Pasgen came to Rhoslyn's domain to tell her that the Gate was ready and tested. Somewhat to his surprise, Llanelli came down and greeted him with real pleasure and none of her past hysterical pleas and warnings. She was so calm, even amusing, that Pasgen agreed to have a meal with her and Rhoslyn, and actually enjoyed himself. His mother was interested in what he had to say about the chaos lands without being prying, so much so that he engaged in a real, pleasurable conversation with her long past the time when he would usually have departed.
Afterward he took Rhoslyn to see where he had set the Caer Mordwyn terminus of the Gate to the stable. It was concealed not far from Vidal's own Gate, which now looked as if it was disintegrating. The black glass seemed dull and scratched, the cracks in the floor were wider, the lava no longer bubbled and roiled, and some of the stalagmites had fallen over. Gaps of emptiness showed in the path to the right, and some of the foul black slime had oozed up through the gravel in the middle path. Rhoslyn was not interested enough to test the left-hand path. She wondered, though, what could have caused Vidal to so neglect one of the main ways into his domain.
The noisy overflow of magic from Vidal's Gate completely concealed Pasgen's neat working. Rhoslyn would never have found the place if Pasgen had not taken her there and showed her the odd formation of dead trees and brush that marked it.
He regarded it with resignation. "I suppose I can sit behind the brush and wait for you and Aurelia to return, but I hope you will not keep me waiting long. I doubt anyone will notice the Gate in that magical mess that Vidal left over there, but a person's aura is different. A number of unpleasant things, including Vidal himself, will be able to sense me."
"I don't know," Rhoslyn said, her brow creased with worry. "I don't know how long we will have to wait for the girl to come. I know she rides out in the afternoon every day that is fine, but I don't think the time is set."
Pasgen grimaced. "Why can't I just leave the Gate for Aurelia to use when she wants? I haven't tied it into any of the power in this domain. In a few days it will just die."
"Perhaps leaving Aurelia stranded." Rhoslyn shuddered. "The Great Evil only knows what she would do then. She's not to be trusted on her own. And to speak the truth, Pasgen, I don't want her roaming around a royal palace at her own will, for even the shortest time. If she sees an attractive servant, she would almost certainly abduct him or her. If she did that a few times in a few days . . . the whole palace would be in an uproar and Elizabeth would know and tell Denoriel."
Pasgen frowned. "I thought you said Aurelia was more reasonable than she used to be. You could warn her. Couldn't you?"
Rhoslyn shook her head. "I doubt my warning would have any effect. She is better, but will not remember that mortals are not quite dumb animals; she thinks she can do whatever she wishes, and they won't notice, or will soon forget. And who knows what else might blunder through an open Gate to the mortal world? Any Unseleighe creatures that found themselves there would certainly cause an uproar."
"Yes." Pasgen sighed. "There's that. But I really don't fancy being bound to this spot for Dannae knows how long." He stared contemplatively at Rhoslyn and then, suddenly, laughed. "What an idiot I am sometimes. I will bind the Gate to you."
"Me?" Rhoslyn actually squeaked with surprise. "The only thing I know about Gates is how to use them."
Pasgen laughed, his good humor restored. "That's all you need to know about this one. It's even simpler than the usual Gate because it has only one terminus. When you—and it will be only you and what you touch—step into the Gate, it will take you to the yew hedge near the stable, nowhere else. Remember that. You will not be able to will it to take you anywhere else. And when you step back into it at the stable, it will take you to this terminus in Caer Mordwyn, nowhere else."
"All right," she agreed reluctantly, "but I don't have the kind of power you now have, brother. If you bind the Gate to me, will it leach from me?"
The statement surprised Pasgen. Before that terrible night when they had tried to abduct Elizabeth and he, as well as Vidal and Aurelia, had been so severely wounded, Rhoslyn had been fiercely competitive. She would never have admitted that he was more powerful. She would have struggled to find a way to match or overmatch him.
