The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (12 page)

    "Your duty should come before your people," said Altair.

    "I fulfilled my duty. You were unharmed. The High Court survived intact."

    "May I remind you that Altair is our brother," said Krane, leaning forward in his chair, "and that he has never offered harm to any of us. His quarrel is with the Tainted, not with the Courts or with the Feyre."

    "Are you calling the half-breeds Tainted now too, my Lord?" asked Garvin.

    "A slip of the tongue." He dismissed it with a wave. "We have to call them something."

    "I call them people," said Garvin.

    "And Mishla, it is good to see you looking well," Altair said, changing the direction of the conversation.

    I wondered who he was referring to until Tate rumbled behind me, "Lord Altair." Since when was Tate called Mishla?

    "Do you have no word of welcome either?"

    Tate answered, "No."

    "Am I safe here?" Altair appealed to the other members of the court. "Will I be protected if some renegade tries to kill me?"

    "The Warders will do their job, Altair," said Barthia, her tusks gleaming in the dim light. "We can ask no more of them."

    "Even though the Tainted are among their ranks?" asked Altair. "I would have thought that the conflict of interest is apparent even to Garvin."

    "There is no conflict of interest, Lord Altair," said Garvin. "Lady Barthia is right. We are the Warders and we'll do our job."

    "Very well," said Altair. "I see that I must trust you and your Warders as I always have. Better than that, I will make a gesture. You may assign your new Warder, the wraithkin, to me as a bodyguard while I'm here."

    "He's already on assignment," said Garvin, without missing a beat.

    "He's here, isn't he?"

    "He leaves tonight. He already has a mission. You may have another Warder to guard you. Mishla, perhaps?"

    "Do you refuse me protection from my own kind, Garvin?"

    "Is that protection from your own kind, or provided by your own kind?"

    "You know very well what I mean." A flavour of menace entered those mellow tones.

    "The assignment of the Warders has always been at the discretion of the head Warder, Lord Altair, as you are well aware," said Barthia.

    "Of course." Altair sat back and moderated his tone, acceding gracefully. "Whoever you prefer, Garvin. Make your choice." He waved his hand, negligently.

    "Mishla will be happy to ensure your safety while you stay, then. He'll be at your disposal."

    "Is that acceptable, Mishla? Will you guard me?"

    "I will, Lord Altair," said Tate behind me. His voice was flat, without inflection.

    Lady Yonna spoke before Altair could make some further remark. "Altair is here for reconciliation talks, Garvin. We are exploring the possibilities of reuniting the courts. It would not be well if those negotiations were coloured by any unfortunate incidents."

    "There won't be any, Lady. May I ask if anyone accompanied you on your visit, Lord Altair? Is there anyone else who might be in danger of becoming involved in an unfortunate incident?"

    "There are two others here with me," said Altair. "I have asked Mullbrook if he would provide them with quarters near to my own."

    "Then I shall ensure that they are also provided with bodyguards to ensure their safety during their stay."

    "I'm sure they are quite capable of defending themselves."

    "With a Warder in attendance, there will be no need for anyone to defend themselves, I can assure you Lord Altair."

    "Very well, Garvin. As you say."

    "Thank you, Lord Altair. If that is all, Lords, Ladies, I have arrangements to make."

    "Will you leave Fionh with us, please, Garvin?" said Kimlesh, "She can bring word when the discussions are concluded."

    "Yes, Lady." Garvin held his fist over his heart and I copied his movement. Then he turned and nodded to Fionh before leading the rest of us back through the door. Fionh peeled off and stood beside the double doors while we filed through, closing them after us as we left the room.

    We marched back the way we had come.

    "What…?" I was about to ask what my assignment was, but Garvin held up his hand. We went silently until we were back in the training room and the doors closed behind us. For the first time, I noticed that there were no mirrors in the room.

    Garvin turned to the Warders. "Amber, Slimgrin, find the other visitors. Mullbrook should know where they are. Don't leave their side. I want to know where they go, what they do, who they talk to. Go now."

