When she saw the deep cracks in the transparent floor above boiling lava, and the stalagmites that threatened to pierce anyone who fell, instinct bade Rhoslyn spur Talog to leap forward. Instead she tightened her hands on Talog's reins. Rhoslyn knew stalagmites could not exist in boiling lava; nonetheless she did not desire to fall on one. Still, since Vidal had doubtless created the lava and the stalagmites to drive arrivals out of the Gate, caution bade Rhoslyn hold the reins steady while she looked ahead.
The path from the Gate had changed also. Where there had been one broad way, lined by writhing carnivorous plants that threatened to reach out and catch anyone going past them, but safe enough if traveled carefully, there were now three paths, all very innocent-looking gravel.
Rhoslyn promptly thrust a spear of force at the central way, which looked as if it went directly to the palace. Black ooze bubbled up through the gravel. A second thrust of force at the right-hand path went right through; there was no path, only illusion over nothing. The thrust at the left-hand path resulted in a burst of counterforce that could have torn Talog and herself apart.
There was no safe path.
Rhoslyn drew a breath, preparing to command the Gate to take her back to the vale of the empty house. It was too late. Talog hissed horribly and leapt forward as the floor of the Gate began to open along one of the cracks.
The not-horse landed with a loud squelch in the center path. Stinking black liquid fountained up as the creature's clawed feet struck the path, liberally spattering mount and rider. To Rhoslyn's surprise, aside from the fetid odor, it did no harm.
Rhoslyn muttered a few choice expletives over Vidal's sense of humor. Few of the Dark Court would believe the most direct path was essentially the safest; most would fall afoul of the traps to left and right. Rhoslyn now assumed the traps were not fatal, because presumably Vidal would not wish to deplete his court by killing too many of his followers . . . but with Vidal, one could never tell. However, the not-horse seemed quite satisfied with the footing and was already trotting forward. A dozen strides took them past the black ooze.
A spell to clean herself and Talog was Rhoslyn's immediate concern. For a moment she curbed that impulse, realizing that use of magic could alert Vidal to her arrival. She did not wish to see Vidal and possibly remind him about Elizabeth. After all, she had come to see Aurelia, not Vidal. Then she shrugged. The lances of force she had used to test the path had doubtless already betrayed her, and she liked being stained with the fetid sludge even less than she liked finding some excuse for her presence to Vidal. A firm thought and a gesture removed all evidence of the filth, and she rode on toward Vidal's palace, resigned to the idea that Vidal would be waiting for her when she arrived—or, at the least, would send someone to meet her to deliver orders to attend upon him.
Even so, the newt-servants who came to take Talog had no message for her, nor did any Sidhe come hurrying from the palace to intercept her. Rhoslyn breathed a sigh of relief. Either Vidal was not in Caer Mordwyn, or he did not wish to see her. Either possibility was equally satisfactory to Rhoslyn, who hurried up the black marble stairs toward the doors.
Preoccupied with what she intended to say to Aurelia, Rhoslyn slipped through the magically opened door and negotiated the minor traps in the corridors and stairway without really noticing them. At the head of the stair the same half-drugged Sidhe as always was on guard; this time he did not argue when Rhoslyn sent him to inform Aurelia of her arrival. Rhoslyn wondered whether he was so drug-addicted that he no longer possessed a will of his own, but he carried the message correctly. The Sidhe brought Aurelia's invitation to enter as he came out.
"Well? Is Elizabeth free for our taking?" Aurelia asked with a show of impatience, before Rhoslyn had properly shut the door.
Rhoslyn turned and bowed slightly. The Roman couch on which Aurelia had reclined the last time Rhoslyn had seen her was gone. Now she sat in a cushioned chair drawn up to an elegant gilded desk on which lay an open book. From the way the pages writhed and flickered when Rhoslyn glanced at them, she was sure the book was a grimoire sealed to Aurelia. Beside the book was the ubiquitous glass of cloudy bluish liquid, but it was full.
Aurelia's direct question left no room for prevarication. Rhoslyn sighed. "Unfortunately Elizabeth is still beyond our touch, even though the boy I set to watch her did catch her in a serious indiscretion. She went out near midnight and apparently flung herself into the arms of a man."
