The Queen's Necklace (64 page)

Worst of all, at least for Trefallon, were the volatile moods of his
travelling companion. Up one day and down the next, Will's spirits seemed to fluctuate more often than the weather.

The world that he knew was passing away, and he felt responsible. The old ways had not been perfect, certainly, but at least they had been safe, predictable. Wilrowan had always scoffed at those of his friends who preferred a secure and settled life, but now he was finally learning its value—just when it seemed there was no safety left in the world for anybody.

When it looked like his search was about to be crowned with success, he was exalted. When he encountered another disappointment, his mood was savage. On the day it became obvious they had lost the scent entirely, Will and Blaise nearly came to blows.

But late one morning, they arrived in a tiny village on the banks of the Catkin. While Trefallon rode on to make the usual inquiries at a tumbledown tavern across the green, Will stopped off at the more respectable little inn, and walked right in on Lili and Sir Bastian eating breakfast in the coffee-room.

He stopped dead on the threshold, surprised by the violence of his own reaction. Though he had known from the beginning that Lili was not travelling alone, there was something in the sight of her sitting there so placidly, eating herrings and toast with another man, that made his blood burn.

But the savage mood passed. He walked quickly across the room, and bowed to Sir Bastian. “Sir,” he said coldly. “I believe that you owe me an explanation.”

Lili put out one hand, whether in greeting or in protest it was impossible to say. “No, Will, it is I who—”

But she got no further, as Will hauled her up out of her seat, wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, and buried his face in her hair. “You owe me nothing,” he answered fiercely. “Whatever
you
have done, no doubt I deserved it. But these other people—this
Sir Bastian of yours, and all your other Specularii magicians—they have no shadow of a right to place themselves between man and wife.”

He put her gently aside. “I repeat, sir. You owe me an explanation, and I am still waiting here, impatient to receive it.”

Sir Bastian rose from his seat. “It is possible, Captain Blackheart, that I have been misinformed as to your character. Your sentiments, at least, are well expressed, and your demeanor toward your wife impresses me favorably.” A slight frown creased his broad high forehead. “But it seems that I need not tell you why Lilliana and I are here. You have been deceived, it is true, but in a good cause. I should tell you, however, that Mrs. Blackheart wished to include you from the very beginning.”

Moving out of Will's embrace, Lili turned to Sir Bastian. “Sir, we ought to include him
now
. It's perfectly absurd to continue on as we have, considering how much Wilrowan knows already.”

The old gentleman nodded, though a trifle reluctantly. “Things have reached such a desperate pass, these last weeks,” he said with a sigh, “I fear that we mustn't be too particular in choosing our allies.”

A mocking smile passed over Will's face; he bowed ironically. “Someday, Sir Bastian, I hope to be able to return that compliment.”

Yet the tension in the room relaxed just a little. At Lili's insistence they all three sat down around the table, where she poured out some bitter blackberry-leaf tea for Wilrowan and refilled Sir Bastian's cup.

“I trust, Captain Blackheart, that you did not find the accommodations in Hoile—too confining?” the old gentleman asked, as he passed Will a plate of slightly charred toast.

Will gave a start of surprise. “They were not in the least to my taste,” he answered, automatically accepting the plate and laying it down on the table in front of him. “Am I to assume, sir, that you are the one I should thank for my imprisonment?”

Lili set down the chipped china teapot so hard and so suddenly the lid rattled. “Imprisonment? What are you—”

But Wilrowan ignored her, intent on Sir Bastian. “I was told that it was a
lady
who presented the warrant.”

Lili's mentor took a small sip of tea. Then he took a bite of burnt toast, chewed it, and swallowed it before he answered. “They say that money talks. It may also, on occasion, prevaricate. Are you surprised to learn that the constable in Hoile was induced to lie to you?”

“Not at all.” Will raised his cup to his lips, blew on the tea in order to cool it. “Had you paid him enough, I expect he would have strangled me in my sleep. But I certainly wonder why you wanted to deceive me.”

“I thought it might serve to discourage you if you thought Lilliana was responsible. I see now that it probably had the opposite effect. My congratulations, Captain Blackheart. I never supposed you would be able to overtake us after such a serious setback.”

