Taste of Treason (22 page)

Luke swallowed. “And the second?”

“To cast you into outer darkness, just as they did Kolby.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Luke stared at the Elemagus in silence, digesting this terrifying news.

“But surely other elemancers have bested them,” he said eventually.

Dufay steepled his fingers.

“My Parisian counterpart, Marc Benoit, has an effective spy network that runs throughout Europe. Sunderers have been in existence in one form or another for many centuries. From time to time, they are reenergized by contact with other groups, such as the Knights Templar and, we believe, the Spanish Inquisition. But for the main part they act alone and for their own ends.”

“Tell me about Master Verrall. I met him only a few times.”

“Kolby was my friend. He kept his doings a close secret but I knew he was working on something that would be a significant blow against the enemy. He died fighting them. He lost the battle, but he also lost his soul and wanders through time tormented by sunderers.”

“How do you know this, sir?”

“Elemagus Benoit had a dispatch from one of his spies. The informant was taken, but not before he had sent the message. When Custodes Tenebris perceive a major threat, they come together in a merge of minds called a phrenic constellation. Last year you defeated a powerful kaygin. They have marked you for destruction and eternal suffering at their hands, just as they did Kolby.”

Luke bit his lip and attempted to control his breathing. If this were to be his destiny, then so be it. No time for fear, only determination and action.

“I see,” he said in an even tone.

The Elemagus looked into his drink.

“I have never forgiven myself over Kolby’s death. I swear you will not perish unaided or alone as he did. Should you fall into their evil hands, they will not kill you quickly, but play with you, as a cat would torment a bird. The more desperate your struggles, the more they will torture you. Your calls to God for aid will only revitalize their energy. I must try to find a way to circumvent them.”

“Can’t Luke use the sentence of deliverance you taught me, sir?” Rob asked.

“That does not work for elemancers, lad.”

“Why?”

“Because they expect an elemancer to fight them with his or her magic and take precautions, but those precautions are not needed for ordinary folk, which gives you time to say the sentence should the need arise, because they will not be anticipating it.”

“They would expect me to invoke God’s help,” Luke interrupted.

“Aye,” Dufay replied.

“What would happen if I did not?”

Dufay gazed at Luke, his expression one of puzzlement.

“Surely if I did not struggle and pray, they would not only become weaker, expecting to feed on my fear, but they would also become enraged. Can we not use that energy to create a curtain between them and me? It need only last a few moments, enough time for me to summon the lords of light and be safely delivered to God.”

“Luke, that is a brilliant idea. Let me think.” Dufay paused, stroking his chin. “Yes, I believe we could make that work.”

Luke nudged Rob, ensuring that he kept his tone light. “And you, Master Panton. What do you think of this desperate situation?”

“You always tell me that the universe depends on balance, Luke. If so, then it seems to me that we must see this through and redress the balance. There is one thing I don’t understand. Why, if Nimrod wants ultimate power, does he not take over the King?”

“A fine question, Rob,” Dufay said and turned to Luke. “What would your answer be?”

Luke realized his logic was being tested and thought before he spoke.

“No nation would tolerate for long a King who sowed strife and discord in his own kingdom,” he began. “I imagine the sunderer would soon become bored. Much more pleasurable to put kingdoms at war with each other, and from what you tell us, sir, I begin to think that the aim of Custodes Tenebris is to plunge Europe into a devastating war where the only victors will be controlled by the sunderers.”

Dufay patted his shoulder.

“You have come a long way from the raw journeyman elemancer of last year. I think you are right. So, Master Panton, do you still wish to stay with Luke?”

“It is simpler for me, sir. Whilst they hold Alys, I care not about my body, still less my immortal soul. We know more about our enemy, true, but it changes nothing.”

“I agree,” Luke replied, exchanging grim nods with Rob. “We fight on. I assume Nimrod is a member of this phrenic constellation?”

“I am sure of it. I will do my utmost to help you though you know I am no warrior. My role will be to stay in the background, but never think that you are alone. This is more than a fight between good and evil. I believe it to be a confrontation between God and Satan.”

“That is why the Bibles were so effective. If Master Dufay speaks true, lad, you saved me last night.”

