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Chapter 40

Having led Rhoslyn into a small parlor, seated her, and asked whether she wanted food or drink, Denoriel listened carefully to the tale she told. She described her slow growing uneasiness, Mary's slight but significant change in character, her reluctance to approach the queen and the horror that had seized her when they touched by accident.

"There is an Evil growing within her. It is still weak, but it is growing stronger day by day," Rhoslyn finished. "We must do something, but what? What can we do?"

"First we need Hafwen," Denoriel said. "Not that I do not trust you, Rhoslyn, but she is an expert in judging evil." He hesitated, then shook his head impatiently. "No, first we need to get one of the tokens I made for Elizabeth. If you have that and can lay it by an outer wall in Mary's bedchamber, I can build a Gate right into the room. Then I can freeze everyone there, and bring Hafwen and whoever else we need through the Gate."

Tears rose to Rhoslyn's eyes. "But Denoriel, is there power enough to build a Gate from Underhill to Mary's chamber? And will the Gate be firm enough to let us all come through?"

"Yes," Denoriel said, his expression rather grim. "There is more than enough power in the mortal world. And for this purpose I can use it."

"Don't," Rhoslyn said. "Elizabeth will kill me—and do not tell me that she will not be able to reach me. If harm comes to you through me, Elizabeth will somehow tap the power she has within her, drive a path through to Underhill, and harrow Underhill until I am butchered meat."

The grimness went out of Denoriel's expression as he grinned. That was his Elizabeth! A moment later he was sober again. "You are sure?" he asked Rhoslyn. "This is not some evil growing in the queen's heart because she knows she has lost her husband for good?"

"No." The color drained from Rhoslyn's face. "When I touched her . . .  It was horrible . . . horrible. This was nothing of human hate or rage. This . . . it was like what had been in Alhambra before Harry and the elder Sidhe . . ."

Her voice drifted away and Denoriel watched fear and anguish chase each other in her expression. She clutched her arms around herself and began to shiver.

"Can it be that?" she whispered. "Harry told me that the evil disappeared from Alhambra altogether. They had bound it into that strange altar stone with magic sigils of iron and silver. They were going to try to send the stone into the Void, but one day when they came to check all was well, all the sigils were missing and the Evil was gone also. Could it have got loose? Wait . . . wait. Remember Pasgen and Hafwen were pursuing some mad thing that was killing and destroying without reason . . ." She looked up into Denoriel's face.

"I do not know," he said. "I have given more attention to the mortal world than to Underhill for some time. I remember Harry saying something about going to Oberon with the tale of the missing Evil. But then Oberon left us and Elizabeth was suspected of treason." He stared at Rhoslyn for a moment and then said slowly, "But if that Evil has somehow found its way into the queen of England . . ."

Rhoslyn swallowed hard. "I cannot be sure, but I think it must be. It was . . . it was as if all the prayers Mary said were twisted awry, as if her God was twisted awry. Was that not what destroyed Alhambra and El Dorado? Priests from the mortal world who cursed those domains because they did not conform to their ideas?"

"But how did it come to Mary?"

"Vidal . . ." Rhoslyn breathed. "Remember that Pasgen told us what had happened in the gnome's domain, how the Evil had come and killed and destroyed and then suddenly was gone. Remember Pasgen said he had traced it through the Gate to the gnome's domain but it had not gone out through the Gate. He and Hafwen searched, but it was truly gone."

"You mean that Vidal somehow bound the Evil and removed it? Why? How?"

"How? He has been different since he was held by the mist. He often thinks and plans before he acts now, and he has more than enough power." Rhoslyn shivered. "The Dark Court is awash with unhappiness and pain and fear. Why? That I cannot even guess, unless his FarSeers saw Mary's life ending; she is frail. So perhaps he seized the Evil for the purpose he used it? To ensure . . . Oh, merciful Mother . . . to give Mary a child, an evil child, who would ensure the misery of Logres for . . . for eternity."

Denoriel did not answer her. He looked past her, a little to the side and a moment later his face twisted and a low exclamation of pain forced itself past his lips. He closed his eyes. Rhoslyn started out of her chair.

