were warned against direct contact? That was after my predecessors demanded proof from one of your kind. From what she told me later, she was quite direct, shall we say."
"They took it the wrong way?" Blackbird suggested. "I was called to a hospital out in the country in the Thames Valley, an asylum I suppose you might call it. She was screaming my name, crying that she needed me. When the doctors phoned me, I explained that I barely knew her. I had been interviewed by her on a civil service panel while at university and then she invited me to spend a week at the Royal Courts of Justice as work experience. I liked her, but you couldn't say we were friends. She was insistent that she needed to see me, though, and the doctors thought it might calm her. "When I arrived, she was screaming about spiders crawling all over her, in her hair, her ears, her eyes. She was scratching herself with her nails and they had to sedate her. I sat with her and held her hand for a while, hoping it would be enough to calm her down. Quite suddenly she was lucid and recognised me. She told me I had been chosen for an extremely important job, a secret vocation. I thought she was raving, of course, but then she told me about the safe containing the knives and her journal. She told me to go to the Queen's Remembrancer for the key – that's Jerry. She said he would be expecting me and that it was more important than I could possibly realise. I was still half convinced it was some sort of delusion, but she was different, focused.
"I left her that afternoon only half convinced as to whether to follow it up. I was waiting on some interesting job offers and I wasn't sure I wanted to work in the Royal Courts. I waited a week before curiosity got the better of me and I rang the office and asked to speak to the Remembrancer. He invited me down to read the journal, and afterwards we talked. I've been with him ever since. "
"Did your colleague ever recover?"
"I used to visit her regularly. Once, on one of her better days, she was able to explain some of what had happened. But she never really recovered, no. "
"I'm sorry, Claire. Some of our kind can be touchy. "
"She was warned, as was I. The journals are quite clear on some things."
Listening to Claire, I realised the Seventh Court had made a mistake. It looked like they had eliminated the Queen's Remembrancer, hoping to further undermine the ceremony. They had it wrong, though. It was the clerk that was important, not the Remembrancer. "Tell us about the knife," Blackbird suggested.
"The Quick Knife? It was one of the two knives used for the Quit Rents Ceremony. The other is the Dead Knife, which is the other knife in the box. In 1933 the Quick Knife was dropped and it snapped in two. I can show you the entry in the journal. Everyone was very surprised when it broke and at the time it was taken as a bad omen. It was due to be used for the ceremony the next day and there was no time to make another. Luckily my predecessor had a friend with connections in the Tower of London and they arranged for another set of blades to be sent over. They're on permanent loan from the Royal Armouries and of a rather different style, but the ceremony carried on as before and the bad luck was averted. "
"Can we see them?" Blackbird asked.
"I don't see why not. Just a moment and I'll fetch them. They're in the safe." She rose again and stepped out, leaving the door ajar.
"Is it wise to get more knives? What if they're like that one?" I nodded towards the dark-wood box. Blackbird glanced at the knife box and shook her head. "Wait and see."
Claire returned with another bundle wrapped in black cloth. There was no sense of anything about it when she placed it on the table and unfolded it. Wrapped inside the cloth were two blades, or rather tools. One was a small neat hatchet and the other a kind of bill-hook with a broad flat blade. The blades were polished as if they were made of silver, or perhaps they were plated. They were clearly ceremonial. She looked at us. "May I?" I indicated the bill-hook. "Of course."
I picked the bill-hook up from the cloth, finding the oddly shaped blade lighter than it looked. I tested the edge with my thumb and it was sharp. The broad, flat blade reflected distorted scenes from the room. If it came from the Tower armouries, then it probably had a distinguished and honourable history.
"It's unusual enough, but it's totally different to the original Quick Knife. It's just a blade."
"We brought an expert from the armouries in to see if the Quick Knife could be mended, but apparently it is the wrong sort of metal."
"Or the right sort," Blackbird added. "It's very likely to be made of some sort of iron. If it were pure then that would make it brittle. That's why steel replaced iron as the metal of choice, it's much more resilient. What's the other knife in the case made of?"