Aurelia's lips thinned. "And the king tolerated such behavior?"
"He never learned of it." Rhoslyn sighed again and told Aurelia what had taken place in the garden from the time Stafford had seen Elizabeth run into a man's arms to the glimpse Mary had had of a man she knew to be long dead.
"Only Stafford saw the man Elizabeth ran to meet, and only Mary caught one glimpse of the man she believes Elizabeth conjured from the dead and who disappeared before her eyes," Rhoslyn admitted, with a grimace. "The guard at the gate—and all agree that he was standing right there, upright and alert—swore that no one had entered the garden or left it. Mary's gentlemen searched the whole place most thoroughly and could find no one but Elizabeth and her maid, and the maid explained everything Stafford and Mary thought they saw, insisting they had mistaken her for the man."
"The maid," Aurelia repeated darkly, as she turned fully to face Rhoslyn and raised a hand to rub her forehead. "I would know more about this mortal. Is this the same maid who has been with Elizabeth since her birth? The maid who wears a necklace of black iron crosses?"
"Yes, I believe it is the same maid," Rhoslyn said, rather surprised at how easily Aurelia had been distracted from the target of Elizabeth.
Aurelia reached out and took a sip from the glass on the desk, stared into it for a moment, then set it aside.
The gaze she now turned on Rhoslyn was penetrating—and fierce. "The maid is a commoner with no important connections except Elizabeth herself—true?"
"Yes." Rhoslyn was still puzzled.
Aurelia smiled smugly. "And it is by the maid's word and by her clever explanations that the mistake Elizabeth made was kept from her father?"
"Ah." It appeared that Aurelia's mind was not wandering from the subject of Elizabeth, after all. Rhoslyn nodded, also smiling, pleased to have found something that was a lawful target for Aurelia's obsession. And the maid was an adult. Neither Oberon, nor Rhoslyn's conscience, would be troubled over being rid of the woman. "Then, madam, I see your thought; we must get rid of the maid."
"Agreed," Aurelia said. "We must get rid of the maid, by purely mortal means—one of the other servants must attack her. And I would like to see to that myself."
"That will not be so easy." Roslyn swallowed, thinking of Aurelia's arrogance and her moments of confusion; bringing her to the mortal world might well be a disaster. "I am known as Mary's lady, so I have a place at court and a reason for being there. But Elizabeth did not escape intact from her escapade. She has been banished to St. James's palace in London, and I have no reason for being there."
"I did not plan to walk up to the gate and demand entry," Aurelia snapped. "I am sure there are many places in so large a building or on the grounds where so skilled a Gate builder as your brother could open a Gate for me. He has not been of much use in any other way."
"No matter how skilled the Gate builder," Rhoslyn replied swallowing down her irritation and anxiety, "he needs to know the terminus, or the Gate might go awry."
"So?" Aurelia waved a careless hand. "You have been no more successful than your brother in removing Elizabeth from the line of successors of Henry VIII. The least you can do is find a way for me to begin to solve the problem myself. The maid must be removed; you agreed with me on that score. Without her we should have far less trouble in arranging Elizabeth's death or removal. And for what she did to me, I must in my own person make sure that she suffers."
Rhoslyn argued for a while, trying this excuse and that for dealing with the maid herself. In a very short time, however, she realized that all she was accomplishing was to annoy Aurelia. Before Vidal's consort dismissed her and said she would take the matter to him, Rhoslyn agreed to arrange for a Gate to transport her.
"In no long time," Aurelia said grimly, as she gestured Rhoslyn to leave. "I have waited long enough. I will not wait much longer for my revenge."
Furious but helpless, Rhoslyn left. Mounting Talog, she rode around the palace, and then to the opposite end of the domain, entering the first Gate to which she came. Although it took three extra stops, Rhoslyn eventually arrived at the Bazaar of the Bizarre. Following the winding path Pasgen had laid out for her, three more Gatings took her to her brother's domain. By the time she arrived at his door, his burly guards were waiting to take Talog, and Pasgen himself was at the door gesturing her inside into his living room.