    They both clasped their hands over their hearts, turned and left.

    "Fellstamp, go and get some sleep. You'll rotate in eight hours. Keep the shoulder covered. You'll relieve Slimgrin, then Slimgrin will relieve Amber. Keep it rotating, twenty-four hours."

    Fellstamp clenched his fist over his heart, turned and left, leaving me with Tate and Garvin.

    "Tate, you'll do twelve and then I'll relieve you for six. I'll watch out for the Lords and Ladies and rotate with Fionh. We don't know how long the wraithkin are staying, but until they leave I want everything locked down. No one in, no one out. Except Niall."

    "Why me?"

    "You're leaving tonight. Tate, get field kit for Niall, please. Low profile."

    Tate placed his hand over his heart, turned and left.

    "What about Blackbird? I can't leave her with them here."

    "She's safer here than elsewhere. While Altair is on this side of the barrier they can bridge the gap. He can bring in others if he wants to. If she's elsewhere then she's isolated and they can pick her off at leisure. If she's here they'll have to go through one of us to get to her."

    "I could protect her."

    "If you stay, they will find a way to isolate and eliminate you. It will be an accident, or they'll say they were provoked. Frankly, your existence is enough to provoke them."

    "I'll stay out of the way. They won't know I'm here."

    "You're not listening. If they're here for peace negotiations then all is well and good. If there's peace, we all benefit. If they leave, even better. If they're not here for peace negotiations then why are they here? What could they want that's here? It's nearly solstice, Niall, the time of balance. Thanks to your efforts in restoring the barrier, this is one of the few times that they can cross from their world into ours. Once the solstice passes they will have to leave or be stranded here, so they have little time to achieve whatever they came for. Whatever that is, you can be sure they're not here by accident."

    "What if they're here to prevent Blackbird having the baby?"

    "If they touch Blackbird then they violate the truce. Blackbird is part of Yonna's court and she would demand blood price. That's a lose-lose. You, on the other hand, are a Warder. You're not part of anyone's court and you're in harm's way. You may even be the sole purpose for their visit."

    "Why me?"

    "You're a half-breed and a wraithkin. That's enough on its own. You restored the barrier, making it harder for them to cross into our world. You're a Warder. There hasn't been a wraithkin Warder since the night they left. All of that makes you a target. I'm just putting you out of harm's way, Niall. It's for your own good."

    "I'd rather stay."

    "It wasn't a request, Dogstar. You're a Warder. You'll go where you're sent."

    I started to protest, but he held up his hand. "I want you out of here by dawn. There's a fishing town on the north-east coast called Ravensby. There are disturbing reports – some are saying it's a rogue fey. None of the courts are claiming it, so it's ours. Go there and find out what's going on. Use the Warder's discretion. It should be right up your street."

    Warder's discretion – that meant: do whatever's necessary.

    "What do I do when I find out what's going on?"

    "Deal with it, but understand your limits. If you need

help, contact me and I'll send someone as soon as I can. Keep it low profile. I don't want anymore house fires."

    "That wasn't…"

    He just raised an eyebrow.

    I held my fist over my heart. "I'll go and tell Blackbird."

    "And lead them straight to her? No, you leave now. Tate will kit you out with what you need. I'll tell Blackbird as soon as there's an opportunity to do it discreetly. I want you out of here now before they can organise something."

    "I don't even have any clean underwear."

    "The Warders were never prevented from their duty by a lack of underwear, Dogstar. You have your mission."

    He stared at me until I clenched my fist over my heart again, accepting his orders. He nodded, sombrely. Tate returned with a plain black holdall.

    "What am I supposed to do when I get there?"

    "You'll know. Don't fail me. I have arrangements to make so I'll leave you in Tate's hands. Keep safe, Warder, and think before you act. No more accidents."

    I nodded and he patted me on the shoulder. I watched him walk across the room and close the door quietly behind him.