"Some sort of alloy, definitely not iron. Would you like to see it?"
"Maybe later." Neither of us wanted her to open the box with the Quick Knife in it. "The broken knife is the key. Once the Quick Knife was broken, the ritual was weakened. Each time the ceremony is performed with the wrong knives, it weakens a little more." She glanced at me. "A worm at the heart of the ceremony, do you see?"
"There's nothing in the records saying that the ceremony must be conducted with a particular set of knives," Claire commented. "It just says that two knives must be presented, one blunt and one sharp, and must be tested for their qualities."
"I'm sure you've carried out the ceremony according to the instructions you were given," said Blackbird, "but that in itself is not enough for the ritual to have power. I'm sure now that the knife is the reason the barrier is weakening and also the reason why your Remembrancer is missing. You know he's not coming back, don't you? "
"He's not dead," said Claire.
"That may not be the worst of it," said Blackbird. "It is in all our best interests to make sure the ceremony goes ahead with a new knife, and soon."
"You want me to change the ritual, just because you say so?"
"No, I'm not telling you to change it. I'm saying you have to put it back to the way it was, the way it was meant to be. If we don't then the consequences may go far beyond the fate of one Remembrancer and his clerk."
"I don't know…"
"Claire, we stand on the edge of something terrible. The breaking of the Quick Knife has changed things, weakened them. If things break down completely then the incidents you refer to could be the very least of it. We need to get the knife repaired or remade."
"It can't be welded or fixed in that way. We tried. The only way is to get a new one made."
"Can you do that?"
"I can't, but perhaps you may be able to."
"Us? Neither of us want to get anywhere near it."
"It mentions in the journals, when the nails became too rusty to use. Two of your kind came and took them away and got them re-forged."
"That's very unlikely, Claire."
"Oh, I don't mean they did it themselves. I mean they took them to a smith and he did it for them. "
"Where would the Feyre get a smith from?"
"From the same place as always, the Highsmiths. "
"The high smiths?"
"The Highsmith family, the people who rent the Moors in Shropshire. They are the smiths to the Six Courts. Surely you know this?"
It was our turn to admit we didn't know all of it. "I guess you are not the only ones to lose things," Blackbird conceded.
Claire acknowledged this with a nod. It relieved some of her tension that she was not the only one fumbling in the dark.
"The Highsmiths were the family that produced the new set of nails. All except for the sixty-first one. "
"Why wasn't the sixty-first nail remade?"
"It didn't need to be. It's made of a different metal to the rest and it hadn't rusted. It's like the Dead Knife, rather than the dark metal of the others."
"I wondered about that when I read it in the leaflet," said Blackbird. "Ten nails for each horse-shoe and then another. I thought it must be a spare."
"No, the sixty-first nail is different from the rest, though I've no idea why. Shall I get it? It's in the safe with the others, ready for the ceremony next week. "
"We'd like to see it, thanks."
Blackbird and I waited, both wrapped in our own thoughts, while Claire retrieved the nails. They were in a velvet case, a little like that used for jewellery, which she unrolled across the table. Each bundle of nails had a pocket and it was immediately clear to Blackbird and I that the nails were iron, though thankfully they didn't have the noxious aura of the Quick Knife.
The last nail in the roll had a pocket of its own, though. Claire extracted it and held it up so I could see it, unsure of my reaction. It was the same size and shape as the other nails, a square section about two or three inches long, narrowing sharply along its length to a fine point. "Any ideas?" I asked Blackbird.
"No, I don't see why that one should be different from the others. It's not iron, or anything like it, is it? Is there nothing in the journals about it, Claire?" she asked. "Nothing obvious, no. The nails were taken back to the Highsmiths about a hundred and fifty years ago, but the sixty-first was returned with the rest, unchanged. "
"Well, the problem is with the knife, not the nails. Do you have an address for these Highsmiths? "
"I can get it for you."