Things went more pleasantly after that, and they were all eating an amicable breakfast when Blaise came in, expecting to report his failure at the tavern. Taking in the situation at a glance, Trefallon nodded to Sir Bastian, kissed Lili's hand, and slipped into a seat beside Will.

“Had I known you would find them here, I would never have left you alone,” he said under his breath. “You surprise me, Will. This is exceedingly civilized. I would have expected a cutting of throats all around.”

After breakfast, they hired a private parlor, where they could speak confidentially. It was a small room at the back of the house, with a view of the yard below. Sir Bastian and Blaise took chairs, while Lili and Will sat down together on a window-seat.

Wilrowan took her hand and held it tightly, while Lili spoke. He was surprised to learn that she and Sir Bastian were no longer in
pursuit of the Maglore woman. “It appears,” said Lilliana, “that she passed the Chaos Machine to a fellow conspirator. And though we hear of him in practically every place we visit, he always seems to know that we are coming, and invariably leaves just an hour or two before we arrive.”

“But just what does this fellow conspirator look like?” asked Will, staring moodily down at his boots. That Lady Sophronispa had carried the Chaos Machine so far only to hand it on to somebody else struck him as exceedingly odd.

“A gentleman of forty or thereabouts,” said Sir Bastian. “He has a smooth tongue and an affable manner, which endears him to innkeepers, hostlers, and waiters, in every place that he goes.”

Will glanced up. “A gentleman, you say, and not a Goblin? You are certain he is not one of these resurrected Maglore—or even a Wryneck or Grant?”

“We are moderately certain,” Sir Bastian answered. “He is travelling under diplomatic credentials, which seems unlikely for a Goblin. We did rather wonder if he might not be
you
in disguise—except that he had been described as considerably taller.”

“And except, of course, for the affable manner,” Blaise said under his breath, remembering the weeks just past, with all their tempests and tantrums.

Lili's mentor smiled grimly. “As you say. No doubt this man's affability does much to smooth his way, but there is no reason to suppose he would hesitate to abandon it, if he were cornered.

“If and when we run him to earth, he is likely to prove just as dangerous as the female.”

W
ill woke in the middle of the night, and Lili was no longer pressed against his side. Reaching out blindly, he realized that her half of the bed was empty. “Lili!” he said sharply, into the darkness.

There was a soft sound of movement on the other side of the room. “I'm here, Will. Did I startle you?” The words were followed by a rattle, as she unlatched and opened a pair of shutters. A moment later, the room was flooded with moonlight.

A curiously wavering moonlight, soft and shadowy. Dark feathers appeared to be falling past the window. With a shock, Will suddenly understood that it was snowing.

Lili appeared at the foot of the bed, very pale in her white nightdress, with a length of grey woolen shawl wrapped around her. “I couldn't sleep, and now I know why.” She opened her hand so that Will could see the lump of cloudy crystal she held in her palm. There was a shrill sound in the room, like a piece of glass vibrating; as Lili moved around to his side of the bed, Will felt the smoke-colored stone in his own intaglio ring begin to resonate.

“The Chaos Machine is moving across country again.”

“It has moved in the last few hours, yes,” said Lili. “But that doesn't
account for such a strong fluxuation in the magnetic currents. Either someone has made a mistake—or they deliberately court disaster, by bringing two of the Goblin Jewels into close proximity.”

A sudden blaze of light flashed outside and peal after peal of thunder rocked the entire building. The beams overhead shivered; the walls creaked. The floor under Lili's feet shook so violently, it was almost impossible to keep her balance. Will reached out and pulled her onto the bed with him. Gradually, the shaking and the clatter died down.

“Thunder—in the midst of a snowstorm?” he asked, just before another peal sounded, and the building rattled again with the shock. “Or was it an earthquake?”

“Thunder, I think.” There was another flash and another rumble, but more distant this time; the storm seemed to be passing. “Though I've never heard anything like it before. Not—not a natural phenomenon, that much is certain.”

