"We've got to do something!" I paced up and down in front of Blackbird. "They're going to kill her."
"They'll have to find her first," said Blackbird, reasonably.
"They've already found them once. How long before they give themselves away? This time they won't give them chance to draw breath. They'll just kill them all and have done with it, Alex included."
"I thought Alex didn't do anything?"
"She didn't. It's guilt by association. And when I said that to Garvin, he said that she didn't lift a finger to help them either."
"That's no reason to kill someone."
"That's what I said, but you know what Garvin's like."
"Indeed I do," she remarked, "he thinks he's judge, jury and high executioner, and unfortunately he's not disabused of that by the High Court."
"I have to try and find her." I said. I found myself dry-washing my hands, and stuck them in my pockets to stop myself.
"Where would you start? You've been looking for her for days and you haven't found her yet. For that matter, how did Fellstamp and Fionh find them?"
"They were tipped off. Apparently the building where they were squatting is part of a territory given to one of the fey in Teoth's Court. They were spotted entering and leaving and a complaint was raised with the courts. Garvin realised who it was that was disregarding territorial boundaries…"
"…and sent Fionh and Fellstamp in heavy-handed," Blackbird finished.
"Apparently Fellstamp took one of them hostage — sounds like he picked the wrong one."
"And that worked out well, didn't it?" she said. "How is he?"
"His condition hasn't changed. Half the female stewards are walking around as if they're in mourning, and the other half are looking as if they've had a lucky escape."
"He's such a rogue."
"You're smiling. Don't tell me you're smitten too?"
"You have to admit, he is very charming," said Blackbird, off-handedly.
"Not at the moment, he's not."
"He'll come around, you'll see." She could see I was worried about him.
"I hope so. I don't know what Garvin will do if he doesn't pull through. He's very protective of his people."
"Apart from you," she said.
"The same with me. Up to a point."
"Quite."
"I only seem to cause him trouble," I admitted.
"And that's your fault, is it? You do this deliberately?"
"Of course not."
"Then he can hardly punish you for it, can he?" she said.
"It's not me he's punishing."
"Isn't it? He must know how you feel about them going after Alex. She is your daughter."
"He knows, but it doesn't change anything. He says she's brought it on herself."
"The excuse of the despot throughout history — they brought it on themselves; they forced my hand; they made me do it."
"I have to find her," I repeated.
"Perhaps there is a way. You said that this girl had a silver arrow with her?"
"Yes, and a book."
"Then it's time we went to see Gregor again. We know they have a key and a feather. Perhaps he can shed some light on what they're doing, and from that we might be able to figure out where they are before Garvin does."
Alex was backed against the wall in the alley. "I didn't tell them anything, I swear." She looked from Eve, to Sparky, to Chipper, and back to Eve. "You can tell I'm not lying, dammit!"
Sparky rubbed his neck thoughtfully. "They found us somehow, didn't they? And I damned near got my throat slit."
Alex folded her arms. "So you automatically blame me."
"You knew them," said Eve. "None of the rest of us knew them."
"They're Warders, I told you. Everyone at the courts knows them, at least by reputation," said Alex.
"But you know them personally," said Eve.
"My dad works with them. He's sort of in the same bit of the courts. They all work for Garvin."
"And what does Garvin do?"
"Garvin's freaky. He's not quite right up here." Alex tapped her temple. "He makes my flesh crawl."
"But what does he do?" asked Eve.
"I told you, he leads the Warders, and they do the bidding of the courts. It's all about who's top dog and who's allied to whoever. The Lords and Ladies have absolute power, and what they say goes, but they don't necessarily agree with each other. When I went to see Kimlesh, she told me that I could join the Nymphine Court, but that meant accepting the rules and abiding by her rulings, and in return, she'll defend me from the others."
"So she decides where you live and what you do?" asked Eve.
"No, not exactly. You can live wherever you like, but if you get into a dispute with another fey, maybe you take something that belongs to someone, then the court will rule. Maybe you get to keep it, or maybe you give it back. It stops them killing each other."