"I heard you coming two Gates away," he said, grinning, when she had seated herself. "My, my, Rhoslyn. I didn't know you knew such language."
She laughed, albeit reluctantly. "It must have been more pungent than I realized to drag you out of your workshop."
He shrugged, evidently in good humor. "Ah, no. I was only sitting here reading—or trying to read—some old texts about the djinn from Alhambra."
"Alhambra!" She looked at him with surprise. "I thought that elfhame was dead and cursed."
"Yes. Dead and cursed. I did not stay long." He shook himself, like a dog ridding its coat of something noxious. "But what brings you here in such a mood?" He frowned, showing a touch of anxiety. "Not Mother?"
"No, Mother is fine and she seems to be taking a real interest in healing since she helped soothe your bruises," Rhoslyn replied, glad enough of the chance to ease into the subject that had brought her here. "I am encouraging her. No, it's not Mother. Did you remember that Aurelia had set her mind on having Elizabeth disgraced and stricken from the succession so she could be abducted?"
Pasgen made a disgusted noise. "Idiots. There are three lives between her and the throne. If Edward lives a full life, he will marry and have sons and they will stand between her and the throne also. She could catch some childish ailment and die. She could grow to womanhood, and plague could carry her off. She could, all by herself, fall into some conspiracy and be imprisoned or executed. Or she could succumb to her own hot blood and fall into disgrace. Why chance raising Oberon's ire, when natural events in the mortal world are likely to remove Elizabeth?"
Rhoslyn shook her head. "I think Aurelia's desire to seize her is . . . is personal. Even though Elizabeth was only a baby at the time of that battle, Aurelia blames her for what happened. But she hasn't lost sight of the fact that it was the maid who actually damaged her. Right now she wants to get into St. James's Palace so she can personally see that the maid is attacked, hurt, and killed."
For a moment Pasgen stared past his sister. Then he said, "Did you know that Aurelia is far less of a fool than Vidal?"
Rhoslyn laughed weakly. "She is a woman, after all. To be cleverer than a man is natural." Then she said more soberly, "I suspected she had more brains than Vidal when she first came, but she was far more damaged than Vidal in the battle."
Pasgen nodded. "And she knows it—and admits it, which is more than Vidal does. He is recovering, but I think he may never recall all that he lost, whereas Aurelia is seizing grimoires from every mage she can dominate and is relearning what she lost. She may come out well ahead of Vidal in control of magic, in fact."
Rhoslyn nodded wisely. "Ah, I thought that was a grimoire on her desk, but it shimmered and coiled away from my sight as if it had been sealed to her."
"That was the bargain she made with several mages." Pasgen laughed, but his expression was full of admiration. "They write one for her and seal it to her and she will leave the original grimoire with its master. But if I were one of those mages, I would never perform a spell that is not already written in the book I gave her—or at least, I would never perform it where or when she could learn about it. She is very vindictive."
Rhoslyn gave him a sharp look. "Did you give her any spells for Gates?"
"I gave her nothing," Pasgen said coldly.
Rhoslyn lifted one brow. "I thought you found her . . . attractive."
"What has that to do with anything?" Pasgen asked, and then added, with a wry twist to his lips, "She is not so beautiful any longer. Most of her looks are illusion."
"You can see through illusion now?" That was a surprise. She didn't think any Sidhe could do that—or at least, not without dispelling the illusion itself.
"No one can see through illusion Underhill," he replied dismissively. "Underhill is illusion. No, I can feel the spells humming around her. Never mind that. You said Aurelia wanted to get into St. James's Palace to arrange the death of the maid. So take her through the Gate to the London house, bespell the guards—"
"No!" Rhoslyn countered emphatically. "Aurelia wants to go now, and she wants you to make it possible. I have tried to convince her to wait a few weeks until Elizabeth's household is settled, but she will not. I think she believes I am delaying for some secret purpose—although what secret purpose she thinks I could have, I do not know. And to bespell the guards now would be disastrous."
"Hmmm, yes," he agreed, rubbing the side of his nose thoughtfully. "With supplies and messengers coming every other moment, to find the guards frozen at the gate would scream of magic."