Before she could reach Denoriel, he had reopened his eyes. They were what they should have been, except for the dearth of power in the Bright Court, the deep, brilliant green of a young Sidhe at the height of his power. His hair was still white, but it shone silver and almost lifted as if it would throw off sparks. The lines in his face were gone and his body no longer slumped or was held erect by effort. Smooth muscle that hinted of easy strength and energy filled his clothing.

"Are you all right?" Rhoslyn asked.

"Yes." Denoriel sounded surprised. "I am. I do not know whether I can do that again, but this time all is well. Come. We need to talk to Pasgen and Hafwen about your suspicions. I know I said we would go to Elizabeth first, but during the day that is difficult and there is a safe Gate in Hatfield that I can open to reach her at night. I will just send the gardener's boy with a note to ask her to have Lady Alana attend her tonight."

The Gate Denoriel opened from his bedchamber to Underhill was bright and quick, but the Bright Court should better have been called the Dim Court. The moss, which ordinarily sprang erect almost as one lifted a foot, lay limp after Miralys and Talog had passed. Llachar Lle still stood, but the glow was gone; the blue-veined white marble of the steps and portico was dull and worn.

Denoriel and Rhoslyn did not stay long; there was a strange feel to his apartment, almost as if it were damp and musty. Thus Denoriel bade the air spirits he dispatched to find Pasgen and Hafwen to bring them to Rhoslyn's English manor house in the domain that had once held the self-willed mist. But even the restless mists of Rhoslyn's domain, which usually devised some new detail in her house or lands to surprise and please her, lay quiet.

Harry met them at the door, at once thrilled to see them and alarmed about the weakness of the Gates. He was torn between relief and concern when he learned how Denoriel had found the strength to make the Gates work, and led the way to Rhoslyn's cozy private parlor before he enquired what drove Denoriel to that expedient. But he was utterly horrified, beyond horrified, devastated, when Rhoslyn told him of Mary's possession.

"My fault," he breathed. "Human mischief. Why did I not leave the Evil alone? It seemed content in Alhambra. Now it is about to spread to England." His lips thinned to a narrow line. "No. I will not permit it to destroy my country. My fault, my duty to correct it." He looked at Denoriel. "You'll have to Gate me to wherever Mary is. I'll—" he swallowed and shuddered, his eyes glittering with tears. "I'll kill her."

"Grace of God, no!" Denoriel exclaimed. He did not believe in the mortal God, but so many years of living in the mortal world had fixed his expressions. "We will find a way to separate the Evil from Mary and be rid of one without harming the other."

"Yes, of course," Harry agreed, drawing a deep breath. He hesitated and sucked his lower lip for a moment, then said, "I would not be surprised if Mwynwen would know how. She cannot cure human illness, but she can heal human wounds, and this Evil is no true part of Mary. Surely it can be drawn out of her."

"Yes," Denoriel agreed eagerly. "And do not think the Evil would have been forever easily contained. If you had not diminished it and driven it out, Harry, in our present weakness, it might well have flooded over into the Bright Court."

"Or into the Dark," Rhoslyn said, moving closer to Harry on the sofa on which they both sat and taking Harry's hand. "At full strength it might even have possessed Vidal. He is bad enough as he is. Filled with senseless, unreasoning Evil . . ."

"But my sister," Harry said, pulling Rhoslyn closer against him. "My poor sister. What are we to do with her? She never wanted to be queen. She has no skill for the role and no common sense. She has turned a whole people that loved her into enemies of the crown. England is bankrupt by her idiotic return of Church property and her selling of lands to pay for Spain's war. She cannot be allowed to hold the crown, even without that Evil within her. Elizabeth must rule."

"Not by our doing," Denoriel said firmly. "I know it hurts you to see the realm mismanaged. Elizabeth is half mad with rage and frustration. And her state is worse than yours because she dare not let a word of criticism pass her lips."

"Poor Bessie—" Harry started to say, but did not finish as one of Rhoslyn's girls slid into the room.

"Two Sidhe," she murmured, "Pasgen and Hafwen."