She replaced the nail and rewrapped the bundle, taking them out again while Blackbird and I considered what we had learnt. For my part, the revelation that there had been regular, if infrequent, meetings between humanity and the Feyre was an eye-opener. It had never occurred to me that such things might be going on, but why would it? People didn't generally notice things they weren't looking for.
"Somebody knew this was going on," said Blackbird, her thoughts following the same lines as my own. "Claire obviously does, and presumably the Remembrancer, if he's alive?"
"No, I mean the Feyre. I'm beginning to see another hand in this."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember I said yesterday that I wasn't following you, but it wasn't random chance that put me there either?"
"Yes, you said it was fortune."
"I chose my words carefully. I really wasn't following you, but I was waiting for you."
"For me?"
"Not for you specifically, but for someone or something. Kareesh sent me a message, which she does from time to time when she an errand to run or maybe a message to be delivered. She said: 'Be at the southern end of the Leicester Square tube station platform at the morning peak on Thursday and make yourself useful.' She didn't tell me what to do or why, but that's pretty standard for her. I waited there to see what would happen.
"And then I collapsed down the stairs onto the platform."
"I was waiting on the other platform, but it didn't take me long to realise what was going on. "
"So did she mean for you to save me?"
"It's hard to tell with her. You, of all people, know what the visions are like. Did she know what would happen or did she just know I should be there? "
"As you say, it's hard to tell."
"But what if she did know? What if she knows what's going on better than we do?"
"Then why doesn't she just say?"
"I think they're ashamed, all of them."
"Ashamed of what?"
"Of doing dirty back-door deals with humanity. Of needing humans to make a barrier strong enough to hold back the Seventh Court. That's why there's no record, no stories. To keep the Seventh Court from stealing their babies and possessing their dead, they stooped low enough to strike a deal with humanity, and now they won't admit it."
"Why not? What's so terrible about wanting to protect your children?"
"The courts rule absolutely, Rabbit, but they rule by consent, not force. The Feyre agree to be bound to the courts for protection and survival. They agree to abide by court law for the good of all. But if someone like Marshdock was able to implicate the rulers of the courts in conspiring with humanity then it would show them up as weak, ineffectual and incapable of protecting anyone. The whole structure would be undermined. Knowledge like that could earn you a lifetime of favours, Rabbit. A Feyre lifetime, not a human one. If you were to share this with Marshdock, for instance, he could become very influential, able to grant favours to those he owed for his position and power. That makes such knowledge dangerous. Those in power would do almost anything to keep the information out of the hands of Marshdock and those like him. Eliminating a couple of half-breed Fey who were poking into things that were none of their business would be the least of it. When the stakes are that high there isn't much they wouldn't do."
"Nobody knows we know about it, though, do they?" I pointed out.
"Claire knows some of it, now. But she's in as much danger as we are."
"Then we have to make it clear to her that she's not to mention this to anyone."
"I don't think she would anyway. Secrecy is her default position."
"What about Kareesh?"
"She can't be certain and anyway, she started all this. I'm sure of it now. I'm just not sure what we're supposed to do about it."
"Can we leave it as it is, pretend we don't know?"
"And what about the consequences? What happens when the barrier falls and the Seventh Court come through to settle the score? And even if I choose to stand aside and let that happen, you can't. This is where your vision leads. You bargained for a gift, Rabbit. You gave her the stones and in return she showed you your future."
"There are many futures. You said so yourself."
"Yes, but in the one she showed you, you survive. You're able to see it because you survive. It wasn't some random sequence of images that she showed you. It was your own future. Who knows in how many other futures you are killed, or lost, or eaten. "
"Eaten?"
"I don't think the Shade outside your bedroom door wanted to tuck you up and read you a story. "
"So I have to carry on."
"You're taking a terrible risk if you don't."
"I'm taking a terrible risk if I do."
"But the vision tells us you survive."
"For now."
The discussion was put on hold as Claire returned with the address.
"This is where they lived about one hundred and fifty years ago." She offered Blackbird the slip of paper. "A hundred and fifty years is a long time. Do you think they'll still be there?" Blackbird handed me the address. It was a farm near a village called Eardington in Shropshire.