"Yes, and though getting in would be easy enough, after the maid is killed there will certainly be a hue and cry, so getting out will not be so easy," she reminded him sharply. "What I would like is for you to build a Gate from Caer Mordwyn to wherever I am in the mortal world and hold it until we return."
It was not what Aurelia had demanded, but Rhoslyn was in no mood to give Vidal's consort a Gate into the palace where Elizabeth dwelled at least part of the time. Given such a tempting tool, Aurelia was bound to use it.
"Rhoslyn!" Pasgen protested. "Do you know how much power that will take?"
She sighed. "Yes, but I have a bad feeling about this business. Aurelia wants to prolong the maid's suffering to punish her, but she wants to arrange the punishment to come from another mortal . . . well, that is very sensible. Still, the maid is unlikely to suffer in silence. She will scream and struggle and attract attention, and Aurelia wants to be there to enjoy it all."
Pasgen snorted. "Surely in a great palace with wide grounds there would be private places?"
"Yes?" Rhoslyn was exasperated with him. He had spent enough time in the World Above to know how it was there! "And how am I to draw the maid there? I cannot go near her because of that accursed necklace she wears, so I cannot bespell her. Even assuming that my spell would not go awry because of the iron in the necklace. She hardly ever leaves Elizabeth—and Elizabeth can see through whatever illusions we use so I cannot tempt the maid away by, say, appearing like Champernowne." She sighed. "It will have to be a time and place where she customarily goes alone or remains alone after Elizabeth has been taken elsewhere."
"Hmmm, yes." Pasgen did not seem upset by Rhoslyn's display of temper. "That child's Talent is a cursed nuisance. And the maid would not leave her alone in a secret place. Likely the best place to deal with the maid will be the stable. Elizabeth rides and the maid does not, but the maid will certainly escort her charge to the stable."
Rhoslyn brightened, not the least because the stable was one of the safer places for an intruder to lie in wait. "Now that is an excellent thought, brother. I will go myself and discover how often Elizabeth rides, who accompanies her, and what the maid does when Elizabeth leaves." Rhoslyn nodded briskly. "That is my part and I will take care it is well done. If it would make your part easier, I could leave a token where I wanted the Gate to be."
Pasgen nodded. "That would make it easier. I could build the Gate at leisure and only activate it at your need. Then the power for building and sustaining would be separated. But I still do not see the need for the Gate to be held open. Surely you would be able to send an imp to me to tell me when to reopen it?"
Rhoslyn shook her head, her lips compressed to a thin line. "Aurelia is much recovered, but she still has moments when she cannot fix her mind. There is too much chance that she will freeze if something goes wrong. If the maid should throw one of the crosses in our direction, for example. I cannot bear cold iron, but Aurelia is violently sensitive to it now. I need to be able to push her through a Gate if we are likely to be discovered."
Pasgen looked thoughtful and then nodded. Satisfied and much less anxious, Rhoslyn agreed to have a meal with him, and they talked of pleasanter things. Rhoslyn was attempting to make a pattern around which she could force the mists of the chaos lands to form; that would save her from needing to create a creature from the basic mist each time she wanted one.
Pasgen still had not discovered a way to inactivate the red mist, but the self-motivated bit Rhoslyn had discovered was becoming very cooperative. It seemed to be responding well to learning mental commands, which Pasgen rewarded by feeding it portions of the substance of the chaos lands.
"Just don't feed it any of that red mist or vice versa," Rhoslyn said as she sat sipping her wine at the end of the meal. "Just think of a self-willed devourer."
"Hmmm." Pasgen's lip's pursed.
Rhoslyn sat upright. "Pasgen!" she exclaimed. "No. Promise me you will not."
"Well . . . not without considerable thought and study. But . . ." He saw how distressed she was and laughed. "Very well, sister. I promise."
Rhoslyn stood up. "I had better get back to London and stop in at St. James's Palace. Perhaps I can find a suitable groom to explain the arrangements for riding. With Aurelia so set on revenge, I want to be done with this as soon as possible."