"Invite them in and see we have mead and nectar. And some cakes and nuts," Rhoslyn said.

"And wine for me, Crinlys," Harry said, smiling. "Mead and nectar are too sweet."

"Wine for me, also," Denoriel said, and to Harry, "And how do you know that girl is Crinlys? They all look alike to me."

"Violet ribbon around the neck," Harry said. "Rhoslyn might be able to tell them apart, but I can't."

Crinlys slipped out but the door opened again almost immediately, held for Hafwen and Pasgen by an identical girl with a yellow ribbon around her neck.

"Thank you, Elyn," Pasgen said, and the construct closed the door behind him.

"Yellow ribbon," Harry muttered to Denoriel.

But Hafwen was looking around the room, her face creased with worry. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Pasgen, I told you something was wrong."

"And I believed you," he replied, "since I powered the Gate to get us here safely." He led Hafwen to a chair and then went and took Rhoslyn's free hand. "What has overset you so much, sister?"

When the tale of the Evil that had rooted itself in Mary was told, Hafwen was weeping softly and Pasgen's face was twisted into a hard mask of mixed fear and determination.

"No matter the cost, it must be destroyed," he said. "You did not see what that Evil did among the Dark, the Bright, and the totally innocent. Hafwen and I—" he moved to her side and put a gentle hand on her shoulder "—we followed its trail. It was—" he closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and began again, "It is unthinkable that that should be loose, should rule, in the mortal world. There will be nothing but grief. The Bright Court will fade to nothing."

They talked for a few minutes about Rhoslyn's notion that the Evil had somehow shifted into Dakari, perhaps when he had come to spy out Alhambra, that Vidal had captured Dakari and removed him and the Evil from the gnome domain. Pasgen merely nodded when Denoriel asked if he thought Vidal would have seeded Mary with the Evil.

"That may have been his purpose from the beginning and why he stopped Dakari from running amok, but it doesn't matter who did it or why. The Evil must be removed."

Everyone agreed to that; there was less agreement on how. Harry suggested that Mwynwyn could draw the Evil out of Mary, but Hafwen thought it would be near impossible to win Mwynwyn's consent to go to the mortal world in the first place and then destroy an unborn child.

It was not as difficult as they expected. The idea was at first rejected with the near fury Hafwen had predicted, but Mwynwyn was a sensitive and the universal horror clawing at every one of them made her reconsider her impulse to throw them out.

"Why should I commit such an abomination?" she cried.

"We do not wish to harm Queen Mary," Rhoslyn said. "This is a separate thing we believe was implanted in her by Vidal Dhu."

"To keep power flowing to the Dark Court," Mwynwyn sighed.

Then she listened to what Rhoslyn had felt in Mary's touch, and to Harry with tears streaking his cheeks say that if she would not remove the tainted unborn, he would have to kill Mary, his own sister. Harry? Mwynwyn thought, kill his sister? What was in Mary's womb must be truly terrible, and to birth it would be worse than the deliberate death of an unborn child. In the end Mwynyen placed her hands on Hafwen's temples and asked her to think of what she had seen while she and Pasgen pursued the Evil.

White-faced and shivering when she had read Hafwen's memory, Mwynwen agreed to go with them the next mortal night and remove the Evil from Mary's womb.

A far more serious problem became apparent when Denoriel and Rhoslyn Gated from Underhill to Hatfield not long after midnight to get the token for setting a Gate from Elizabeth. When they told her for what they needed it, Elizabeth's eyes went wide with shock, with grief for her sister for whom she still held a thread of affection, but mostly with horror of the married state, which to her mind had created all of Mary's problems.

"See what comes of marrying," she cried. "I will never marry, never. Even to have a child is only a deadly trap."

However, once she was calmed and dried her tears, she became intensely practical. First Elizabeth pointed out that the token Denoriel had given her was bespelled to act when she set it somewhere (a protection for Denoriel who did not want to be frantically trying to build a Gate because one of Elizabeth's ladies somehow found a token and dropped it on the floor).

And after Denoriel thanked her for reminding him and, sighing over the cost in power, said he would make a new token, Elizabeth asked what they planned to do with the Evil once it was extracted from Mary's womb.