"And all of them are members?" asked Eve.
"Pretty much. Except for us. They don't really know what to do with us. We're not human and we're not fey. There's a big debate over whether half-breeds should be able to join."
"But Kimlesh offered to let you join her court?" said Sparky.
"The Nymphine court is the only one I can join because my elements are water and air. Kimlesh wants the half-breeds to join the courts. It's her choice who joins and who doesn't, so if I join, it tips the balance, see? She gets what she wants. But the others, Teoth, Krane, some of the others, they're not opening up. If I joined, it could force their hand, and they won't like that."
"So you ran away," said Eve.
"I was leaving anyway," said Alex.
"And they're following you because they want you to join, or because they don't?" asked Eve.
"Both, I guess. Kimlesh says I can join because there's a precedent. Yonna admitted Blackbird to the court of Fey'ree years ago, so it's been done before. There were others, but most of them died when the Seventh Court betrayed the courts and killed all the half-breeds they could find. There are supposed to be a few of the older ones dotted about, but most of them are in hiding."
"So they're killing the half-breeds, even the ones that are part of the courts?" said Eve.
"That's the Seventh Court, the Wraithkin. They're different. They don't like any of the half-breeds. They don't think we should exist."
"But the Seventh Court are part of the courts?"
"Yeah," said Alex, "I guess. They're the seventh one."
"I still don't get how they found us," said Sparky.
"They found us because they're hunting us," said Eve. "And if they catch us, they'll kill us."
"I don't think Fellstamp would have hurt you," said Alex. "He's not like that really. He was just trying to take control."
"They'll kill us when they find us," said Eve, "or they'll take us back to their courts and kill us there — if the Seventh Court don't kill us first."
"It's not that clear cut," said Alex.
"No," said Eve. "But it's what will happen. Whether it's an accident or on purpose, the outcome is the same. We can't afford for them to find us again. Take off your clothes."
"My what?" said Alex.
"Your clothes. Take them off," said Eve. Chipper smiled slightly. Sparky openly grinned.
"No! I'm not stripping for you or anyone else."
"They found you somehow, Alex. They did it once so they can do it again. They could be tracking you through your clothes, your jewellery, anything. You have to get rid of them."
"I stole my clothes," said Alex. "Even my underwear is new."
"Do you have anything from you past life?" asked Eve.
"No," said Alex, putting her hand behind her back.
They all heard the lie.
"Give it to me," said Eve.
"It's nothing. It's such a small thing. They can't be tracking me with that."
"Give." Eve held her hand out.
Alex shook her head, but Eve moved in swiftly, grabbing her hair and her arm, twisting her around and pressing her against the wall.
"No! You can't have it! It's mine!"
Alex balled her fist so that the ring was tight on her finger, but Eve twisted it behind her, pushing her into the wall and prying her fingers apart. The ring was stripped from Alex's finger.
Alex screamed, "No! No! No! No!" She twisted and fought to get free.
Eve tossed the ring to Chipper. "Stamp on it."
Chipper caught it and put it carefully on the floor, resting it under his trainer and then leaned his weight on it, while Alex screamed in Eve's grip. The ring twisted and bent, then folded in half. He stomped on it twice for good measure, breaking it into two pieces. He picked up the pieces and threw them down the alley.
Alex sobbed, taking great gulps of air and wailing.
"Grow up, little girl," said Eve. "You have no family but us. You have no friends but us. We are everything you have and don't you forget it. When we change the world none of this will matter. Then you'll thank me."
Eve let her go and Alex stumbled away, screaming abuse at those behind her, but knowing in her heart that she had nowhere else to go.
• • • •
"A library? Why does he want to meet in a library?" I asked Blackbird. "What's he going to do, stick a pin in an atlas? Borrow the Observer Book of Strange Rituals?"
"It's not the sort of library that lends books."
We were walking down Euston Road, the constant roar of motorbikes and the growl of taxis and buses almost drowning out our words as the traffic stop-started its way along one of London's busiest thoroughfares.