However, Rhoslyn had changed during the time she cared for him while he recovered. And she had cared not only for his body; she had supported his spirit too. She had changed the rooms in which he lived so the furnishings suited his ascetic taste, removing carving and gold leaf, providing bed and chairs in the stark black and white that he preferred. Odd that he had not thanked her or appreciated what she had done at the time, and only remembered it now. He touched her hand.
"No," he said reassuringly, "the Gate is self-powered. It will not draw on you, but that is why it will last only a few days, a week at most. If you need it longer, you will have to tell me. But it will be simple enough to recharge it." He paused, and added, "I would prefer if Aurelia and Vidal did not know that it is so easy for me to ingather energy, or they will have me charging up bottomless pits for them to draw on."
Rhoslyn laughed, then suddenly kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for being so kind to Mother. I think she is really getting over the drug. It means a lot to her when you are willing to be in her company. It makes her struggle worthwhile."
He shook his head. "Then she is still a fool. It is your approval she should seek."
That made Rhoslyn laugh again. "Oh no. It is always sons a mother favors; a daughter can be a friend, but the son is her shining knight who is all-in-all to her. Now if our father had lived—"
A brief expression of regret shadowed Rhoslyn's expression, but she smiled again almost at once and told Pasgen to go ahead with his binding. It was soon done and Pasgen moved away to where Vidal's confusion of magic would block his influence on his own Gate.
Rhoslyn willed the Gate active, stepped through into a black night in which only the prickly needles and the odor identified the yew hedge, and stepped back. Another thought closed the gate to a small, blacker-than-black hole. Satisfied, she said farewell to her brother and made her way to the palace, where she informed Aurelia that all was in readiness for the removal of Elizabeth's maid.
Aurelia was delighted with Rhoslyn's promptness. Her spell was ready and only required her to touch the man on any bare skin. She rose, sipped from the glass of blue liquid, and placed a flask from beside it in her pouch. They walked from Aurelia's apartment down the grand staircase and then toward the outer door, and talked about the spell while Aurelia summoned transportation for them.
This took the form of a small but elaborate open carriage that would seat two. Shafts protruded from the front, but no animal was harnessed. A clap of Aurelia's hands brought four dull-eyed human slaves, who picked up the shafts. At Aurelia's gesture, Rhoslyn climbed into the carriage, wondering why the woman used mortal slaves when constructs were stronger. But when Aurelia was seated beside her, she gestured and black spots appeared on the slaves' backs. They all gasped, the carriage jerked forward.
"Smoothly," Aurelia called.
The blackened areas on the slaves' backs broadened. They moaned but hesitated and then moved again with matched strides. Aurelia breathed in deeply.
Rhoslyn now understood why Aurelia preferred human slaves. A miasma of acrid power flooded out of the pain and fear of the slaves and flowed back toward the carriage. Rhoslyn breathed in also, out of habit, out of need, because it was not wise to refuse extra power when it was available. But the pain was like acid along her power channels.
Why, she wondered, was there so much power awash in the Bright Court? Why were the Unseleighe domains so thin of power that they needed to draw on the misery of humans? She wished there was some other way. Pasgen had found another way, she was sure. Would he teach her? Could she learn?
When they reached Vidal's Gate, Aurelia looked at it with a total lack of expression. "From here?" she asked.
Rhoslyn shook her head and pointed in the right direction. "No. We need to go where that dead tree is tangled in the brush. We can pass behind this Gate to reach Pasgen's."
Aurelia's gaze sharpened as she looked in the indicated direction. "Where is he?"
"Elsewhere," Rhoslyn said quickly. "He did not think it wise to, perhaps, draw Vidal's attention, which his presence might do. Instead he sealed the Gate to me."
"Why not to me?" Aurelia asked, and there was no mistaking the sour tone of the question.
Rhoslyn shrugged. "Pasgen is impatient. I was here. You would have to be summoned, which, again, might draw Vidal's attention."
"Ah, yes." Aurelia's tone evened again. "Pasgen is—wise—to avoid Vidal's attention."
There was something in Aurelia's voice that disturbed Rhoslyn, something that hinted Aurelia knew Pasgen was only pretending fear. Or was it that Aurelia thought Pasgen did not understand yet that he had no need to fear Vidal? The slaves meanwhile had somehow been directed to Pasgen's Gate. They stopped before the tangle of brush and dead tree. Rhoslyn stepped out of the carriage and took Aurelia's hand.