“Had I listened to you as I should, that thing would never have got to me,” Rob muttered.

“So we both learned a lesson.” Luke clapped Rob on the back. “Now, you go about your duties with a smiling face and I will visit Master Quayne and Mistress Bertila to see if their health improves.”

Dufay sat forward, his face alert. “Mistress Bertila? Is she ailing?”

“Ah, that is one piece of news I have not yet had time to tell you. It is a sorry tale and has many questions attached to it that may well concern my investigation.”

Luke watched Dufay’s face grow more pinched and pale as he recounted the ordeals that Corbin and Bertila had suffered. When he had finished, Dufay made no response and Luke could not restrain himself from asking the question burning on his lips.

“Sir, I can see that the news of my friends affects you deeply but I do not understand why.”

The Elemagus sat shaking his head slowly from side to side.

“This is all my doing,” he said.

“How so?”

“We strive for the balance, Luke. Mistress Bertila has a beautiful nature. It seemed so natural to make her face blemish-free, but it was arrogant of me to trample on God’s will, and instead of punishing me, the chastisement has been visited on the Quaynes.”

“Sir, you speak in riddles. How can this be your fault? The responsibility is Frayner’s.”

Dufay leaned across the table and grasped Luke’s arm.

“Do you think they are still in danger from this priest?”

“He has sworn vengeance on all three of us.”

Dufay leapt to his feet.

“Then I must not tarry. Should you have need of me for the rest of the day, Luke, I shall be with Master Corbin.”

“What about the threat to the Queen?”

Dufay turned at the door, his face pale and agitated.

“If you have need of me, I will come, but you and Her Grace should well be able to safeguard the Queen.”

Luke and Rob sat staring as the door closed behind him.

“Seems to me, Master, that I am not the only one stricken.”

“Do not talk nonsense. Master Dufay suffers natural feelings of guilt. He made Bertila’s scar disappear, an act of kindness, and by doing so left her at the mercy of a miscreant like Frayner. That is all.”

Rob grinned. “Aye, Master. ’’Course it is.”

“Go and dabble in the ashes and make some soap, boy, and when you have, wash your mouth out with it.”

Rob went to do his bidding, a huge grin splitting his face. Luke sat and considered the strange behavior of the Elemagus. Surely Rob could not be right? Why, Dufay was at least twenty years older than Bertila. And plenty of matches took place with that age gap, his mind replied. Nay, it had to be something else. Guilt, it must be guilt. Guilt, pure and simple. Dufay had acted out of compassion and the result had brought pain and trouble down on Corbin and Bertila. Master Dufay was angry with himself, nothing more, nothing less.

One good thing had come out of the Elemagus’s headlong rush to the Quayne house. Luke need not worry about his friends now. Dufay could protect them, leaving him to concentrate on clarifying the role Frayner played in this tangle. It was all very well to be certain in his own mind that the priest was Nimrod, but that was not proof.

He assumed the Queen was still wherever Anne Boleyn had hidden her. It would be a sound notion to speak to the latter, and he ought to question Gwenette about her ordeal. He went upstairs, grinning at Rob struggling to separate the white ash from the previous day’s fire and throw it in the pot of boiling water. Much as Rob knew of Luke’s skills, it was still wiser to carry out some spells in private and this was one of those. Within moments, he was speaking to Queen Anne and gained her permission to come to the royal apartments.

* * *

When Luke pulled back the velvet curtain hanging over the door to the secret passage, Queen Anne was attended only by Gwenette who sat on a cushion at her feet looking pale and tired. After bowing, Luke hurried over to his friend.

“You should be resting, Mistress Paige. I was worried when I did not find you in the chapel.”

Grace said nothing, but a wan smile warmed her features.

“There is no need for concern, Master Ballard. We look after our own,” the Queen Mother said.

“I did not think anything else, Madam.” He turned back to Gwenette. “Do you feel up to a few questions?”

Gwenette’s already ashen face grew even paler.

“I am not ready to revisit last night. It is too confused, and when I try, my fear overwhelms me.”

After a glance at the Queen Mother, Luke seated himself on the floor beside Gwenette.

“You do not need to talk of that. I believe that there is something I have missed, something from earlier.”