"What's the point of a library that doesn't lend books?" I asked.
"It's a hidden library," said Blackbird, "and it has a copy of almost every book that's ever been published, including some extremely rare volumes. When I spoke to Gregor on the phone he said to meet him here. He has a reader's ticket."
"You need a ticket to read books?"
"You do when they're as rare as these."
We turned through huge iron gates that sang with a discordant note that made me pass as far from each of them as I could. Blackbird ignored them and we walked through to a huge courtyard in front of a monolithic block building that looked like a modernised version of a 1930s movie set. A huge clock adorned the frontage.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"The British Library," said Blackbird, "or at least the bit you can see."
"Where's the rest of it?" I asked.
"You're standing on it."
I looked at the paving that stretched away around the building. "Below this is just books?"
"Not just books, no. Manuscripts, maps, documents, scrolls. This is a palace dedicated to the written word. Beneath our feet are rows and rows of shelves, and beneath that, the same, and below that more and so on, downwards. You should come and walk around the galleries one day. The public exhibits are worth seeing."
"Let's find Gregor and see what he wants to show us," I said.
He was waiting for us on the upper floor, where he rushed over to greet us as we stepped off the escalator.
"Veronica, it is simply wonderful to see you again. Is it not a truly marvellous building; such architecture, such vision."
He gestured around us, then grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically. "You must be so proud to be a part of a nation that builds such wonders, yes?"
"I suppose?" I said.
"Ah, always the citizens do not see the wonders around them. You take them for granted until they are taken from you. Only then do you discover what you have lost." His moustache wobbled from side to side in disapproval.
"And what have we lost?" asked Blackbird.
"Come," he said. "I wish you meet Julian. He will tell you the story, just as he told it to me."
He asked each of us to wear yellow Visitor badges and then led the way through to the back of the building, through a door into offices away from the public space. We got a few suspicious glances, but Gregor flashed an orange badge at them and we were allowed to pass. We came to a small office. Inside a thin man in a grey shirt with a black tie looked up at our approach.
"Julian, this is Veronica and her friend, Niall. They are interested in the book I asked you about."
"We are?" I said.
"I am," said Blackbird, extending her hand. "Veronica Delemere, formerly in Medieval History at Birkbeck."
He took the outstretched hand and smiled. "I think we have one or two of your books here, Dr. Delemere."
"Really? How charming," she said. They all smiled, ignoring me. I was just a friend, apparently, and not worthy of attention.
"The book, Julian. Tell them," said Gregor.
He looked up at Gregor. "Ah yes. Well, a bit of an embarrassment, really. We're not used to this kind of thing."
"What kind of thing?" asked Blackbird.
"It seems that someone has borrowed it," he explained.
"You see," I said. "They do lend books out."
"What Julian is saying," said Gregor, "is that the book has been stolen."
"Is that possible?" asked Blackbird.
"Ordinarily, no," Julian confirmed. "We have inserts in every book that will set off detectors at any exit. You can't even walk out with one by accident. In addition, the staff are spot-checked randomly to discourage anyone with ideas of taking anything; a necessary evil."
"That seems a lot of security for a load of old books," I said.
He glanced at Blackbird and Gregor. "You have no idea. We have the first draft manuscript of Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles here. There are copies here of the Lindisfarne Gospels."
"If they're only copies then surely they are not worth much?" I knew I was flaunting my ignorance, but the snooty attitude was annoying. I wanted to rattle his cage a little and butt into the conversation.
"Well, if you consider that they were copied by hand in the year 687, you might revise your opinion," he said.
"How much?" I asked, rubbing my finger and thumb together.
"Priceless," Gregor said, "and completely irreplaceable."
"Priceless generally has a price, though, doesn't it?"
"They are not for sale," said Julian, "but a stolen copy would be worth millions to a private collector. Of course, when such a work is so readily identifiable, the collector could never show it to anyone, but then such people rarely have any interest in other people. And that's just one work. The library has many such items."
"So your security is set up accordingly?" I asked.