"They farm the land paid for by the Quit Rent. That's why they're there. They've been there since twelve hundred and something, so I doubt they will have moved. If anyone knows how to fix the knife, it will be them."
"We're grateful for your help, Claire, but you mustn't tell anyone we've discussed this. Your life may depend on it," I told her.
"What do I tell the police? They'll be here in half an hour." The nervous edge was back in Claire's voice. "Tell them about the calls. Tell them what you knew before we came, but don't mention anything about the Quit Rents ceremony unless they ask. As far as they're concerned it is just an official duty of the office. "
"And what about Jerry? "
"The Remembrancer?" She nodded.
"I'm sorry, Claire, but I think he's probably dead."
Her eyes filled and she turned away, fishing a rumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and removing her glasses to dab at her eyes. "We don't know," she said. "There's still hope."
"I suppose there is a chance that he's just delayed or something," Blackbird admitted, though the sour note in her voice told me she didn't believe this herself, "but you must prepare for the worst."
"I'll do what I must," she told us, replacing her glasses after her moment of weakness, squaring her shoulders. "The bad news is that if the Seventh Court find out it's you and not the Remembrancer that ensures the continuity of the ceremony-"
She folded her arms as if a chill had suddenly taken her, looking from Blackbird to me. "Then I'll be next."
Claire stood in the office, her arms held tightly around her. Despite her years of service, the reality of her role was only just hitting home. "We have to go, Claire," said Blackbird. "What can I do?" she asked.
"Maybe you could stay with some friends until this blows over?"
"I can't leave the office. What about the police? What about Jerry?"
"I don't think he's coming back," she suggested gently.
"What if they come here, after me?"
"Don't be here. They don't know you're involved and we won't tell them, but if they figure it out or if they get it from Jerry…"
"He wouldn't tell them."
"He may not have a choice. He won't be able to lie to them."
"I can't leave."
"There's no one to be clerk for, Claire. Either he comes back from wherever it is he's gone to or… "
"Or what?"
"Or he doesn't. You have to make sure the ceremony happens in either case. Otherwise things will get worse, not better."
"There are arrangements that will need to be made."
"Then make them. We'll be in touch when we know whether the knife can be fixed. In the meantime don't take strange phone calls and spend as little time alone as you can."
"I don't have anyone I can… That is…"
"Don't go where you're expected to go. Find some where else, someone else. Don't be alone."
"I don't have anyone…"
"Then find someone."
Blackbird's words came out harsh, but well meant. Claire's expression clearly said it wasn't as easy as Blackbird made it sound, but she simply nodded, accepting the principle.
"You need to take this with you." Claire retrieved the dark wooden box with the knives from the side table and passed it to Blackbird who accepted it reluctantly. "Take care of yourself," Blackbird advised, slipping the box into her shoulder bag and zipping the bag closed so it wouldn't fall out. "I'll try."
Blackbird ushered me through the outer office and into the corridor.
"Will she be OK?" I asked Blackbird.
She didn't answer my question, but marched ahead, out of Claire's earshot, leading the way down the steep stairway. She was down the steps and halfway across the entrance hall towards the exit before she spoke. "Claire will be fine until the Seventh Court work out it's the clerk that's keeping the ceremony going, at which point she won't be fine."
We pushed through the exit gate across from the security station and stepped back through the entrance into the afternoon sunlight.
"We need to get the knife fixed before they work it out," she said. "At the moment they think they've won.
They've eliminated the Remembrancer and they think the barrier is breaking down."
"It is breaking down."
"If the ceremony is performed successfully with the proper knives then it will reinforce the barrier. Meanwhile, the Council will realise that we know what they've done. "
"The Council?"
"The rulers of the courts form the High Council of the Feyre. It's where they resolve disputes between the courts and discuss issues that affect them all. It doesn't have any powers over the individual courts. But if they entered into an agreement with humanity then they did it together. No single court could speak for all of them."
