Part 11 (1/2)

It gave him a sense of kins.h.i.+p with her, though. Neither one of us is half so polished as this place would like us to be. Neither one of us is half so polished as this place would like us to be.

”What is the idea?” Galen asked, and listened as Irrith summed it up. No one, to his knowledge, had suggested hiding from the Dragon; he had to admit the notion held some appeal. As for how to make it happen, though, he was forced to admit he had no more notion than she did.

Floundering for a starting point, he said, ”Don't fae have some means of hiding from mortals? Charms and the like?”

”Yes, but we aren't trying to hide from a mortal, are we?” Irrith gesticulated with the porcelain hound, and Galen spared a moment to hope she wouldn't throw it into a wall for punctuation. The piece was a gift from the French amba.s.sador, the faerie one-though in truth, Galen wouldn't miss it all that much.

What protected mortals against faerie-kind? Iron. Christian faith, whether expressed through prayer or church bells or other signs. But London was already armored with those-and besides, they didn't conceal conceal anything. anything.

Edward coughed discreetly. Galen looked up, ready to insist on just a few more minutes' delay, and found his servant had put aside the hat and shoes. ”Begging your pardon, sir, but I believe there's a way for mortals to hide from faeries. Dame Irrith-if a man turns his coat inside out, doesn't that give him a measure of invisibility?”

Her s.h.i.+fting green eyes went wide. Irrith stood, gaping, and then a grin split her face. ”You're a genius,” she announced. ”What's your name, anyway? Geniuses should have names.”

The servant gave her a shallow bow. ”Edward Thorne, ma'am.”

”Edward Th-” Curiosity flared to life. ”Are you Peregrin's son?”

A second, deeper bow. ”I have that honor, yes.”

”Hah! You're cleverer than your father, Mr. Thorne. Ask me sometime about when he first came to Berks.h.i.+re, the adventure he had with a milkmaid. Just don't ask when he's around.” Irrith bounced on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. ”Inside-out clothes! I should have thought of that.” Her face fell as she turned to Galen. ”But London isn't wearing any clothes.”

He didn't have an answer to that, but Edward had at least given him a notion of what advice to offer. ”Her Majesty may have instructed you to make this happen, Dame Irrith, but I doubt she meant you must do it on your own. May I suggest recruiting help? Others may have useful suggestions, which you can coordinate into a proper plan.”

Irrith wrinkled her nose at him. ”Do I look coordinated to you?”

”You are a model of grace.”

”That isn't what I meant, as you well know,” Irrith said, but she colored a little. Galen had spoken the words in jest, but they were also true; she moved like a young fox, with natural rather than studied elegance.

Edward had picked up the shoes and hat again. Galen sighed and beckoned him forward. ”I have every confidence you can make this happen, Dame Irrith, and it may do us crucial good. If time in the Calendar Room would aid your thoughts, I'm sure her Grace will approve it. In the meantime, I must beg your forgiveness, but-”

She was nodding before he finished. ”Right. Sorry I kept you. But this helped a lot.”

”I'm glad,” he said, settling the hat upon his head. ”Let me know if I can be of further use.”

The Onyx Hall, London: April 6, 1758 Ktistes might have been a statue of a centaur, his hooves planted foursquare on the gra.s.s, looking off into the distance where several courtiers were chasing each other around a fountain. Their giggles and false shrieks of surprise made Irrith want to bellow at them to be quiet, but she had no illusions as to the weight her knighthood carried. Even if she told them she was trying to save their frivolous little lives.

”Difficult enough,” the centaur finally said, ”to hide London. The City itself, within the walls, that could be done; it is only a square mile or so. Since that is the part reflected in the Onyx Hall, and the power of this palace is what the Dragon craves, it might be enough.”

Irrith shook her head. ”Do you really want to wager that it will will be? It's already burnt enough, Ktistes. I'm not going to let it do the same thing again.” be? It's already burnt enough, Ktistes. I'm not going to let it do the same thing again.”