The Gate opened before them, and they stepped through, right into the midst of dripping yew branches. In moments they were well soaked. Rhoslyn stifled an exclamation of disgust, and was all for simply stepping back through the Gate, but Aurelia held her firmly.
"I want to see the man who will be my tool."
Rhoslyn was not convinced of the wisdom of this idea. "It will be safest to bespell him just before he must act. You would not want him to attack some other female who just happened to pass this way."
Aurelia glanced at Rhoslyn with unspoken contempt. "Not because of my spell. It will work on him over the extra time so that it becomes part of the way he thinks, but he will not act, no matter whom he sees or speaks to or touches, until I say the word of release. I will be there to savor my revenge."
Rhoslyn shrugged. Aurelia had always been good with the spells that manipulated the mind, and Pasgen had told Rhoslyn that she was relearning everything she had lost and more. Rhoslyn gestured and stepped forward, then hesitated and turned back. Aurelia was not following her but had shrunk back into the wet embrace of the yew.
"Iron," Aurelia breathed.
Rhoslyn carefully kept her face expressionless, but she felt a wash of relief. Aurelia was still too sensitized to iron to find the mortal world easy to use—or even abide. She said, "Mortals use iron for everything. The building has iron braces and iron nails, and there are a lot of iron objects in the barn—tools and parts of the harness and horseshoes. I can feel it, but if you want, I will—"
"No." Aurelia felt in the pouch fastened to her belt and withdrew the flask from which she took a long swallow.
"We need the Don't-see-me spell," Rhoslyn warned, watching Aurelia straighten up and the frown smooth from her brow. What was in that potion? "Can you cast your own?"
Aurelia took a step forward. Her voice was cold and hard. "Do not irritate me, Rhoslyn. Just be quick about finding this mortal."
But Stover was not apparent when they first entered the barn and Aurelia started toward Ladbroke, who was standing stock still in the wide aisle between the horse stalls, slowly turning his head from side to side. Not wishing to risk even a whisper, Rhoslyn seized Aurelia by the arm and pulled her away toward the back of the barn.
"Not him!" she muttered in Aurelia's ear. "He lived long Underhill before he returned to the mortal world. If you touched him, he would see you, spell or no spell."
As if to affirm her words, Ladbroke's moving head turned toward them and his gaze fixed. Rhoslyn stiffened, but it was plain enough that he could not really see them. He squinted, trying to force himself to look at them. Then his lips thinned and he picked up a pitchfork and began to swing it back and forth, advancing slowly in their direction.
Instead of sidling away, Aurelia stood staring at the threatening mortal as if she could not believe her eyes. She began to lift a hand, but Rhoslyn seized it and pulled her away. She turned then toward Rhoslyn, her face scarlet with rage, but Rhoslyn spun her around forcefully, pointing over her shoulder.
At the entry to an empty stall stood the man Rhoslyn had heard Ladbroke call Stover. Where Ladbroke was hard and square, Stover was soft and fat, his gut hanging over the dirty cord that held up his breeches, which were smeared with manure. He was staring too, but not at her and Aurelia; he was watching Ladbroke swing at nothing with the pitchfork, a very ugly expression on his face.
As Ladbroke came slowly forward, Stover slipped out of the stall and slid sideways toward the front of the barn until he was behind Ladbroke. Then he started forward, gripping the handle of the shovel with which he had been mucking out the stall. He was intent on Ladbroke, who was intent on the place where Rhoslyn and Aurelia had been standing. Stover lifted the shovel slowly.
"He is the one," Rhoslyn murmured, pushing Aurelia forward. "Set the spell quickly, while he is stalking the other man."
Soft as she had spoken, Rhoslyn saw Ladbroke shift his attention to the place they now stood. He seemed to have extraordinarily keen hearing. Aurelia, however, had darted across the aisle and was gesturing and whispering as she approached Stover. Rhoslyn backed away a few steps before Ladbroke's advance, even making a small hissing sound to hold Ladbroke's attention. His movement had put him just out of reach of Stover's shovel.