"You cannot destroy it," Elizabeth said, looking from one to the other. "Da and I talked about that when he was trying to free Alhambra. He and the elder Sidhe were thinking about sending the whole altar to the Void, but Sawel had not got the spell right."

There was a dead silence while Denoriel, Rhoslyn, and Aleneil stared at her.

"It will get loose from the—" she searched for an unfamiliar Latin word "—fetus when the fetus dies," Elizabeth pointed out. "Where will it go? You told me that Pasgen and Hafwen think from the gnomes' description that it was using a Dark Sidhe called Dakari. If it got into Dakari, can it get into someone else?"

"I don't know how it got into Dakari," Denoriel said, "but if what we think is true, Vidal held Dakari and the Evil in him captive for some time. The Evil could not escape from Dakari. Vidal must have had some kind of shield around the Sidhe that prevented the Evil from escaping or striking at him."

"Mirror shield," Rhoslyn said. She and Pasgen had tried many different shields to protect themselves when they were still part of the Dark Court. "Turned inside out. Mirror on the inside."

"Can you cast one?" Denoriel asked her.

"I know how," Rhoslyn told him, "but with my strength at so low an ebb, I cannot think it would be proof against the Evil's power."

"Can you teach me?" Denoriel asked then. "I can get the power if I must."

Elizabeth made a wordless sound of protest, but Denoriel, face grim, shook his head at her.

"I can try," Rhoslyn said. "A mirror shield inside out is a rather complicated spell. But Pasgen will be with us and he knows the spell too."

"He won't have much more power than you because he will be holding the Gate," Aleneil pointed out.

"Perhaps if we all three cast it at once," Rhoslyn suggested. "I do not know whether the three spells will blend—likely Pasgen will know that or how to do it—but even if they do not blend there will be three layers, which is better than one."

"Then you will have at least a few moments to do something final with the Evil before it gets loose," Elizabeth said. "What will you do with it?"

Another long silence. They had all hoped that the Evil would die when the fetus died. Elizabeth's reminder that Evil could not be completely destroyed brought them forcibly to face a problem they had not, with typically Sidhe disinclination to plan ahead, wished to address.

"I will come with you," Elizabeth said in a small voice. She sounded very frightened. "I do not think the Evil will be able to break my shields and seize me." She shivered slightly. "It must be me. There is so little power in the Bright Court, I think the shields will be all you can do. I will Push it. I will Push it very hard . . . I hope into the Void. I have done that before."

All three looked at her.

"It is my realm," she said, her voice growing stronger, surer. "It owns my life, my heart, my mind, my body." She swallowed. "I am afraid," she admitted, "but afraid or not, it is my duty to save England from any threat."

 

The next night soon after full dark Elizabeth left Blanche on guard by the door of her bedchamber and escaped with Lady Alana, both hidden by the Don't-see-me spell. Aleneil was trembling with weakness from holding the spell over both of them just for the time it took to reach the court where Ystwyth waited. The elvensteed carried them swiftly to the park behind Westminster Palace where they found Rhoslyn, who had ridden Talog from the Golden Bull.

If either of the Sidhe had been at full strength, she could have used the Don't-see-me spell to bring Elizabeth into Mary's bedchamber. But Aleneil was already exhausted and Rhoslyn did not dare expend the power, which she would later need for the mirror spell. However, Rhoslyn knew the palace and Mary's routine.

She led Elizabeth, dressed simply as a maid, in through the side entrance Mary's ladies always used. The guards there would recognize Rhoslyn and let her pass; there was no reason for them to know she was not supposed to be at the palace. Except among the servants, none would know her maid, who was safely waiting at the Golden Bull. Elizabeth too was passed without question.

Only once during their progress through the corridors, did they need to slip into an empty room while a party went past, coming from some business with the queen. Rhoslyn thought she recognized some of the voices—councilors. By bad luck, one might want to speak to her because he thought her a favorite; by the worst luck one of them might recognize Elizabeth.