"We still don't know for sure that's what they did. "
"Yes we do."
"We know they needed humanity to make the barrier, but we still don't know what the deal was, do we? Let's say humanity agreed to perform the ritual and carried it out for eight or nine hundred years. Why? What's in it for them? They don't even know the Feyre exist. Even Claire only knows part of it."
"That's the point, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"That's the deal. Don't you see?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's all around us. Humanity goes its own sweet way while the Feyre sit back and let them. That was the deal, coexistence in return for security, peace in return for maintaining the barrier. "
"You're guessing."
"Only partly. I've sat and listened to Kareesh's tales of how it was before. I know that when they first encountered humans, the Feyre made sure they knew whose land they were in. They hunted them, kidnapped their children, terrified them and murdered them in their beds. By the time the Feyre had finished with them they were literally afraid of the dark. Something changed, though. I always thought it was because there were so many humans and the Feyre were dwindling. No matter how many humans the Feyre scared off there were always more. Now I know different. This is what changed. They made a deal and they will know we have found them out. They won't like that. We could make some very powerful enemies. "
"But if we don't fix the knife-"
"Then the barrier will fall. The Seventh Court will break through and Raffmir's sister will get her wish. "
"So we have to fix it. If we don't fix it then the Untainted will come for everyone; us, my daughter, my wife. "
"Ex-wife," she reminded me.
"We can't let that happen, even if it means the Council turning against us. Kareesh said that if I found the thing that was lost then I would have a place in the courts, didn't she?"
"Something like that."
"That's what she said," I protested.
"She said it was the sight of something to secure your place in the courts. She didn't say you'd live to enjoy it."
"It's a better option than the certain knowledge of what the Seventh Court will do if the barrier falls. "
"Perhaps."
"Who knows, maybe the Council will be grateful and reward us?"
"I can tell that you've never had any dealings with the courts."
That was true, but I knew from corporate experience that the gratitude of those further up the hierarchy was unreliable at best.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I guess not," she sighed.
"Then we have to figure out where we can hire a car. "
"A car? What do you want a car for?"
"To get to Shropshire. It's two hundred miles, near enough. How did you think we were going to get there? I don't think the Underground goes as far as Shrewsbury."
My sarcasm bounced off her. "I thought we would walk," she said.
"Walk? If we walk, the ceremony will have been and gone by the time we get back. "
"That depends on which way we walk."
She led the way down the Strand onto Fleet Street. I caught up and walked alongside her.
"You're remarkably sanguine about this for someone who has just decided to take on the Untainted and the High Court."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
She carried on walking while she thought about it.
"I'm far older than you," she said.
"What's that got to do with it?"
"I've seen a lot of Fey; when they get older they become withdrawn. They hide themselves away from harm. They hold their lives closed so they won't die, horde them like treasure. "
"And?"
"And they atrophy. They're still living but they might as well be dead for the all the difference it makes. I don't want to end up like that. I want to live before I die. "
"So you'll spit in the eye of fate and see what happens."
"Maybe not spit, but I won't hide when fate intervenes. We were meant to discover this. They've been hiding it for centuries and now it's breaking down. If we hadn't discovered it then the barrier would fail and it would all go sour. Now we have a chance to fix it. "
"And the consequences?"
"Let fate decide the consequences." She lifted her chin, determined.
"Fate isn't always kind, even to those she favours."
"That's true where I come from too. You see? We do have something in common."
As we walked down Fleet Street she appeared to be looking for something.
"So we walk to Shropshire?"
She gave me one of those cryptic smiles that meant she knew something I didn't, and she wasn't going to tell me what it was.
"A car is basically a metal box on wheels. You're not going to be comfortable sitting for hours in a steel box, are you?" She strolled along the pavement and then surprised me by stepping into a bookshop.
I followed her in. It was full of legal and history books, serving the local concentration of lawyers. The only fiction volumes were hardback best sellers, displayed on a stand by the door. Blackbird ignored these and went to the back of the shop where there was a display of maps. "Ordnance Survey maps," she announced. "Perfect." She began selecting maps and consulting the backs until she found the one she wanted. She fanned it out in front of her, resting it precariously on the shelf, and then took out the slip of paper Claire had given her and consulted the map with it.