Although the return path to the Bazaar of the Bizarre was extremely tortuous, Rhoslyn arrived there safely, and in only three more transits was back in Pasgen's house in the World Above. As Pasgen's house, off the Strand, was no great distance from St. James's, Rhoslyn simply wrapped herself in a nondescript cloak and walked.
Passing Whitehall, she entered the broad avenue where Henry VIII had once played at paille-maille. Young courtiers, squires, and pages still played when the king was in residence, but that was very rare these days; usually Henry stayed in Whitehall. Thus the broad, carefully mown lane was empty. Still, Rhoslyn kept well to the side, almost invisible as she passed along the avenue of trees and bushes that bordered the playing field. As she neared the end of that avenue and approached the gate that provided entrance to the palace grounds, she whispered the Don't-see-me spell.
As she had expected, by Queen Catherine's order there was considerable traffic of supplies and even furnishings still coming into St. James's. Rhoslyn did not need to wait very long before the guards opened the gate to a cart carrying hangings for Elizabeth's bedchamber. She followed it in, but did not turn left along the lane that led to a side door. Rhoslyn went the other way, skirted the side of the palace and came to the gate that opened into the deer park and riding paths.
A bored guard, half asleep, stood at the Gate. Rhoslyn took shelter behind an ornamental bush—sometimes when one meddled with a person's mind, that would cause the Don't-see-me spell to fail—and pushed the thought of opening the gate and looking around into the guard's mind. When he did step into the park, Rhoslyn stepped in almost on his heels and was safe inside before, shaking his head and wondering why he had decided to do something so gormless, he stepped out again.
From there it was a short walk to the stables in their separate enclosure near the palace. Rhoslyn slipped in the unguarded gate and made her way softly—taking care that her shadow should not draw attention to a person who was not there—into the stable itself.
Here there was activity. Rhoslyn immediately recognized Elizabeth's servants, a strong, dark-haired older man and a broad-shouldered but still boyishly spare younger one. In a few moments she had their names: the younger called the elder Kip, another groom called him Ladbroke. The same groom called the younger man Tolliver, while Ladbroke called him Reeve. More important, in the next few minutes she had the information for which she had come.
"'S th'lady ridin' agin t'arternoon?" the groom asked. "Be so, th'guard's 'orses need readyin'."
"Those were my instructions from Mistress Champernowne," Ladbroke said. "Until further notice, Lady Elizabeth will be at her books in the morning and then will ride out every day the weather is fine in the afternoon for her health and to exercise."
"Nice bits o' 'orseflesh she rides. Know a nag what could pass as t'is 'un's sister," the groom observed. "Make a puckle coin in th'change."
Tolliver, who had been brushing one of the horses' fetlocks, stood up suddenly, the brush in one hand clenched as a weapon, the other in a fist.
"I chose Lady Elizabeth's horses myself," Ladbroke said. "I know every hair on their bodies—"
"Nah!" the groom replied in alarm. "Wasn't tryin' t' chouse you. Would I'a said 't if'n I were? Bet m'lady wouldn' know."
Tolliver laughed, and to Rhoslyn, the laughter had the overtones of anger in it. "I should take that bet. You deserve to be done out of your money. My lady would certainly know if her mount did not recognize her, who had been riding her for four years, or if her horse was suddenly less spirited than before. Young as she is, my lady knows more than you would think."
Hidden in a shadowed corner and by the spell, Rhoslyn smiled mirthlessly. Out of loyalty and admiration her own servants were building a foundation for a charge of witchcraft. How convenient.
"A babe?" The groom snorted. "Royal babe 't that?"
"Willful she can be," Ladbroke said, grinning, "but the boy is quite right. Lady Elizabeth would know before she mounted that it was not her horse." The grin was replaced by a scowl. "And that is quite enough, Stover. There will be no meddling with any of the mounts of our party. I should like to know why the guards' horses are not already ready to go out. If you have left them foul to ease an exchange, I will have your place!"
The groom swelled belligerently. "You 'nd who else?"
"Me, for one," Tolliver snapped, stepping forward.
How convenient, Rhoslyn thought again. If Aurelia used Stover to attack the maid, Ladbroke and Tolliver would not be in the least surprised by his bad behavior and would doubtless testify against the man instead of being stubbornly silent. Pleased at how easily a plan had worked itself out, she sidled out of the stable.
