This Scepter'd Isle (19 page)

Then he wavered on his feet, clutching at Boleyn and Bryan for support. Oh, Dannae! If Norfolk put that cold iron cross into a hurried and ill-made changeling's hands, it might dissolve into dust and mist.

Horrible as the thought was, it was also an instant comfort. If Harry had suffered no damage from receiving the cold iron cross—even if the simulacrum was so well made that it would not dissolve, it would be horribly burnt by the iron—Harry was truly the human boy, not a changeling. Any sign of harm to the child would have sent a troop of Norfolk's men after Lord Denno and there had been nothing, not even a message canceling his proposed visit the next day.

"Hold steady, man," Bryan urged as Denoriel sagged against him.

"Time to get Denno back to his bed," Boleyn said.

Mentally Denoriel thanked the goddess for his momentary weakness and gladly allowed his friends to steer him to the front of the Spanish embassy and signal urgently for Bryan's carriage. Bryan hesitated as they were about to climb in to ask if Denoriel was about to be sick, but he assured them he had only been dizzy momentarily. They watched him warily for a few minutes, but by the time they were turned around and on The Strand headed east, they relaxed, no longer fearing they would have to open a door and hold his head outside.

Convinced that Denoriel was not about to spew, George—his residual drunkenness making him stubborn—reverted to the question of Denno having fought the two victims. It was clear to Denoriel that the pair would never let him out of the carriage at his house by St. Thomas's church if he did not satisfy them. And since the king must already have received Norfolk's report of the attack and so many others knew of it already, he told them the whole story about seeing the open postern gate, going in, hearing FitzRoy calling for help, fighting off the two attackers, and their escape.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Boleyn looked back over his shoulder at where they had come from, although the Spanish embassy was long out of sight. "And now," he said, "one's dead and the other will not be telling any tales. And left on Perez's doorstep. Probably that means he didn't kill or maim them, but I suspect he had something to do with the attack on FitzRoy . . . I mean, Richmond. And leaving his tools at his house dead and mindless was a warning to him." Boleyn looked sick, and yet avid at the same time. "Torture, maybe. I've heard it said that the Inquisitors know tortures that will wring a man's soul from his body, but leave no mark. Mayhap the magician failed—and his masters have left him a warning."

Bryan burst out. "God's Death! Why should anyone want to hurt Richmond? He's no more than five years old—"

"Six," Boleyn said, "and a very nice, clever child."

"So?" Bryan persisted.

"So, m'father says—and you know he's in the king's confidence—that Henry's feeling out the nobles and trying to nerve himself to name the boy his heir." Boleyn shrugged. "There's reason enough for you."

Bryan shook his head. "Oh, I know that. Everyone knows that. But what if Henry does name Richmond heir? There's years and years for the king to change his mind."

"Not if he marries Mary to a French prince."

Francis Bryan let out a long, low whistle. "Damn Wolsey, that must be his idea. He's the one who wants to cozy up to the French. I didn't think about that. And he's had the French ambassador here looking the princess over, listening to her play her music. You're right, George. If Wolsey gets Mary married to a French prince, Henry will move heaven and earth
not
to have her come to the throne. The thought of a Frenchman ruling England would make him turn over in his grave."

"Doesn't want a Spaniard ruling in Mary's name either," George Boleyn pointed out, then looked at Denoriel. "You did us all a favor, Denno."

Denoriel shook his head. "I only wanted to protect the boy. I've got quite fond of him."

"He's a nice boy," George Boleyn repeated, "but there's no reason you shouldn't profit a bit from being a hero." He poked Francis Bryan who was nodding off in his corner of the carriage. "We're going boating with Henry tomorrow, aren't we, Francis? Don't you think the king ought to know
exactly
what happened?"

"Norfolk'll have to report it," Bryan mumbled. "Sounds to me as if half the servants and guards at Windsor know."

"Wake up, Francis!" Boleyn said, poking him again. "Of course Norfolk will report the attack, but how much credit do you think Denno will get for the rescue, eh?"

"Please," Denoriel said, "I don't need any credit. Especially if it will annoy Norfolk. I've . . . ah . . . made a friend quite close to Windsor, and it suits me very well to be able to claim I've come to the area to visit Richmond."