"It should be here somewhere." Her finger circled the map around the area to the south of Bridgnorth. The land on the map had been shaped by the same industry that had marked my own home county of Kent. I could see the places where the streams had been diverted, dammed and sluiced to power water wheels and where woods had been coppiced to provide charcoal for the furnaces. Iron making was engraved into the landscape like a signature. In the past, this wouldn't have bothered me, but now I wondered how I would react to the presence of all that iron. I rubbed the sore patch on my hand, conscious of the after-effects of my encounter with the iron gates at Australia House. "There's the village." I pointed out the location on the map. "It can't be far from there."
"It looks like the right sort of place to find a family of smiths," she grinned.
She refolded the map and went to the counter to pay for it. I waited at the door and then we walked back along the way we had come, towards the Strand. "Are you serious about walking to Shropshire?"
"Yes," she said. "And no." That teasing smile was back again.
We walked back past the Royal Courts of Justice and she led the way to the other side of the road and over to the church across the square from Australia House. We approached the door and she held up her hand. "Wait a second. There's somebody in the hallway. We don't particularly want to be observed entering. "
"Blackbird, we have a long way to travel, by whatever means. Now is not the time to be visiting churches. "
"We need to visit this one."
We pushed through the glass-panelled door into a dim hallway before the main body of the church. I could hear someone in the open space beyond, moving what sounded like a heavy piece of furniture. We walked quickly around to the right, down a curving staircase and under an arch down into the crypt. You could hear the bass rumble of the traffic flowing around the church to either side.
The crypt was well lit around the white-plastered walls between the pillars. Gravestones and memorials were set into the plaster. The room was familiar to me, even though I had never visited the church before. The way the pews were arranged in ranks, the placement of the altar, even the arrangement of flowers. I had seen it before.
"This place was in my vision." I turned slowly around, trying to fit my visual perspective to the one in my head. "And I was over there." I pointed to the centre of the crypt and then walked over to a spot between the rows of wooden seats. "You're sure?"
"I think so." I looked around, slightly disoriented by trying to overlay the fragments from the vision onto the reality, shifting position and feeling my balance return as the mental image and the visual image came into line. "Can you feel it?" she asked. "Feel what? "
"Listen."
I listened and heard the grumble of the traffic and the faint sounds of someone moving furniture upstairs. "What am I listening for?"
"Under it all. Below sound, below hearing."
"How can I hear something below hearing? "
"You can't, so try."
I stopped and listened, standing between the rows of wooden chairs on the stone floor, and sure enough, there was something. When you subtracted the noise of the traffic and the hubbub of humanity, there was another sound that hummed beneath it. I cocked my head and it became more distinct. "What is it? "
"You hear it now? "
"A sort of low rumble. What is it?"
"It's one of the Ways. It runs right under here. In fact it is why 'here' is here."
"A Way?"
"It's like a line of energy under the earth connecting places together."
"Like a ley line?"
"Ley lines are similar, but they're mixed up with other things like old roads and green lanes. But you know where there are Ways because you can feel them. "
"Like here. "
"Yes, like here. Do you trust me?"
Her question caught me out. It must have showed on my face because her eyes registered the doubt in mine. The truth was she had too many secrets.
"Do you trust me to show you something? Here and now."
"Yes."
Her hesitant smile acknowledged the gap between hope and expectation. Was my trust important to her? It shamed me, after all we had been through, that I was unable to offer my complete trust. Then again, she made it clear on a number of occasions that she had her own priorities and I had no idea how far they would press her. I wasn't ready to offer unqualified trust. She walked around behind me, holding my shoulder to gently prevent me from turning with her. "I'm going to ask you to follow my instructions. Where we're going I won't get chance to explain, so I want you to just do it and I'll explain afterwards, OK? "
"Why can't you explain now?"