Originally Rhoslyn had been planning to suggest that Aurelia bespell Tolliver, thinking it would serve that pest Elizabeth right to have one of her servants kill another. It was believable that Tolliver could have come to desire the maid, who was still young and comely. But then Rhoslyn remembered that Ladbroke had once lived Underhill. And he was one of those who had not forgotten. It was in his eyes. He might sense the spell on Tolliver. Stover was a better choice.
Now she had to find a place for Pasgen to set his Gate. Because Aurelia would be Gating into this place in broad daylight, the place would need to be concealed. Rhoslyn had first thought of choosing a spot in the stable itself, but the horses would most likely react poorly to a Gate appearing in their midst. Any whinnying or stamping unrest by those tenderly nurtured beasts would certainly bring their attentive grooms.
One side of the stable was used as the wall of a small paddock, the back of the stable faced the start of one of the bridle paths. Rhoslyn looked out into the deer park, wondering if she would have to choose some patch of brush, but that would mean she and Aurelia would have to cross some distance to reach the stable, likely in sight of Elizabeth, who would be riding out at the same time as they appeared. Elizabeth could see through illusion, and she might see them despite any spells they used to conceal themselves.
Fortunately the side of the stable that faced the palace was shielded by a tall yew hedge. Rhoslyn worked her way between the hedge and the stable wall. In some places she could barely squeeze past, encumbered with farthingaled skirts as she was, but she found a place where several branches had died out and had been broken to form a sort of hollow. There she laid her token from Pasgen on the ground. She and Aurelia would step out of nowhere into a place of privacy where they could not possibly be seen. Then all they needed was to take care not to shake the branches of the yews too much as they moved toward the entrance to the stable.
The rest of the day was very busy. She Gated to the empty house Underhill, and from there sent a message to Pasgen through the mind speakers who lived there. Then she sent an imp to Aurelia and was immediately called to Caer Mordwyn where she explained what had been arranged. Aurelia was pleased and with behavior unlike her past, autocratic performances, was perfectly willing to fall in with Rhoslyn's plans.
Elizabeth's entire staff focused on distracting her mind from what she had lost by going out into the garden in the middle of the night. Master Grindal gave Elizabeth only the day on which they arrived before he set her a heavy task of translation. He had heard the queen say, he told her, that she would like very much to read Margaret of Navarre's long poem The Mirror of the Sinful Soul, but that her French was weak and spoiled the sense of the work.
He was sure he said to Elizabeth that the queen would truly value The Mirror turned from French into English. With Elizabeth's elegant handwriting, it would be, Grindal said, a perfect gift for Queen Catherine for Christmas. And to make it even more personal, Elizabeth could also embroider a cover for the work.
Since Master Grindal also expected Elizabeth to keep up with her Latin and Greek—so she should not be shamed when they rejoined the group at Hampton Court, he told her sternly—she had enough to keep her mornings full. And when she came to eat her nuncheon, Kat Champernowne told her that a messenger had come from Lord Denno to ask if Elizabeth could ride with him in the deer park that very afternoon. And when Elizabeth pettishly said she was too tired and sad to ride out, Kat shook her head.
"Oh, you must, my dear. He has missed being with you so much all this time you were at court. Do not be so unkind. Lord Denno has been such a good friend to us."
"But he—" Elizabeth began and then bit her lip. "Oh, very well. I should look at the park, I suppose, and I might as well do it in his company."
Kat did not know, of course, how often Denno had met her in the maze or how often they had ridden together in the park beyond the Wilderness. And he was worried about what had happened after he and her Da had returned Underhill. And it was not poor Denno's fault that she had been caught in the garden with Da. It was all her own fault, all her own.
That was the bitterest part, that Elizabeth could blame no one except herself for her exile. If she had not been so suspicious, if she had trusted Denno, she could have met Da Underhill in perfect safety.
But now she knew he was real, knew he was alive . . . and knew Denno had never lied to her. If she had not taken the chance—yes, and suffered the consequences—she would never be entirely sure that Da was really, truly alive.