When the group passed, Rhoslyn sighed with relief. "Good," she muttered. "That means the queen is still at work. Now she will probably go to her closet to write in her journal or to Philip. If our good fortune holds, the bedroom and dressing room will be totally empty."

They did not have that much good fortune. Elizabeth stunned the guard, and they slipped through the door. Two of the queen's chamberers were in the dressing room when Rhoslyn opened the door, but Elizabeth was quick with her freezing spell. Rhoslyn closed the door, Elizabeth releasing the guard just as the latch clicked.

Then they were through the dressing room and out into the bedchamber—which was empty. As Rhoslyn shut the door behind them, Elizabeth said, "Deffro," and the women came to life, never aware that they had lost a little time.

Elizabeth then jammed the lock on the door so that she could examine the walls and the furniture in peace. If she heard someone trying to get in, she would release the spell on the lock and Rhoslyn would hide them with Don't-see-me, but that would be a last resort.

The maids, however, remained in the dressing room talking in low tones. Elizabeth settled at last on a short stretch of wall between two paintings, one of Philip and the other of Philip and Mary together. She did not have much choice as much of the wall was covered by furniture or tapestries.

Satisfied that the space was large enough and that those who came through first could move aside quickly to allow others to enter, Elizabeth laid down her token. Now it was only necessary for them to find a place to hide until Mary went to bed. If they should be discovered, Rhoslyn would conceal them with the Don't-see-me but both hoped that would not be necessary. With luck, they would not need to conceal themselves for long.

As soon as Mary had dismissed all her attendants except the lady who slept with her and perhaps a maid to bring anything the queen wanted during the night, Elizabeth would set a sleep spell on them all. Once they were ensorcelled she would invoke the token and the others would come through the Gate from Avalon.

Then the luck turned toward them. Having little to do Rhoslyn had been listening to the chamberers' conversation. Most of it was concerned with the clothing they were working on, but while Elizabeth was looking for a place to hide, Rhoslyn's keen ears detected the maids' decision to go to their own small parlor and take some refreshment before the queen sent for them to undress her.

When Rhoslyn heard the click of the outer door closing, she and Elizabeth hurried into the dressing room. Here they hoped to find a safe place. The room was crowded with many gowns, undergowns, sleeves, stomachers, sets of shelves that held gloves and stockings and such small articles of dress.

"Well," Rhoslyn murmured, "how thoughtful of them to lay out her night rail. We need not worry about which shelf they will approach. I think . . . there—" She pointed to a rack that held Mary's very richest gowns. "She will not be wearing any of those early tomorrow, so we need not fear the chamberers will come to that rack to lay out tomorrow's garments."

After a small struggle to slide behind the garments without disarranging them, Elizabeth and Rhoslyn sat quietly on the floor. They did not speak; there was nothing more to say and Rhoslyn was concentrating on gathering her strength. Elizabeth prayed. She seldom mixed Christian religion with her Underhill experiences, but this time she felt that although God might try the faithful, He could not really want a Devil Incarnate to rule England.

Time passed slowly, but it did pass; then Rhoslyn heard the chamberers returning, exchanging pleasantries with the guard. Both she and Elizabeth stood, hoping their shoes would be hidden by the long skirts of the fine gowns. Now Elizabeth began to grow anxious, not about being found—the maids moved to the bedchamber without looking around the dressing room—but because she was apprehensive about Mwynwyn's task and about whether she could Push the Evil far enough.

Mercifully there were no setbacks to make her more anxious. Rhoslyn could hear the conversations in Mary's bedchamber while her ladies disrobed her, removed and put away her jewels, and brushed out her hair. She pressed Elizabeth's arm when the queen gave her ladies leave to go, warning her it was almost time to act.

A few softer murmurs marked Mary and her companion climbing into bed and the chamberers smoothing the bedclothes over them and pulling the bedcurtains closed. Only one of the women returned to the dressing room carrying Mary's dress. She spent a few moments laying it away and then went out, wishing the guard a good and quiet night.

Now Rhoslyn and Elizabeth extracted themselves from behind the clothing. Rhoslyn listened for a moment at the door and heard nothing. That meant that probably no one was sitting up in bed and chatting. She did not think everyone was asleep; she knew Mary slept very badly—Elizabeth's spell would take care of that—but she did not want anyone's last memory to be of falling asleep in the middle of a sentence.