He sighed, hooves s.h.i.+fting restlessly, breaking the illusion of the statue. ”Then will you hide the entire world? There are cities elsewhere, and faerie realms, too. You cannot be certain it will not strike the Cour du Lys, or my brethren in Greece, or folk in lands you've never heard of. Folk who are not prepared.”

”It might,” she admitted. That was the worry that, as the mortals said, kept her awake at night-or would, if she slept. The nervous intensity of Galen and all the rest had infected her, making sleep a luxury for later. ”I don't think it will, though.”

The centaur rarely wasted words; he merely studied her patiently, awaiting an explanation.

Biting her lip, Irrith said, ”You never saw it, Ktistes. I did. I was there when it tried to eat the Onyx Hall. After it's eaten London, it will turn somewhere else-all those other places you named. Because it can never eat enough. But it won't move on until it has this this place.” It had the scent-or rather the taste-like a bloodhound. And it needed no huntsman to chivvy it on. place.” It had the scent-or rather the taste-like a bloodhound. And it needed no huntsman to chivvy it on.

”Then as I said before: you need not cover the entire island.”

She grinned. It was better than showing her uncertainty. ”Well, I don't want to bet it wouldn't gobble up Oxford on its way to London. Better not to let it get a foothold, right?” The grin faded, though she tried to hold on to it. ”Never mind the scale. Help me figure out how how to do this, and then we can argue over whether it can be done so widely. What counts as clothes?” to do this, and then we can argue over whether it can be done so widely. What counts as clothes?”

Ktistes lifted one hand, letting the quaking leaves of an aspen trail over his fingers. ”What clothes the land,” he murmured to himself.

Then his horse part swung around sharply, so that he faced his pavilion. A dazzling smile split his face. ”There is your answer, Dame Irrith.”

She stared. ”Your... pavilion?”

”Buildings! Towns. Houses, and churches, and all the things mortal kind has built upon the face of the land. Do they not clothe its nakedness?”

Irrith blinked once, then a second time. Her voice seemed to have gone missing. When she found it again, it came bearing words. ”You want... to turn London... inside out. inside out.”

Ktistes paused, hands in midair, where he had swept them in a grand gesture. ”How would that be done?” he mused. The note in his voice was pure curiosity, a clever mind given something to play with. ”The Onyx Hall-but no, this place is not the inside of London, and to put it 'outside' would only deepen our problems. Perhaps an earthquake, though, to open the buildings themselves? We caused two some years ago, quite by accident, but if we arranged one deliberately-”

”Then it would destroy London destroy London,” Irrith said. ”And every other town you want to hide. Ktistes, the idea is to prevent prevent destruction.” destruction.”

His face fell. After a moment, so did his hands. ”True,” he admitted. The powerful centaur briefly sounded like nothing so much as a little boy, chastised by his mother. ”I did not think of that.”

This is why Lune has a Prince. The thought flew out of nowhere and lodged in Irrith's mind like an arrow. Ktistes was Greek, and had spent most of his life somewhere in that Mediterranean land; the differences between him and the English fae were many. In the final weighing, however, he had more in common with Irrith than Galen. They might hover on the fringes of mortal places, drinking the intoxicating wine of mortal pa.s.sions, but that was not the center of their world, the first thing their minds went to; human life, human society, was an afterthought. The thought flew out of nowhere and lodged in Irrith's mind like an arrow. Ktistes was Greek, and had spent most of his life somewhere in that Mediterranean land; the differences between him and the English fae were many. In the final weighing, however, he had more in common with Irrith than Galen. They might hover on the fringes of mortal places, drinking the intoxicating wine of mortal pa.s.sions, but that was not the center of their world, the first thing their minds went to; human life, human society, was an afterthought.

That was why Lune kept at her side a man for whom it was the first first thought. However much effort she devoted to considering mortal needs, there would always be these moments, when they slipped from her mind. As they had slipped from Ktistes's. And only a mortal could be trusted to always do as Irrith had done this once, and catch the Queen when she slipped. thought. However much effort she devoted to considering mortal needs, there would always be these moments, when they slipped from her mind. As they had slipped from Ktistes's. And only a mortal could be trusted to always do as Irrith had done this once, and catch the Queen when she slipped.