Aurelia, teeth set over the pain that the proximity of iron was causing her, stepped forward again and pressed her index finger to Stover's neck, just below and a trifle behind his ear. He felt her touch or, perhaps, felt the spell flow into him, because he made a sound of surprise and irritation. Ladbroke whirled around toward him instantly, the pitchfork raised.
"Naw, then," Stover said. "Drunk ar'y?"
Ladbroke did not lower the pitchfork. "I thought I told you to muck out Pleasaunce's stall."
"Was doin' 'till y'started t' wave t' fork 'round. Who're y' arter wiv't?" the man asked, slyly. "Seein' t'ings?"
While the men spoke, Aurelia hurried past them to the stable door. Rhoslyn followed close behind. Aurelia was almost running by the time she squeezed past the meeting of the barn side with the yew hedge, but she stopped in the shelter of the hedge, hissing with impatience because she could not find the Gate. Rhoslyn, catching up, laid a hand on her shoulder. The Gate opened. They darted through, Aurelia moving as if she could not rid her feet of mortal soil quickly enough.
Safe Underhill, Aurelia turned her back on Vidal's decaying Gate and snapped at Rhoslyn, "Why did you stop me from blasting that arrogant mortal? How dare he threaten me?"
"I stopped you because that particular mortal has frequent meetings with Lady Elizabeth and possibly with Denoriel," Rhoslyn snapped back. "He already suspected our presence. Do you think he would not cry aloud of being bespelled? Denoriel would believe him and set some kind of watch. Believe me, the chances of killing the maid will be much less if anyone suspects an enchantment has been used."
Aurelia glared at Rhoslyn, but obviously could not think of an adequate riposte, because she tossed her head and said, "See to it that we do not need to spend more than a few moments waiting for the maid. All that cold iron does me no good. Could you not have found a better place?"
"Not a place where we could be sure the maid would come." Rhoslyn sighed at Aurelia's stupidity. "Where would you suggest? In the palace there is double, treble the amount of cold iron. The maid does not go to the woods or the fields and the groom does not go into the garden. Elsewhere there is little chance for concealment and a great deal of opportunity for rescue."
"Very well," Aurelia spat. "The stable it must be."
Rhoslyn nodded. "I can set an imp where it can see the entrance to the stable, but where it will itself be concealed—you remember that Elizabeth can see the creatures and can see through any illusion. The imp will come to me when Elizabeth and the maid arrive at the stable. I will send the imp to you, and you can meet me here."
"By which time the maid will be on her way back to the palace where a groom would not dare follow her." Aurelia's lips turned down in a discontented grimace.
"That is possible," Rhoslyn admitted, "but I think not. It always takes some time to get all the horses out and everyone mounted. And sometimes, like yesterday, the woman does not return to the palace at all, but waits for Lady Elizabeth in the stable. In any case, she usually has a few words with Ladbroke. And do not forget, I can adjust the time to arrive a moment after the imp departed."
Aurelia nodded. "And the bespelled one will be close. He will not attack until I say the word, but he will be drawn to the woman. Very well, I will await the imp."
Whereupon, she turned away and gestured. From behind the tangled, half-formed brush, the four slaves drew the elegant little carriage. Aurelia stepped into it and sat; a new gesture woke burns on a different part of the slaves' backs and they hurried forward. Rhoslyn stood watching with thinned lips, furious at being abandoned. Not that she wanted to ride with Aurelia, but now she had the choice of using Vidal's deteriorating Gate, walking to the other end of the domain, or summoning Pasgen. Selfish, vicious, and cruel; that was Aurelia.
She settled for the last, stroking the little furry snake nestled under her collar and saying, "Come and get me, Pasgen. I'm stranded near the stable Gate. Bring Torgen."
In a shorter time than Rhoslyn expected, the Gate she had been told led only to and from the stable at St. James's Palace opened wider than Rhoslyn thought it could. Pasgen rode Torgen out.
"What do you mean you are stranded?" he asked irritably.