    "You're going to have your hands full," I said to Tate.

    Tate ignored my comment. "No mission for the Warders is ever simple or without danger. Watch your back. We don't know whether Altair will bring anymore of his cohort with him. We don't know what hazards are already there."

    "Will you look out for Blackbird for me?"

    "I'll do what I can. There'll be wards placed around her quarters. We'll know if they get close."

    "I don't like leaving her like this."

    "She survived for many years without you, Niall, remember that. She's no one's pushover."

    "She had her magic before."

    "Even so." He handed me a passport, an ID card, a wallet. "You are Neal Dawson, freelance journalist. You're looking for a story. It'll give you an excuse to poke your nose in other people's business."

    "I'm not a journalist, Tate, and you know I won't be able to lie about that."

    "It's just another label – like Niall, or Dogstar. Neal Dawson is a journalist. He's filed several stories in the last six months. A couple of them have made the national press. He's been paid for them. He's a member of the National Union of Journalists. He tends to write slightly off the wall, investigative pieces that dig into the facts – story behind the story, that type of thing. You're Neal Dawson. The fact that the stories were ghost-written for you is irrelevant."

    "They were written for me?"

    "The Warders need to be able to move around in the world, Niall. We all have our aliases, alternative identities. Yours was prepared for you months ago and it will be maintained for you as long as you serve. The stewards aren't just housekeepers, you know?"

    "I didn't know, no."

    "Preparation is key. Remember that."

    "Great. I don't even know what I'm looking for."

    "This one's been hanging around for a while, we just haven't had the opportunity to deal with it. It's right up your street."

    "That's what Garvin said. What does that mean?"

    "If he wanted me to tell you he'd have said so."

    "Ever loyal, eh, Tate?"

    "I follow orders. So should you. It'll keep you alive."

    "Why did Altair call you Mishla?"

    "It's my name."

    "I thought your name was Tate."

    "That's a nickname." He showed me the contents of the holdall: uniform, wash kit, underwear, all in my size.

    I refused to be distracted. "What kind of a nickname is 'Tate'?"

    "It's short for something. This is your codex. It shows the Way-points. If you're wise you'll ward it so no one else can read it."

    It was a small, leatherbound book with pages like tissue but made from something stronger. He showed me how the node-points were listed. Each page had a number in the top left corner with notes of what to expect when you reached that place. Sometimes there was a little sketch or a delicately coloured drawing of the site. Below were the page references for other node-points that could be reached from that point and where you might go from there. Tate took me through the journey I was about to make, showing me how the index worked and what to expect on the way.

    "There's space to add your own notes at the bottom of each entry. Take my advice, use a pencil. Things change."

    "Thanks." I took it from him. "So what's Tate short for?"

    He sighed. "The Decapitator."

    I was taken aback and he could see it.

    He opened the wallet, flicked through the money stuffed into it and handed it to me. "It was a long time ago," he said, "and I keep it as a reminder."

    "A reminder of what?"

    "If you're going to kill wraithkin you have to get in close. You get one chance or they have you. Tate is to remind me that I only have to get sloppy once and I'm dead."

    "You killed a wraithkin?"

    "More than one."

    "That must make you nearly as much of a target as me."

    "I'm a Warder. I do my job. Do yours." He thrust the bag into my hands.

    I took it from him and we walked out together towards the basement room where the node for the Way was. As we came out into the hallway, a familiar voice behind me called to me from behind.

    "Alshirian Dogstar, they tell me you are a Warder now."

    I stopped at the use of my formal court name and turned, suddenly conscious of the weight of the sword swinging from my hip. Walking towards me were two men, shadowed by Amber and Slimgrin. The first was taller, his hair dark and full like my own, but styled in a way that suggested Edwardian gentleman rather than assassin. His face was long, his cheeks carved like mine. In a room of strangers I would have picked him out as a cousin or an uncle, maybe. His smile was filled with warmth, but I knew he hid his feelings well.