They heard someone shift in her bed when Rhoslyn opened the door, but Elizabeth's spell took that person before she could speak or remember waiting for an answer. They could hope that she would think whatever had disturbed her had been unimportant and she had then fallen asleep. They went in, closing the door behind them.

Because she had been standing in the dark behind the clothes, Elizabeth was able to see well enough by the night candle. She went directly to the token, touched it, and said, "Come." She thought again as she invoked the token that as soon as there was even a small amount of power to waste, Denno had better change the word of invocation to something her women were unlikely to say. She had had the thought many times and as many times it had slipped her mind; when she was with Denno, they had much better things to do.

Dark as the room was, the spot that formed on the wall was still blacker, or perhaps it was that the black glowed that made it visible. Elizabeth stepped out of the way as Pasgen came through. He looked less strained than she expected and she felt the power of his shields as he, too, stepped out of the way to give room to Denno, also well shielded. He was followed by Hafwen and Mwynwen, naked of protection, as they needed to be to use their Gifts.

Hafwen gasped as soon as she entered the room, and Pasgen hurried to her side to take her arm and steady her. "There." Her head turned toward Mary's bed. "It is there."

"Can you mark it for me exactly, Hafwen?" Mwynwen asked. "It would be a tragedy if I killed an unborn and we later discovered the evil was in an amulet or some other artifact Vidal had planted in this chamber."

Rhoslyn hurried to the bed and drew back the curtain on the side where she knew Mary always slept. Hafwen took a step, then another toward the bed. It was not far to go, but Elizabeth could see she was shaking and that Pasgen was supporting her. However, he was not holding her back or trying to shield her in any way. Denno, Elizabeth thought, could take a lesson from Pasgen; then she bit her lip to curb a smile. This was no time for smiling, but Denno often still thought of her as the three-year-old he had dandled on his knee.

"Yes, there," Hafwen said, pointing to Mary's belly.

She had run her shaking hand down Mary, from the top of her head, where she actually rested her fingers on the queen's forehead to be sure the Evil was not in Mary's mind, down her body, down her legs, to her feet. Then with her eyes closed, she seemed to let her hand drift. It wavered slightly and then came to rest on the queen's abdomen.

"Thank you," Mwynwen said, but her tone was bitter. She had hoped to the last they would find some other site for the Evil.

Nonetheless, she came to Hafwen's side and ran her fingers over the lips Hafwen had bitten bloody; the lips healed. Then she slid her hand under Hafwen's and looked down at Mary.

"If you need strength," Denoriel said, moving beside her, "you can draw on me."

After a moment of silence, Mwynwen gasped. "I may need to," she said, her voice thin and choked. "I have touched it." She shuddered. "It is evil, indeed. And now it is aware of me."

She bent forward over the bed, one hand on Mary's belly, the other stretched out. Denoriel took it between both of his. He looked away from his fellow Sidhe, looked once at Elizabeth. Her eyes were huge and brilliant with tears but she made no sign, no gesture, to stop him from what he was about to do. She loved her Denno with all her heart, but England was at stake . . . and in the end, Elizabeth knew her realm came first.

She saw the pain in his face, the way Mwynwyn's hand jerked in his as the jolt of power ran through his body like flame. She saw Mwynwyn's other hand lift a sliver from Mary's body, an ugly yellowish . . . something . . . following her hand. In the next moment her hand slammed down on Mary's belly so hard the queen's body bounced.

Mwynwen uttered a pained cry and clutched Denoriel's hand tighter. Elizabeth could see a sheen of moisture on his face, which was graying under his sun-darkened skin as Mwynwen drew power from him.

"Oh, poor thing. Poor thing," Mwynwen sobbed.

Tears ran down her face as she drew her hand up again, twisting her body to give herself leverage. The yellowish stuff rose higher and Mwynwen seemed to fix her fingers in it. She backed a step away from the bed, drawing the thing with her.