"Did you want me to use that?" Rhoslyn asked, gesturing toward Vidal's Gate.
There were now more cracks than floor and, though the lava was no more than cold red rock now, anyone who slipped through would have a nasty fall and might still be impaled on the few stalagmites that were upright.
Pasgen frowned, in the way of someone confronted with a terrible, even criminal waste. "Why does he let that happen? It is a disgrace."
"Either he gets some amusement out of seeing those who come here cope or fall victim, or he has forgotten it even exists." Rhoslyn shrugged. "Take me up on Torgen. I left Talog in the stable of Caer Mordwyn."
"Then how did you get here?" Pasgen asked, hauling her up to sit pillion on Torgen's hindquarters.
The not-horse snorted and Rhoslyn could feel the muscles of his rump tighten as he prepared to buck her off. "Don't you dare, Torgen!" she snapped.
Pasgen laughed as the not-horse quieted. "They still obey you. I suspect that even my guards would obey you."
Rhoslyn blinked. "I never thought of it. I suppose they would. Would you like me to—"
"No." Pasgen shook his head, an amused expression on his face. "Actually, it is a kind of safeguard. If I should be struck down or some accident make me helpless, it is well that the guards would obey you."
Rhoslyn tightened her grip on Pasgen slightly, warm with pleasure at his trust, but all she said was, "As to how I was stranded here, Aurelia took me with her from the palace but she was displeased because I would not let her strike down Elizabeth's chief groom—he who was once a servant Underhill—and out of pique, she would not take me back. It is rather too long to walk, especially in a gown."
"She needs a lesson in manners," Pasgen said, as Torgen's long strides brought them to the gates of Caer Mordwyn. His voice was cold, and he gestured at the gates, which immediately opened inward with such force that they slammed the walls to either side.
"Gently, dear heart," Rhoslyn said. "You are too careful of my pride. It is true that she holds herself too high and mighty, but often that makes her useful because she tells me what Vidal is doing in order to make herself seem important."
Pasgen did not reply to that, and Rhoslyn slid down from Torgen's back when Pasgen stopped it by the stable. A newt-servant hurried out and Rhoslyn asked that Talog be brought to her. Ichor oozed from the shoulder of the groom who brought the creature and Rhoslyn saw wheals on Talog's hide.
"Who did that?" she snarled.
The groom collapsed on the ground, releasing Talog's rein, and the not-horse promptly rose and brought its clawed feet down. In moments the groom was a bloody ruin. Rhoslyn said, "Enough," to the not-horse, who snapped at her irritably. She struck its muzzle so that blood flowed from the lip, cut on the predator's teeth, but she also turned and ran her hand over the wheals and they disappeared.
Together she and Pasgen rode to a little-used Gate at the back of the palace, made two transfers from different Gates, and arrived at the empty house. Only this time when the not-horses were sent off to the stable they settled down in the seldom-used parlor.
Rhoslyn called up an imp and dispatched it with clear mental commands as to where it was to wait and what should trigger its return—a return to her presence, not to the place it started from. When it was gone, she told Pasgen everything that had happened. He was not much interested, except in the fact that Ladbroke seemed sensitized to the use of magic. And he shook his head over the drink to which Aurelia seemed addicted.
"It soothes her and relieves her pain and it is prepared for her by a mortal healer?" he asked. "It seems unlikely. When have mortals ever been able to do anything to heal the Sidhe?"
"I have not asked, but that is what observation tells me," Rhoslyn replied.
Pasgen shrugged. "Does it muddle her mind too?"
Rhoslyn took pains to recall everything she could. "Of that, I am not sure. Once when the pain struck her hard and she emptied the glass, she seemed to forget who I was for a moment. But the memory returned. And when she takes less of it, it does not seem to affect her mind or abilities. The spell she set on the groom was faultless."
"Ah, well, it is something to keep in mind," Pasgen said as he rose to his feet. And as he left, he looked over his shoulder to say, "Be careful, sister. Call if you need me."