"There, that's my gracious, smiling lady," Kat said approvingly. "I knew you weren't going to meet poor Lord Denno with such a scowl on your face as you have been wearing since that trouble in the garden. And it is such a lovely palace, Lady Elizabeth, and right in London. When we are settled, we can go and look at the markets and the shops."
Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "Yes. And Denno will give me money so I can buy."
"Oh, my love, my lady, I will find something for you," Kat said in distress. "You must not ask Lord Denno."
Elizabeth shook her head. "Kat, you have not two pennies to clink together in your purse, and it is just fortunate that Dunstan has the trust of our old servants and they are willing to wait for their wages until the start of the new quarter or we would be rattling around in this palace without anyone to make the beds or cook or serve. Anyway, why should I not ask Denno?"
Kat rubbed her hands together uneasily. "It is unwise for a lady situated like yourself, so close to the king and the king's heir, to be in debt to a . . . a foreign merchant."
"That is ridiculous," Elizabeth said. "You know Denno does not need any favors from me, and I would never dare approach my father on such a subject even if Denno asked."
"I'faith, you are only a little girl now," Kat warned darkly, "but such debts can have a long life. I would like you to promise me that you will not ask Denno for money."
Elizabeth looked at her governess from under her lashes. Her eyes were bright with amusement. She knew she had only to show a preference for any item and Denno would buy it. She would not need to ask.
"Very well, I promise not to ask him for money."
She was surprised when a manservant reached around her arm and removed her plate—surprised because she had not realized that she had eaten the entire portion Kat had placed on it. She had expected the food to stick in her throat as it had been doing for the past few days while they readied themselves for the move and the litany "all my fault, all mine" repeated in her head
Now, although she did miss the stimulation of trying to outdo the young gentlemen who had years more of study under their caps, she knew she had enjoyed Master Grindal's pointed remarks on her successes and failures. Most of the young dolts only thought about translating the words; Master Grindal wanted her to think about what each word meant in the context of the entire work. He stimulated in another way.
Replying absently to Kat's continued remarks about the advantages of being in St. James's Palace, Elizabeth finished the remainder of her meal, drank her wine, and went to change her dress for riding. Blanche, as usual, accompanied her to the stable, where Denno came forward to greet her. Her horse was brought out, Denno lifted her to the saddle, Dickson and Gerrit also mounted, and they all rode out with Tolliver trailing two horse-lengths behind.
Blanche stood talking to Ladbroke, wondering whether it was worthwhile to walk back to the palace. She did not think, she told him, that Elizabeth would ride long today. Ladbroke shrugged and offered her a stool to sit on if she intended to wait. She accepted with thanks. He went to get the stool and Blanche took her spindle from the basket she had carried on her arm. She pinched up some carded wool from the basket and began to spin.
"'Eard 'bout some princess prickin' 'er finger on t'at toy 'nd fallin' asleep a hundret years," a coarse voice said. "Nice 't see pretty 'oman spin."
Blanche smiled, although she drew back a little from the smell of the man. Still, it never hurt to be polite. "Thank you for the compliment," she said. "And who are you?"
"Stover's m'name. Re-si-dent groom," he added carefully as if the proper pronunciation did not come easily to him. "Ran whole stable afore tey'uns come. Who needs 'um?"
"Ladbroke and Tolliver have been my lady's grooms since she was about three years old," Blanche said, a little stiffly. "They are very devoted to her, and she to them. They are very honest and knowing."
Stover snorted. "So sharp tey'd cut theirselfs if'n tey ain't careful."
Ostentatiously Blanche looked away from him toward the inside of the stable.
"So, wach'y do when young'uns t'bed?" Stover asked, coming closer.
Taking a step back, Blanche said sharply, "I have duties enough to keep me busy, I assure you."
"Dull sleepin' alone."
"But safe and comfortable," Blanche snapped. "And I am sure you, too, have duties you should be attending. I recommend that you get to them."