Inside it Elizabeth could see something red, a tiny, not quite human form with a head as large as the rest of the twisted and deformed body. It twitched. Elizabeth caught her breath and sent more power into her shields. Mwynwen gripped the yellow stuff tighter and pulled harder.

Suddenly the little red thing, which had seemed limp and quiet, straightened from its coiled position and reached arms? tentacles? thorns? toward the yellow stuff, piercing it, rising toward Mwynwen's hand. Elizabeth cried out, wanting to run away, but she was the only one with power to spare. Swallowing, she cast a shield over Mwynwen. At the same moment the trail of yellow goo still attached to Mary's stomach snapped, and the puslike clot that enveloped the tiny red monster was jerked free of Mwynwyn's grip and flew through the air right at Hafwen.

She threw up her own shields, but they were gossamer veils designed for playing games among the Bright Sidhe, not really meant for protection. Pasgen shouted and something black and dense formed around the clot of goo. It struck Hafwen, who recoiled with a cry, stumbling backward. The black mass jerked and bulged, the creature within now showing its power and threatening to split the dark mirror spell. But if not strong, Hafwen's shields were slick; the Evil slid down those shields without piercing them.

Rhoslyn had come forward and was repeating Pasgen's words, pointing at the black mass rolling crazily around the floor. The black grew denser, but what it enclosed only became more violently agitated.

Denoriel, so drained by Mwynwen's need that he felt as if his body would fall in on itself, grasped at the first thread of power he saw. It was thicker than he wanted, but he dared not take the time to look for a less potent line. He dreaded the consequences; he had drunk lightning twice before in these terrible two days. But the encased thing was not subdued. Twitching and rolling, it then convulsed violently and leapt up at him, forcing a thread-thin hook through the two not-dense-enough mirror spells. Denoriel drew in the undiluted mortal power, crying out with pain as it burned through his power channels.

Elizabeth cried out too. If Denno burned himself so badly he could not use magic, she would lose him. She was badly frightened and on the edge of vomiting from the disgusting sensation that had oozed through her shield when she tore a clot of the yellow goo from Mwynwyn's hand.

Now that thing was attacking her Denno! She watched with starting eyes as a thin red hook, somehow pushed itself through the dark envelope and scraped for a purchase while it slid down Denno's shield. Elizabeth shook with the desire to rush over to him and pull the thing off. Her shields were stronger than his now and it might get its claws into him because he could not say the spell as fast as Pasgen and Rhoslyn.

They could not help; Rhoslyn was drained and Pasgen still had to hold the Gate. And she could do nothing either! Elizabeth knew the danger to a spell-caster if the spell failed. She dared not interrupt or distract Denno while he was casting.

Another convulsion within the surrounding black of the mirror spells sent the Evil from Denoriel's hip right up to his face. The red hook caught. Denoriel spat out the last word of the spell. With a shriek, Elizabeth leapt forward, seized the writhing black ball, yanking loose its grip on her Denno, and flung it away.

Rage and fear and sickness roiled together. Heat rose from her belly to her breast. She opened her mouth and felt flames pour out with her breath.

"Begone!" she shouted, her eyes fixed on the black ovoid that swelled and sank in furious pulses. "Begone to that empty place from which nothing ever returns."

And it was gone.

The room was silent. Everyone stood as if struck to stone for a moment, then Elizabeth flung herself around to clutch at Denoriel, drop her shield, and run her hands over his face. "Are you hurt, Denno? I saw it catch at you. Are you burned?"

"That was some Push!" he sighed. "I could feel the power lines all around me tremble." He fended off her hands, dropped his shield, and drew her close to kiss. "It's all right, love. If I could feel what you did to the lines of power, I still have magic. And the thing, whatever it was, didn't take hold, only caught for a moment where the shield bulges over my nose."

"I am very glad we did not need to depend on the mirror spells," Pasgen said with a sigh. "That thing was incredibly strong and it understood mirror spells. It did not try to use magic, only force. We should have considered that. After all, we did suspect that Vidal had held it prisoner with a mirror spell." He smiled faintly. "That was a good Push indeed, Lady Elizabeth. I will do some checking, but I am sure you sent it to the Void."