Rhoslyn allowed the servants to bring her a meal. It was not very good—mostly the servants were used to transfer messages—but it was wise once in a while to act as if she and Pasgen did live in the house. While she ate, Rhoslyn thought of Pasgen's trust in her and smiled slightly.
It was a rare thing in the Unseleighe Court . . . trust. But then she thought of his reason for allowing his guards to obey her—that he might be struck down or be made helpless. Struck down by whom? Had Pasgen enemies of whom he had not told her? Made helpless? By that accursed mist? She did not like the questions that were occurring to her, but there was little she could do about them. Pasgen would do what he was going to do, and she could not stop him.
Eventually Rhoslyn left the empty house and made the multiple Gate transfers that would take her from there to her own domain. To her surprise, her mother came down to meet her, somewhat flushed with pride and pleasure. One of the male constructs had torn its hand badly while gardening. It had been waiting, moaning softly, for Rhoslyn to return and Llanelli had found it, and had used a healing spell on it.
"I did not know whether a spell designed for us would work on a construct," she said, with pleasure and pride, "but since it was a spell of construction I thought it could do no harm. And it worked!"
"Well, now, Mother, I am very glad to know that," Rhoslyn said, leading her mother into the living room where they both sat down. "Of course when I make them out of the mists in the chaos lands, I suppose I draw on my knowledge of what a Sidhe looks like and likely how my own muscles work, so I suppose it is reasonable that what would heal me would also heal the constructs. Still, it is of worth to have that proven. You have done all of us a valuable turn today!"
"Yes, and I was glad to do it, very glad to know that the spells I have been learning work," Llanelli said, flushing. "But . . . but I am coming to a point in my studies when I really need to . . . to practice what I have learned."
"But I can't let you advertise for patients and have them come here," Rhoslyn protested. "You know why Pasgen and I keep our true dwellings secret. Vidal Dhu and, even more, Aurelia cannot be trusted. They might destroy everything just for spite or lay some trap to catch us unaware so that we might be bound to their wills."
"And you think I want to be free so I can get oleander." Llanelli sighed. "It isn't so. I hardly ever think of it now that I have something else to think of. But if all the study is just sterile make-work to keep my hands and mind busy . . ."
Rhoslyn shook her head. "Actually, I wasn't thinking about the oleander. I thought at first that perhaps you could set up as a healer in one of the markets, but it would make you too vulnerable—not so much to the drug as to Vidal. No, I would like for you to set up as a healer. There are few enough among the Unseleighe; you could earn many favors, and make allies for us as well."
Llanelli said nothing, only clasped her hands and watched her intertwined fingers.
After a long moment, Rhoslyn said slowly, "There is the empty house. Perhaps it could be safeguarded. With your maids, a couple of my girls, who are very clever, and perhaps Pasgen's guards or a few special constructs . . ."
Llanelli's face transformed with enthusiasm, and she seemed to light up from within. Her eyes became more green, less like transparent marbles. "Oh, yes. There are Gates from all three markets to the empty house. It would be easy for patients to come to me."
"Easy for anyone," Rhoslyn said rather flatly, but when she saw the life fading from Llanelli, she smiled and added, "On the other hand, the servants there are all keyed to my mind and Pasgen's so we could be summoned from wherever we were . . . Let me talk to Pasgen about this, Mother."
Llanelli wilted. "Pasgen will say no."
Rhoslyn laughed. "Yes he will, but only at first. I will explain, and once he thinks about it, I believe he will agree. Meanwhile I will tell the girls and the servants here that if they are hurt they should not wait for me, but go to you for help."
"You won't tell the girls to hurt the other servants just so I can have patients," Llanelli said doubtfully, knowing the ways of the Unseleighe.
"No, I won't do that," Rhoslyn said, laughing again. "There are accidents enough among them to keep you from being entirely bored—they are like children, you know, who try things with little judgment and no care for consequences. But how will you let those who come to the market know that you are a healer and keep your real identity secret?"
They talked about that for a while, seriously at first and then suggesting ridiculous ploys to each other so that they giggled like children. And after a while, Llanelli, still smiling, leaned forward and kissed Rhoslyn.