"A friend eh? Now who—"

"Oh, no," Denoriel said, forcing a laugh as the coachman slowed the horses when they passed St. Thomas's. "No guesses about my friend. Luckily here is where I leave you. Thank you for the ride, Francis. And for heaven's sake
don't
come calling or send messages before noon. I won't be awake."

He slipped out of the carriage before they could protest, and gave the coachman a signal to move on. And he managed to walk indolently toward his door trying to look tired and just a little drunk, in case they looked back at him. Inside he galloped right through a large reception room into a smaller, more private sitting room behind it. This had a discreet door at the back, almost invisible in the paneled wall, which was locked by magic. It swung open under his hand into a handsome, if small, stable with two stalls and a tack room.

That door was also locked by magic, and the side wall of the room was bare wood. Denoriel walked right through it, caught his breath, and was at the Gate in Elfhame Logres. A mental cry brought Miralys and he leapt into the saddle, picturing the exit Gate at Windsor.

Sensing his need, the elvensteed covered the mile to Windsor in moments, and Denoriel dismounted at the postern gate, opened the magic lock, and entered the garden with the pond. Miralys took himself to the copse right across the road to wait. Denoriel did not bother to waste magic on changing his clothing. He was dressed lavishly for the embassy affair and he did not expect to be seen anyway. As he ran through the garden, he gathered what power he could from the general ambience, hoping he would not need to sear his channels with the mortal world ley lines.

At the gate to the pond garden, Denoriel paused and looked toward the palace. Two guards stood at the door. Denoriel cast the Don't-see-me spell and ran across the lawn to the place between the towers where the magicked window was. He climbed up, went through the window, and walked very softly out of that room and into the corridor.

There were two guards at Harry's door and both of them were wide awake. Denoriel sighed. He was glad and also annoyed. It would be necessary to put both guards to sleep because the Don't-see-me spell was not enough. If the door to Harry's apartment opened the guards were sure to raise an alarm, even if they didn't see him. The spell did permit him to walk right up to them, murmur the sleep spell under his breath, and touch each. He left them rigid as ramrods, standing at their posts although they saw and heard nothing. If anyone should pass in the hall, all would seem well . . . provided no one spoke to them and expected an answer.

Another two guards inside the room. Both turned toward the opening door and leveled halberds. Denoriel closed the door behind him, holding his breath, hoping they would think someone had opened the door, looked in, seen the threat and closed the door again.

"Who was that?" one whispered to the other.

"Don't know. Didn't see anyone."

Denoriel stood still, breathing as silently as possible. The guards lifted the halberds to rest, and Denoriel's hopes rose, but he had rejoiced too soon.

"I don't like that," the first guard said. "Nyle, go over and stand in front of the bedroom door. I'm going to ask Gerrit whether he opened the door and why."

That did it. Denoriel invoked the sleep spell and touched the guard just as he reached for the door. He covered the room in three long leaps and touched the second man before he realized it was taking a long time for the first to open the door. Then he had to cling to the doorframe to keep from falling. He was freezing and utterly hollow inside, drained so far that it was an effort to breathe. His vision was fading, but bright against the gray of dimming sight was a brilliant thread. Denoriel reached, drank it down, welcoming the searing shock.

Once Denoriel had made sure that the nurse would not wake, he approached the bed. Halfway there, he had to grit his teeth to force himself close enough to lift the bedcurtain. On the boy, the cross seemed to have even more power. He dared not touch Harry, but called softly to him until the boy turned and then sat up in the bed.

"Put the cross into the pouch," he whispered. "The cold iron hurts me."

Rubbing his eyes, but unquestioning, the boy did as he was told. For some reason that made Denoriel's guts lurch, but he didn't try to examine his anxiety at the moment. His mind was fixed on the unpleasant explanations he had to make. He dreaded telling the child about the need to wear the cross all the time and only put it into its pouch when he himself was near. But as soon as he said that, Harry looked at him with eyes that seemed much older than six and nodded. It was amazingly easy to explain about the use of the Iron Cross to FitzRoy.