"There have been attempted thefts before," said Gregor, "and though some have escaped with their liberty, they have left empty-handed."
"Not this time, though," said Julian, "though the work that's missing isn't one of the high security items. It was kept in the general vault, though even that's not exactly accessible."
"What is it?" asked Blackbird.
"An oddity," Julian remarked. "Unique in that it was annotated, but we have other copies."
He opened his desk drawer and extracted a bundle wrapped in black fabric. Pulling on a set of white cotton gloves he unfolded the cloth, revealing a brown leather book. The cover was plain brown leather, unadorned, burnished through handling. I was momentarily filled with the desire to ask Julian to wrap it up and put it away again. It was an odd sensation, as if there was something in the book that should not be revealed. I shook myself.
"Ah, you feel it too?" said Gregor, "Good, you are sensitive for a philistine."
"Who are you calling a philistine?" I challenged.
"A man who asks the price of a hand-copied Gospel?"
"Hmm, fair cop," I said. "What's the book about?"
"It is a journal, of sorts," said Gregor. "I read it many years ago, but then I received Veronica's call on the telephone and she is telling me that your thieves have stolen a silver arrow along with the other things, yes?"
"We think so," I agreed.
"This is the journal of Aleister Crowley, or a copy of a copy, in fact. I read it many years ago, but the mention of the arrow along with the other things set me thinking and I came to the library to consult the work directly."
Julian explained. "When we went to retrieve the book concerned it had gone. There's no record of it being taken out recently, and no movement record indicating it had been archived or moved to secure storage."
"Perhaps it has simply been misfiled?" Blackbird asked him.
"You don't understand," said Julian. "Each shelf contains many thousands of books. We can't possibly manage them all manually. There is a robotic system which tracks along the shelves, registering the tags for the books. Essentially, the system registers all the books before we hand any out, and then registers them all back in again. We would know if one was not returned, and if it was misfiled it would show up somewhere else and the system would throw up an alert that tells us where it is and where it should be."
"So how did it leave the library?" she asked.
In response, he opened the drawer and placed a page on the desk. "This was left in place."
"It's the tag?" I asked.
He nodded. "Someone has removed it from the book, which probably means they damaged it to take it out." He made it sound like an accusation of rape.
"So someone did take it," said Blackbird.
"Someone who got past the security staff, opened the door to the vault, found the book amid the myriad of other works stored down there, took out the tag and then left, also without setting of an alarm or leaving any trace," said Julian. "The management are convinced it's an inside job and anyone in the vault that day is under investigation. Thankfully I was off sick that day or the investigation would have included me."
"Unless that was a useful alibi?" I suggested.
He scowled at me. "Don't make suggestions like that around here. It isn't funny any more."
"Sorry," I said.
"Show them the diagram," said Gregor. "This is what I brought you here to see until we encountered this… setback."
Julian carefully opened the book at a bookmark. "Bear in mind that this is a copy. There were several made and this is one of the less valuable ones because it has some variations that were not in the original but have been added by the copyist as their own contribution, though that in itself makes it interesting."
He opened the book at a page with a diagram that was overlaid on a complex geometric pattern covered in the sort of symbols that I'd last seen on Gregor's wave energy demonstrator. Around it were six symbols, and in the centre a seventh. I recognised them immediately from Angela's vision, but was careful not to react in case they thought it was me who had somehow stolen the book.
"What are these symbols?" I asked, expecting Gregor to answer.
Instead, Julian spoke. "They are an arcane notation used by members of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn — for them it was a kind of shorthand for universal forces, or mystical invocation."
"The order of what?" I asked. "Hang on, I've come across that name before." I racked my brain trying to think of where I had seen it. The only thing I could think of was the library at the courts which was full of all manner of strange books.
"They are a group of people dedicated to acquiring knowledge of the universe through arcane means," said Julian. "They've been around for along time. Aleister Crowley was a member, as was Alfred Watkins whose book The Old Straight Track started the nonsense about ley lines."