"Thank you, my love, thank you," she said. "I'll go now and look at the gardener's hand to see if my spell is holding and the construct flesh is binding together as Sidhe flesh would heal. You have things to do, I'm sure."
In fact, Rhoslyn did have a few projects waiting, the creation of constructs for several of the dark Sidhe, but she had time yet and was not in the mood for building sex objects that looked mortal but were more durable than the poor mayfly humans, or guards that could rival an ogre in strength. And suddenly, thinking of the horrible death coming to the maid, she felt unutterably weary. Sidhe did not sleep as such, but that was exactly what Rhoslyn wanted to do . . . sleep.
Too much Aurelia, she told herself, as she climbed the stairs and let herself into her suite of rooms. There was a bed, of course, usually used for purposes other than sleep—but there had been no one for a long time that Rhoslyn could tolerate as a bedmate. She did not even think of that as she waved her clothing away and lay down.
Sidhe did not usually sleep, but Rhoslyn achieved that state, or something close to it before she was jarred out of her peaceful meditations on nothingness by a lance of pain—
The pain of having her hair pulled. She nearly blasted the imp that was laughing as it tugged, but it began to chitter, "On the path. Near. Near." And she remembered setting the imp to watch for Elizabeth and her maid.
She sent it off to Aurelia and sprang from the bed. A thought clothed her in full mortal dress and she rushed out, mentally calling to her servants to bring Talog. It was there in moments. Rhoslyn mounted and rode to her private Gate, cursing the need for the circuitous route to protect her privacy. In no long time, however, she rode Talog out of the little-used Gate in the rear of Caer Mordwyn. This time she did not dismount in the courtyard, only sent a servant to inform Aurelia that she had arrived.
Vidal's consort emerged promptly but made a grimace of dissatisfaction on seeing Roslyn mounted. "I thought to supply you with a little extra power," she said. "My slaves do not get enough exercise these days."
"The less I need to adjust the time the better," Rhoslyn replied, and added mendaciously, "The Gate is temporary—Pasgen had not the strength nor the audacity to build a new permanent Gate in our lord's domain—and it might fail if it is tweaked too much. I hope that you will settle for swiftness and ride."
Aurelia did not look happy, but she called for a mortal servant to bring her horse, and when he did and had helped her to mount, she broke his arm and seared his naked chest, sucking in the outflow of pain and terror. Rhoslyn did not crowd close to take in whatever Aurelia missed.
Rhoslyn found she had less and less taste for the sour burning power of mortal misery, and as they cantered away, she thought again of Pasgen's ability to take into himself some of the power intrinsic to the roiling mists of the chaos lands. They were twins, almost the same blood and bone; surely if Pasgen could do it, she could too. The next time she molded mists into a living construct, she would—
"Here is Vidal's Gate," Aurelia said, breaking into Rhoslyn's thoughts. "Has Pasgen's died already? I do not see any sign of it."
"No," Rhoslyn affirmed. "I can feel it, and it is in better condition than Vidal's."
"Vidal is careless sometimes," Aurelia replied, not looking toward the disintegrating Gate; the roof of the black glass temple had fallen in places and the left-hand path had disappeared completely.
Rhoslyn directed Talog around Vidal's Gate and stopped the not-horse by the bent tree rising out of the unfinished mess that was probably meant to be brush. She dismounted and led the not-horse behind the ill-defined bushes. Aurelia followed, dismounted, and looked at the ground, frowning. A glowing copper rod with loops at the end of a crossbar appeared. Aurelia fastened her horse to one loop and invited Rhoslyn to use the other. Rhoslyn laughed.
"Talog could have that out of the ground in one pull." She turned to the not-horse, put a finger on its forehead and said, "You will stay here and wait for me. You will not eat the horse that is tied here. You may eat anything else that comes along, but do not go far from this place."
For answer, the not-horse snapped at her and she clouted it, but it did not attempt to savage her when she turned her back on it. Vicious as its temper was, it obeyed her, and that vicious temper was useful at times like this. Around in front of the bent tree, Rhoslyn took Aurelia's hand. The Gate opened to her will.