"And I recommend the same." Ladbroke's voice was hard and cold. "There's plenty of harness that needs cleaning." He set one of the stools he carried in the open doorway, dusting it off carefully. "Sorry to be so long, Mistress Parry. I was looking for this lazy lout to remind him about the harness, and to tell him to muck out the stalls of Dickson's and Gerrit's horses while they're out."
"Horses don' care," Stover said.
Both Ladbroke and Blanche stared at him for a moment. Blanche turned her back, muttering—but loud enough to hear—"Disgusting." Ladbroke pointed in silence to the interior of the stable. Apparently Stover saw something in Ladbroke's face that induced him not to push his luck any further.
"That was the outside of enough," Ladbroke said, anger in his voice. "I wanted to give him a week to get used to us and working, but I will have to tell the steward to get rid of him at once."
"It is my fault," Blanche said apologetically. "He began by talking about that fairy tale in which the princess pricks her finger on a spindle, and then sleeps for a hundred years. It made me think he was better than his station."
"He's got tastes above his station—or below it. I'll agree to that much," Ladbroke replied. "He proposed to me to sell Lady Elizabeth's horses and substitute God-knows-what that look a bit alike to replace them."
Blanche shook her head. "What a fool. Maybe he believes in fairy tales where the so-called clever lad always tricks his betters!"
Ladbroke looked past her. Blanche did not think he was seeing either the stable wall or the courtyard beyond. He said no more, but Blanche thought he might be seeing the fairy place where he had once lived. To her surprise, she could detect no regret in his face. Whatever he remembered was pleasant, but not longed for.
Blanche continued to spin in silence, but not for very much longer. Less than a full hour had passed when Ladbroke stopped polishing the harness on which he had been working and lifted his head. A moment later, Blanche heard hooves on the hard driveway and Ladbroke went to open the gate of the outer courtyard for the riding party.
When they arrived at the stable, Denoriel did not dismount, allowing Ladbroke to lift Elizabeth from her horse. Denoriel just leaned down from Miralys to touch the girl's face. "I will be away for a few days," he said, "but you know the messenger that can reach me in an emergency. Only I do hope there will be none."
Elizabeth laughed. "What sort of emergency can happen in a virtually empty palace?" she asked. "Unless I am so foolish as to fall down the stairs!"
"God's kind Grace forefend!" Denoriel exclaimed, making an odd sign in the air. "Remember, if you remain cheerful and all else goes well . . ."
"We will go . . . adventuring," Elizabeth finished, after her lips had formed another word, one she could not say.
Denoriel understood and nodded, and Miralys started down the road to the main gate. Elizabeth sighed, but she was not really sad, and was grateful to Kat for making her ride out. Denno had brought all kinds of joyous messages from Da and such tales of his delight at being with her that her exile seemed worthwhile. She smiled at Tolliver, who was leading her mount away, waved at Ladbroke, and followed Blanche, who had packed away her yarn and spindle, toward the palace.
As she passed the yew hedge, Elizabeth hesitated. Something inside her echoed faintly the feeling of Underhill—
But it was not enough to stir either recognition or warning.So, although she sensed the amulet Rhoslyn had left, she did not recognize it and passed on.
Later in the day—actually while Pasgen was setting and testing his Gate—Ladbroke grew uneasy. He had no Talent and could not feel magic, but he had lived so long with it that a familiar sense of prickling and heaviness in the air teased him. He went all over the barn checking each stall and each animal. There was nothing either amiss or too familiar.
All he found was that Elizabeth's two mounts were unusually alert for the time of day, eyes wide open and ears cocked. Ladbroke examined them and the whole stall carefully and found nothing; the horses were not nervous, merely expectant. That was odd, but he felt odd himself—as he had when Elizabeth used to ride out to meet Lord Denno. Ladbroke suspected that Denno made her cast and ward against spells. Ladbroke had that same feeling now, so perhaps the mare and gelding associated the feeling of magic with their rider and were waiting for her to appear.
What magic, though? Ladbroke continued his investigation with great thoroughness, but he could not find anything inside or outside the stable. By the time he got to making his way past the yew hedge, Pasgen was finished with his work and had retrieved the amulet. The feeling of magic being done was gone, and Ladbroke found nothing.
But he could not know that was only because there was no longer anything to find.