"They're just called leys," said Blackbird, "not ley lines, and Watkins didn't invent them. He just pointed out that some things were remarkably well-aligned."
"Don't tell me you're a believer," said Julian.
"Like Gregor, I have an interest in all manner of things," she said, "but no, I don't believe in ley lines."
I glanced at her and there was the tiniest smile on her lips.
"So what do the symbols mean?" I asked.
"Gregor thinks…" Julian started, but then ceded to Gregor to explain.
"Like many symbols they represent different things on different levels, but they are all symbols of opening, one way or another. At the same time they can also represent physical objects, talismans or tokens."
"Like what?" I asked.
"These symbols on the left could be said to be a sceptre, a key and a feather, while these on the right could be represented by a cross, an arrow and a scourge."
"I don't understand," I said. "What language is this?"
"My dear friend," said Gregor, "language is the wrong word. It is an interpretation of a symbol written in a codex that has no words. Would you speak mathematical symbols? Or musical ones? This is not a translation, it is an interpretation, but given what you have told me…"
I looked at Blackbird.
"You said they were symbols of opening," she said to Gregor.
"Indeed," said Gregor, "and interesting for that alone. The sceptre is the symbol for the opening of the mind, the key is for revealing secrets. The feather is a symbol of opening of the heart, while the cross is an opening of the spirit."
"The cross is a Christian symbol," I pointed out.
"The cross was adopted by Christianity because of the crucifixion, party because of this connotation, but this predates Christian symbology," said Gregor.
"It's a symbol of a cross," pointed out Blackbird. "Rather than a representation. They're not going to be crucifying anyone." Then she looked at Gregor. "Are they?"
"Unlikely. As you say, it is symbolic. The arrow will not be shot by a bow, the scourge will not be used to whip anyone. They are tokens."
"What do they mean?" I asked.
"The scourge is symbolic of self-flagellation like the monks of old, and symbolises opening the body, while the arrow is symbolic of opening distance, or space. All together they are a powerful configuration of opening and would represent a key of significant power."
"Like the key that was stolen?" I asked.
"What key?" asked Julian. He was ignored by all of us.
"No," said Gregor. "That key is only a component of a larger key comprising all the components, which would be used to open something else."
"What?" said Blackbird.
Gregor smiled apologetically. "I can't tell you that. The four lobes of this central symbol indicate something, but it is not part of the symbology around it." He indicated the central symbol which expended in four rounded lobes from a central point.
"Then we are no better off," I said.
"Oh, we are," said Gregor, "because while I can't tell you what, I can tell you where."
"You can?" said Blackbird.
"Oh yes." Gregor grinned. "Show them Julian."
Julian turned the pages to reveal an engraving of a church.
"There," said Gregor.
"Where is it?" said Blackbird.
"It is a church in Herefordshire."
"A church," I said. "Then it is connected with Christianity."
"Not everything done in the name of the church is religious. They had immense wealth and significant power. The nature of this could as easily be secular as sacred," Gregor pointed out. "This was built by the Normans in the twelfth century, along with adjacent fortifications. It predates Crowley and the Hermetic Order by several centuries."
I looked at Blackbird. She was obviously thinking the same thing. If this was twelfth century and post Norman invasion then it would have been from around the same time as the Quit Rents Ceremony.
"Very well," said Blackbird. "Where is it?"
"I will come with you, of course," Gregor said.
Blackbird and I looked at each other. If we went without Gregor we could use the Ways and be there in minutes. If we went with Gregor it would take much longer.
"What?" he said. "I am as curious about this as you. Do I not deserve to share the discovery? Have I not given you the vital clue to unlocking the mystery?"
"It's not as simple as…" said Blackbird.
"Simple? This is simple. He closed the book in Julian's hands and wrapped it back into the black cover, giving it back to Julian. "Replace this copy in your vault, my friend. There is one fewer now, so this one is even more precious. Do not let it stray."
We watched as Julian replaced the book in his drawer and locked it.
Gregor broke into a huge grin. "Now, when are we setting off?"