They stepped through into a perfect summer day. The sun was bright, there was a cool but very gentle breeze, everything smelled fresh—if rather strongly of yew—and the sound of voices, a girl's and a woman's, came to them through the hedge. They hurried forward toward the open area near the stable door, Aurelia pulling her flask from her pouch.
Rhoslyn glanced at Aurelia and quickly covered her elaborate, diamond-studded gown with the illusion of an upper servant's sober dress. Aurelia drank from her flask, closed her eyes, sipped again, then capped it and put it away. Rhoslyn breathed a small sigh of relief, having been afraid that Aurelia would take too much.
Both whispered the Don't-see-me spell, but Rhoslyn pulled Aurelia close and reminded her that Elizabeth could see through it and that they must remain hidden until the girl was gone. They did not need to wait long. Apparently a message had gone down to the stable that Elizabeth would ride and all the horses were ready. It was only necessary to lead them out. Nyle and Shaylor mounted. Ladbroke lifted Elizabeth to the saddle.
"I hope you don't mind, my lady," he said as she settled herself, "if Tolliver rides with you today. There was some funny business in the stable yesterday."
Elizabeth replied sharply, "Funny business?"
Rhoslyn pulled Aurelia farther back, away from the opening in the hedge. They could no longer see what was happening, but they could hear.
"Don't know, my lady. I just felt . . . something was in the air, like many years ago in the place I worked before I came into His Grace of Richmond's service."
There was a pause. Rhoslyn could imagine glances meeting over words that could not be spoken. Then Elizabeth said, "Very well, Ladbroke. Do you think I should send a message to Lord Denno?"
Another pause, then Ladbroke said, "Don't want to take up his lordship's time. I couldn't find nothing wrong in the stable and nothing strange happened. Maybe the feeling was just in my head."
"Very well," Elizabeth repeated, and then, "stay here."
Rhoslyn cocked her head. That had sounded like an order rather than permission. Rhoslyn hoped it was for the maid so this unpleasant experience need not be repeated. Through breaks in the hedge she could see that one guardsman had already ridden out of the stable yard. Elizabeth followed, and the other guardsman and the groom called Tolliver rode out after her. Rhoslyn watched them and then nodded at Aurelia, who was just capping her flask after taking another drink from it. Before Rhoslyn could caution her about using too much of the potion, Aurelia started forward.
Fortunately Aurelia seemed alert and aware as she slipped around the side of the stable. The maid, who was talking to Ladbroke, suddenly stiffened and looked around.
"Something's here," she said. "You weren't imagining it yesterday."
Rhoslyn stopped where she was, not wanting to increase the feeling of magic caused by the Don't-see-me spells and set Ladbroke to feeling around with a pitchfork again. She frowned, now sensing a different kind of magic than that created by Aurelia and herself, but before she could seek it out her attention was distracted by Aurelia, who slipped past the two standing in the doorway.
The maid's head followed the Sidhe, but Aurelia disappeared into the stable. Rhoslyn did not dare call out to warn her to wait, that Elizabeth's party was still too close. As quickly as she could, Rhoslyn now followed Aurelia. She kept as close to the wall as she could, but the maid's head snapped around toward her.
If she intended a warning to Ladbroke, it was too late. Aurelia had already found Stover lurking nearby in the stall vacated by Elizabeth's horse. She crossed right in front of him, stepped aside, and touched him—again on the neck, below and behind the ear, muttering, "Dyna ben!"
Stover, who had been staring at Blanche with red-rimmed, burning eyes, roared like a beast freed from confinement and leapt forward. His mad rush knocked Ladbroke to the ground, and he seized on Blanche with a grip that drew a scream from her. He could have killed her in that moment, but killing was not enough to sate the pain and hatred that had been churning and building in him all day and all night.
Aurelia had followed Stover. Almost salivating with eagerness to absorb Blanche's agony and terror, to sate her need for vengeance and drink in power, she drew close to watch Stover beat, mutilate, and kill the maid.
Ladbroke began struggling to his feet. His movement distracted Aurelia; then she took on an expression more like a rictus than a smile, and she raised a hand to stop his heart.