He looked at Elizabeth, remembering when she had nearly sent him into the Void. Well, he had been trying to kill her, so perhaps it was justified. He turned his head, saw Hafwen, and moved to stand beside her. He surely did not envy Denoriel, who had to deal with that temper and that kind of power.

"I do not know what the physical thing was," Hafwen said, nervously clutching Pasgen's hand, "but what was in it was pure Evil." She closed her eyes. "I have never felt anything like that before."

"The form was that of a very young unborn," Mwynwen said. "Only it was malformed. I do not think it could have lived, even if it had been birthed."

"Poor Mary," Elizabeth said. "My father was very wrong to see her only as a political pawn. She wished so much to be a wife. She loved children. He should have found her a good husband so she could have been happy . . . instead of ruining England."

"She will not harm Logres for long," Mwynwen said sadly. She leaned over Mary again, touching her belly and then shook her head. "Poor woman. She cannot live long. There is something growing in her womb. Not a magical thing, a human illness about which I can do nothing."

Elizabeth's heart leapt within her when Mwynwen said that Mary could not live long. In the next moment she felt a flush of shame at her callousness toward her sister and she bit her lip and buried her face in Denoriel's breast.

Rhoslyn was looking around the bedchamber. For all the frantic activity, nothing had been disturbed. She pulled up the light coverlet and smoothed it over the queen's still form; her eyes stung with tears. Mary was a good woman, truly kind and loving. Elizabeth was right. It was Henry VIII's desperate need for a son to follow him that had twisted Mary all awry. Tenderly she smoothed Mary's hair. She suspected now that the Evil was gone, Rosamund would be a favorite again.

Mwynwen had already passed through the Gate, Elizabeth was waiting near it to release the sleep spell, Denoriel right behind her. Then Hafwen went through. Pasgen came and slid an arm around Rhoslyn's waist.

"This is hard for you, Rhoslyn. I am sorry."

Although she was surprised by her brother's attention and gentleness, she was glad of it and leaned her head on his shoulder. Torgen and Hafwen had drawn him into Bright Court ways. The Bright Court Sidhe might still be careless and inconstant, but they liked playing with the softer emotions and readily displayed them.

"I have been her handmaid for over twenty years. It is very strange to think that she will be gone. She is a good person. It is unfair that she should know only sorrow."

Pasgen, like almost every other living being, had no answer to that. They stepped back so Rhoslyn could close the bedcurtain. Elizabeth released the sleep spell and they went through the Gate which, with a sigh of relief, Pasgen allowed to close.

When they came through, there was quite a crowd near the Gate platform. No one wanted to carry away for private  consideration the disgust and terror the Evil had wakened in them. Harry and Lady Aeron were waiting with Talog, Hafwen stood between Talfan and Torgen, who was all decked out in red eyes, carnivore teeth, and claws. Miralys had made a double saddle to take Elizabeth and Denoriel.

All, however, were looking after a single drooping figure mounted on an elvensteed that was moving very slowly toward the cottages beyond Avalon.

"Mwynwen would not stay," Hafwen said. "Healer that she is it cut her to the heart to have to send to death even so evil a thing. And to feel death creeping close to Mary and be unable to ward it away . . ." She sighed and shook her head.

They watched Mwynwen move away through a darkling gloom. In the vault of the "sky" the stars were either gone or dim. The shining twilight was shading into black night. Elizabeth shivered as she looked at the sad, wilted moss and the dull, lusterless palace in the distance. No flag flew bravely, due to the fact that there was no breeze from the dark staff on the tallest spire.

Where were Oberon and Titania? After eons, was Underhill dying?

Elizabeth swallowed hard and glanced around at her friends, her lover. "God willing," she said, making her voice firm, "I will give it all back to you when I rule. I swear I will stint no effort to make a happy realm." She blinked away tears and added in a determinedly cheerful voice. "At least we have warded off the worst threat today. Evil will not rule Logres forever."

"Let us put this aside," Denoriel urged. "Aleneil and Ilar are waiting at the Inn of Kindly Laughter to hear whether we succeeded. For this one mortal night let us account ourselves victors."

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