“What?”

“I have no notion. I believe that our enemy has tried to distract us by recreating the plagues of Egypt.”

“You mean it isn’t the plagues?”

“I spoke to Alys Palmer. It was she and not Edith Brook who was ordered to prepare the Queen’s bath.”

Gwenette looked at him in confusion. “I do not see what difference it makes.”

“It makes all the difference in the world, Gwenette.”

Queen Anne leaned forward. “Of course it does. The first plague was the river turning to blood. The Brook girl represented the river, so if she was not meant to prepare the bath, then the plagues notion falls to the floor.”

Luke turned and nodded. “Precisely.”

They both looked at Gwenette.

“Do not ask me,” she said. “I have no idea.”

“But you were there.”

“How does that help?”

“You know what happened, who came in and out and the order of events, even if you cannot remember.”

“Of course,” Queen Anne said again. “Gwenette, even if you do not think you can remember what happened, you could still tell us if you trust us to look after you.”

Luke took Gwenette’s hand.

“My friend, we need to know and you are the only one, save Alys, who can tell us.”

She gazed at him with troubled eyes, but Luke saw trust in them, too.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

“The Mnemosyne spell. It won’t hurt and we will both be here to protect you. Because the action is in the past, nothing can harm you.”

Gwenette took a few moments to consider. “And you think this will help you stop the threat to the Queen?”

“Aye.”

“Very well. What must I do?”

“Look at me, Gwenette. What color are my eyes?”

“Blue as a summer sky,” the other answered in a soft tone.

“Gaze deep into the depths of them. Listen to my voice.”

Luke continued to talk in a soothing, even tone and gradually Gwenette’s eyes closed. He looked at Queen Anne and she nodded.

“Can you hear me, Gwenette?”

“Yes, Luke.”

“Your mistress gave you an enormous pearl to take to the Queen. Do you remember?”

“Aye. It was wondrous large with a luster I have never seen equaled.”

“You are standing outside the door to the Queen’s apartments and have told the yeomen that Queen Anne has sent you. What happens next?” Luke glanced at the Queen Mother as Gwenette continued.

“When I enter, Her Grace is slumped in her chair. I suspect that the babe is making her uncomfortable. She has just snapped at one of her ladies and caused her to weep. Then she sees me and the box I carry. I explain that I bring a gift from my mistress. Queen Madeleine’s face lights up with the curiosity of a child. ‘At least some people have my best interest at heart,’ she says.

“‘Why, Your Grace, who has not?’ I ask.” Gwenette paused. “At first, I think from her sudden scowl that I have transgressed the boundaries of etiquette, but it is not so.

“‘I ordered my bath long ago, but it is not yet ready,’ she says.

“I turn to the weeping lady and ask the reason for the delay.” Gwenette paused again and her voice changed to a high thready tone as she reproduced the lady-in-waiting’s answer.

“‘The bath is Mistress Sarah’s duty, but she is stricken with a quinsy and we dare not let her near the Queen. We think Her Grace should wait until the warmth of day so the baby is not harmed.’”

Gwenette fell silent for a few moments as if the pictures she saw in her mind had blurred. Luke reinvigorated the spell and once more, she took up the tale.

“The Queen is angry. She beats her clenched fist on the arm of the chair. ‘We do not want to wait,’ she says. ‘We wish to be fragrant for our lord and now we wish to be fragrant and wear our new gift.’”

Gwenette hesitated and frowned and Luke realized she was close to the end of her energies.

“You are nearly there, Gwenette. Just a moment longer. Take a deep breath and look again.”

Her voice, when it came, was slower, as if she was already half-asleep.

“I turn to the ladies and tell them not to run around like squawking hens, but hurry and do Her Grace’s bidding.”

“Do they obey?” Luke asked.

“There is a short pause. They stare at me as if I have spoken in a strange tongue. Then they all turn on a small child and began shouting at her to make haste and prepare the bath.”

“And the child is Alys?”

“Aye.”

Gwenette’s eyes were still closed and Queen Anne signaled Luke to end the spell. He stared at the face in front of him for a few moments before wiping his hands against each other and blowing dust as soft as thistledown in Gwenette’s face. She opened her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it.