"It'll make much more sense afterwards."
"So I have to trust you."
"Yes."
"You could just tell me."
"I could, but you've already found several disadvan tages to being Fey. This is one of the advantages."
"Are you sure I'm going to like it?"
"Trust me," she whispered.
It was hard after the day I'd had. She hadn't led me wrong though. Perhaps I could trust her for this one thing.
She stood behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders, orientating me gently until I was facing the side wall of the underground chapel.
"After the first step, I want you to step aside and take a deep breath to steady yourself and then, when I step in after you, I want you to step back on the line of the Way and step again, straight away, understand. Don't say anything and try not to make a noise, OK? "
"What do you mean, steady myself?"
"You'll understand after the first step, I promise."
"Off the line and on again, don't make a noise. Got it." It was simple enough, but she was making a big deal about it.
"Remember what I said." She squeezed my shoulder and I nodded again. "Now, close your eyes." I did as she asked, conscious of the pressure of her fingers on my shoulder.
"You remember how it was with the mirror in Claire's office, how you connected with it, called to it? "
"Yes."
"Feel below your feet. Feel the flow of energy there." I reached down to the low vibration under the floor and tentatively felt towards it. Whereas the mirror had been still, like a windless pool, this was a torrent. It raged and crashed beneath our feet, surging along. I swayed slightly, unbalanced by its momentum. "Steady. You're just trying to create a connection with it, not to hold it. Just recognise it. Say 'Hello' to it, acknowledge its power and accept it. "
"It's very strong."
"Don't try and fight it, you'll lose. Just connect with it and let yourself be known."
I reached out into the torrent as you might dangle your hand into the water from a speedboat, feeling the buffeting from it and knowing its power.
"Now make a connection with it and take a step forwards, I'm right behind you."
"But-"
"I'm right behind you. Remember what I said."
Tentatively, I reached to the darkness inside. It was eager to connect with the torrent below. I showed it what I wanted and the darkness snaked down, faster than I had anticipated. I felt the torrent rise beneath me. I took a step forward and it crested up under me and surged, carrying me off with it while I screamed and yelled at the joy of it, forgetting everything she'd said about being quiet. It was like surfing and skydiving rolled into one.
My foot hit the floor and I stopped, staggering forward slightly. The echoes of my yell died around me. I opened my eyes and it was dark. I could still feel the river of power beneath me. I remembered Blackbird's instructions and stepped off the line just in time. A breeze turned out of nowhere and she melted into existence beside me.
"That was fantastic! Where are we?" I was excited and elated by it.
"Shhh." She pressed her hand over my mouth. "Hush."
Light spilled downwards, revealing a cellar space with a staircase leading upwards in front of us, the light spilling down the steps from a door opened above. "Is there someone there?"
The voice had a querulous quality to it that led me to think it hoped that there wasn't. A light bulb clicked on to my right.
She whispered almost soundlessly, "Quick, before they get down here."
She pressed me to the line again and I stepped onto it, ready this time for the rush. The Way answered with enthusiasm and I was swept up on a tidal wave of power. I opened my eyes this time and I could see the sparkles and whirls of it, turning and running. I realised that unlike a river it didn't flow in one direction, but in all directions. My step landed and I was somewhere else. I stepped off the line, further into the dusty shadows lined by the streaks of light, and Blackbird emerged after me, stepping from the breeze that whirled the dust up to streak the darkness with lines from above. I grinned at her in the dark.
"This time you follow me. There's more than one Way from here so I'll go first."
"How do you know which is the right Way?"
"I'm just choosing a direction, initially from the orientation of the church, and then after that it's all down to feel."
I watched as she stepped onto the line. A breeze sprang into life, swirling the dust up into the slivers of light from above and she was swept away. I stepped onto the line after her. I could feel the path of her presence, like a bed still warm.
I reached down into the stream of energy beneath me and welcomed it as it welled up underneath, carrying me into the depths across an emptiness filled with ribbons of light and dark, whorled and streaked, echoing with disembodied voices.