Lili climbed out of the bed, clutching at the post in order to steady herself. “You should get dressed and find Blaise and Sir Bastian, while I pack up our things. We ought to leave as soon as possible. This may be our very best opportunity to overtake the Jewel.”

Will nodded wordlessly and slipped out of the bed. Throwing on his clothes, he was out of the room in two minutes, and halfway down the corridor—where he all but collided with Blaise, already booted and spurred, coming to meet him. A moment later, they were joined by Sir Bastian.

“I have been restless,” said the old gentleman. “I thought that something was about to happen, and my bags are already packed. I will see to the horses and the carriage, and meet the rest of you by the stables.”

While Will went off to wake the landlord and pay what was owed him, Blaise went back to his room to pack. In half an hour they were down in the inn yard, impatient to be off.

The horses had already been saddled and bridled, but they were shivering and snorting, dancing with excitement, held under control only by the combined concentration of the two magicians. Blaise tossed the baggage into the barouche, and Will helped Lili to climb in after them. She sat on the seat, muffled up in her cloak, while Sir Bastian took his place on the box. The snow had stopped falling, it was already melting, and light from the stables reflected off the wet cobblestones.

A sleepy hostler lit two lanterns, one for the carriage and one for Wilrowan to carry. Then Will and Blaise mounted in a trice, Sir Bastian took up the reins, and the whole party went careering off into the night.

They travelled through the cold hour before dawn, on past sunrise, and into the afternoon: bowling down the long winding roads that snaked across the mud-flats of northern Catwitsen; fording the broad, shallow Catkin and the chocolate-brown Windle; stopping only when the horses needed to be watered and rested, or when Lili or Sir Bastian desired to take a bearing with her crystal or his pendulum.

At one o'clock, Lili caught her first hint of the sea, carried on a freshening breeze from the west. At two, Sir Bastian pointed out the first fiat-bottomed eel boats—half raft, half shanty—which were never seen more than a mile or two from the coast. At two-thirty, they entered the salt-crusted gates of the seaside town of Penmorva.

The streets were crowded with carriages, sedan-chairs, citizens, fishermen, merchants, and sailors, which made the going slow. But as they moved toward the harbor, as the briny scent of the ocean grew stronger and stronger, Lili felt her mouth grow dry and her heart begin to pound with excitement.

“We are closer, I think, than we have ever been before,” she said to Sir Bastian, as the barouche rattled down a narrow cobblestone lane between rows of brick warehouses. There was little traffic here,
but the way was so narrow, the old gentleman had all he could do to negotiate a passage. “Perhaps we could go more swiftly on foot. I almost feel as though I could reach out and touch—” Then the lane intersected with a dark alley. “To the right,” said Lili.

They found their way blocked by a gentleman's carriage, the horses left standing and unattended. Lili and Sir Bastian exchanged a triumphant glance. It was exactly like the carriage they had heard described at a dozen different inns between the border and the sea.

Leaving Sir Bastian behind with the horses, signaling to Will and Blaise who were riding behind, Lili was out of the barouche in an instant and edging past the other carriage. Somewhere inside one of the buildings backing on this alley, she knew she would find the Jewel. But which building? They all looked alike: tall brick warehouses, windowless, featureless, except for a line of heavy double doors, all barred shut. Then she caught a glimmer in the shadows at the far end of the alley, where one of the doors had been left slightly ajar, allowing a faint beam of light to escape.

Will caught up with Lili about ten feet from the open door. He reached into his coat pocket, drew out a pistol.

Lili put a hand on his arm. “No,” she whispered, directly in his ear. “Suppose that you were to fire, and you hit the Chaos Machine instead of the man who is carrying it?”

He nodded, put back his pistol, and reached for his rapier instead. He signaled to Blaise to do the same, then turned back to Lili. “Trefallon and I will go in first. We are—expendable, but you are not.”

Lili nodded reluctantly and fell back a step. Very cautiously, Will slipped between the double doors and disappeared from sight. Then it was Blaise's turn to vanish. Lili waited for a moment, listening for some signal whether to advance or to retreat, but when there was nothing, she followed Trefallon through the gap.