"Evil fairies," he said. "I know about evil fairies. They're in all the stories too. As soon as Norfolk gave me the cross and said you had sent it, I knew. Do you think . . . is it because my father wants to make me his heir that the evil fairies are interested in me? Princes always have trouble with evil fairies and magicians."

"Likely," Denoriel said. He wouldn't lie to the boy.

Harry sighed. "I hope I never get to be a prince. But even if I do, you'll take care of me, won't you Lord Denno?"

"I'll do my best," Denoriel promised. "But you've got to watch out for yourself too. You have to wear the cross—you can wear it under your clothes so no one will ask why you're wearing an old iron cross every day. The only time you put it in the pouch is when I'm with you . . ."

As he said the words, Denoriel suddenly realized why his bowels had knotted when without a doubt Harry had put his cross away at his request. With a feeling of sick helplessness he saw that Harry's knowing him might be a fatal trap. His half-brother Pasgen looked enough like him to be a twin. That semblance could get Pasgen past the guards at the palace gate, and Harry's own guards would be relaxed and careless.

Unfortunately Pasgen was a tool of Vidal Dhu. Denoriel did not believe that his half-brother would harm a child, but at Vidal's order, he would certainly replace that child with a simulacrum and carry the child off to Vidal's domain. If Harry saw Pasgen, he would assume it was Denoriel, put his cross away, and become completely vulnerable.

"There's one problem," Denoriel said, and then his voice faltered. He could not say his own brother was an evil fairy. "Evil fairies can put on a seeming. You mustn't put your cross away just because someone looks like me."

Harry's eyes widened and filled with moisture. "If I can't trust you . . ." he quavered.

"That part is easy," Denoriel said, sitting on the bed beside him and giving him a hug. "We'll have a secret signal. Before you put the cross into its pouch, you will say 'Where were you on Tuesday?' and I will say 'At the docks, looking for my ship,
The Nereid
.' "

"But what if it
is
Tuesday?" The boy's eyes had brightened at the idea of playing this game.

"Ah, then we need two more passwords. It's a very good idea to have two or three things to say so people won't hear you ask me the same question each time I come to see you."

"I know. I can say 'Is that a new sword?' and you can say 'No, it's the one I had the day your ship got broken.' "

"That's good, Harry!" Denoriel grinned as he offered the heartfelt praise. "If you ask if the sword is new, someone who doesn't know the game would probably say yes. And saying it was the day the ship got broken . . . Hey-a-day, that's wonderful. Everyone knows about the fight, but the ship getting broken was only important to you."

"One more," the boy said.

"Will you be able to remember them all?"

FitzRoy sighed and screwed up his face. "After all the lessons Master Croke sets me to learn by heart. Yes, I'll remember."

Denoriel laughed. "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that joy of childhood, learning lessons by rote. So, a third secret exchange . . . hmmm. Ask 'Which horse did you ride today, Lord Denno?' And I'll answer 'I rode Miralys.' I don't think anyone else knows the name of my horse"—Pasgen certainly did not know it—"so that will be safe."

FitzRoy grinned happily and repeated the three exchanges a couple of times. The last time, however, the smile disappeared from his face and his eyes rounded with worry again.

"But what do I do if the answer is wrong?" he asked.

"Leave the cross bare, be sure you stay far enough away so he can't grab you, but don't panic if he does because he'll let go right away—the cross will hurt him and he'll be surprised—and then you can run away."

"But if I run away from you . . . from someone who looks like you . . . I can't tell the guards it was an evil fairy, can I?"

Denoriel laughed. "No, you can't. Even if they didn't laugh, it would make them suspicious of me the next time I came. You can call back that your belly is grinding and you must go to the jakes . . . or any other excuse for leaving quickly. Then send down a message that you don't feel well and don't go out again."

FitzRoy thought that over, his face sober but no longer frightened. Denoriel was saddened. It wasn't right that a child should be so accepting of danger, so prepared to endure it. Mentally he cursed King Henry for endangering his son, and then laughed at himself. If Harry hadn't been involved in the succession, he would never have met the child. Had it been so short a time that he had railed at being a nursemaid?

"How will I let you know if the evil fairy comes?" the boy asked.