The centaur was still thinking, oblivious to Irrith's distraction. One front hoof tapped a restless beat against the ground. Does he miss galloping? Does he miss galloping? Irrith wondered. The night garden was large, but nothing like the open gra.s.s of Ktistes's land. Or did he, as a learned centaur, live so much in his own mind that it hardly mattered where he made his home? Irrith wondered. The night garden was large, but nothing like the open gra.s.s of Ktistes's land. Or did he, as a learned centaur, live so much in his own mind that it hardly mattered where he made his home?

Maybe that was why she'd thought to stop him, when he spoke of earthquakes in London. The prospect of losing her home-either of them-horrified her to the depths of her faerie soul.

”We'll think of something,” she said. Perhaps she should take Galen up on his offer of the Calendar Room? The thorough shudder that followed the possibility was answer enough. Locking herself in the same room as that clock, for days on end... fae were capable of madness, in their own way. She had no desire to experience it herself.

”I will continue to ponder,” Ktistes said, still repentant.

So would Irrith. But not here, with all these black shadows stifling her spirit. The Queen had commanded her to find a solution to this puzzle; surely that would be good for squeezing a bit of bread out of the royal stone.

If she was to turn London inside out, she would have to go study it in person.

London below and above: April 9, 1758 Irrith could not quite believe her ears when the Queen told her to go ask the Lord Treasurer.

She had enough experience of the Onyx Court to know that Lune, like England's mortal rulers, surrounded herself with a circle of people who were both advisers and deputies, dealing with various matters so the Queen herself didn't have to. Wayland did the same thing, though without the fancy t.i.tles and so on. But Irrith thought she'd heard of them all, and the Lord Treasurer had been nowhere on the list.

It seemed, however, that the problem of t.i.thed bread was serious enough that Lune had taken the precaution of appointing someone to oversee it: what came in through the Onyx Court's trade with other lands, who it was paid out to, and-as much as anyone could track this-what happened to it after that. Trade wasn't the only source of bread, of course; some fae kept mortals on a string just to provide them with a regular t.i.the. And all of it, regardless of source, was h.o.a.rded, wagered, gifted, stolen, used as bribes, and given over in underhand deals, before eventually being eaten; attempting to record those transactions was nothing short of madness.

”Come to think of it,” Irrith said to the clerk behind the desk, ”Ktistes told me a story once, of a fellow d.a.m.ned to roll a stone forever up a hill... have you heard it?”

The clerk, an officious little wisp of a thing, was unimpressed. ”I do as her Grace and the Lord Treasurer bid me. At the moment, they have given me no orders concerning the disburs.e.m.e.nt of bread to you. But if you would like to present your case to my master-”

”I would.” It came out through Irrith's teeth. Mab have mercy: they're treating it like coin. Mab have mercy: they're treating it like coin. Irrith had always thought secrets the most valuable currency in the Onyx Hall, but it seemed that was changing, as the mortal world did its best to shake off the faerie superst.i.tions of its past. Irrith had always thought secrets the most valuable currency in the Onyx Hall, but it seemed that was changing, as the mortal world did its best to shake off the faerie superst.i.tions of its past.

She presented her case to the Lord Treasurer, who surprised her by being a stolid, methodical dobie named Hairy How. Most of the officers of Lune's court were elfin types, but she supposed that when it came to careful bookkeeping, a hob was ideal. This one seemed more sensible than your common dobie-too sensible, in fact. Convincing him was none too easy. But the magic key word of Dragon, Dragon, combined with a believable explanation for how her use of bread could benefit the court, finally talked him around, and he commanded the clerk to give her a week's worth. combined with a believable explanation for how her use of bread could benefit the court, finally talked him around, and he commanded the clerk to give her a week's worth.