Underhill, the misery of England was received with rejoicing by the Dark Court. Vidal decreed orgies where mortals and beasts snatched from the world above were torn apart and their raw and dripping flesh consumed. And he made all punishments public spectacles of torture; those occurred frequently since plenty made the denizens of the Dark Court wilder and more vicious rather than better behaved.
Vidal was so content that he had forgiven Aurilia for the failure of his plan to provide a babe for Mary almost without a word of anger. The truth was that he had been unable to get the Evil to agree to transfer itself to a newborn. He had a new and better plan now. He would disguise Dakari as King Philip; Dakari would couple with the queen and the Evil would root itself in Mary's womb. The seed that Dakari would carry would not be his own—Sidhe could not breed with mortal—but a packet drawn from a mortal prisoner and held in stasis by Vidal's spell and the power of the Evil. Vidal had won agreement to that plan because he had convinced the Evil It could influence Mary herself from the womb, and Mary was queen of England.
By the time he had the agreement—it was not easy to communicate with the Evil, who knew no words—it was too late to implement the plan. At the end of August, Philip had left England to be invested with the most important of Emperor Charles's domains. Had times been happier in England and power less available to the Dark Court, Vidal might have made some effort to reach Philip in Flanders and induce him to return to his wife's bed; however, with the terrible harvest and increase in prices adding to the religious unrest in England, he was satisfied to relax and enjoy the merrymaking of his Court.
During the time between Mary's move to Oatlands and Philip's departure, Elizabeth had three weeks of relative freedom. She was living in her own manor with her own trusted guards at her doors. She still had Mary's women watching her, but the guards would not pass those ladies once Elizabeth was said to be asleep and they did not have the authority that Kat once had to pass the guards by. The one woman in her chamber Elizabeth could bespell to sleep, and she welcomed her Denno back into her arms with the enthusiasm of a three-months' absence.
The Bright Court was thin and faded as joy was drowned with the rotting harvest, starved with higher and higher prices of food, and scorched with the agony of the burning martyrs. Little sweet miasma of pleasure sifted down from the mortal world, only the sour strength of sorrow, the bitter of hatred, the burning of rage. These most of the Bright Court Sidhe could not or would not touch.
Few balls or parties were held in the Bright elfhames or private domains of the Seleighe Sidhe. That did not trouble Elizabeth, who was particularly at peace and lighthearted in those three weeks, and for good cause. Sometimes she and Denoriel simply stayed in his own rooms, played silly games and made love. Rhoslyn and Harry would often join them; the first time they did so, Rhoslyn told Elizabeth that Philip had virtually ordered Mary to remain on good terms with her sister no matter what happened.
Rhoslyn had all the news about the queen—not that there was much. Mary was desperately trying to stop Philip from leaving her; he was gentle, but adamant. He must go in person to be invested with the lands his father was abdicating in his right. Mary was devastated; not only had she just gone through the most humiliating experience of her life, but she was about to lose the man she truly loved.
In her grief, Mary clung even closer to the women who had supported her in her past miseries. Rhoslyn was very high in Mary's regard since her mortal alter ego Rosamund had proclaimed the miracle that had kept Mary safe from the evil that had slain her physician Albertus. And Rhoslyn, who truly pitied Mary, did all she could to hold the queen's regard. She knew what had really happened that night and knew she must be alert for some other device by the Dark Court to give the queen an unholy heir.
Not all was gloom in the Seleighe domains. The great markets seemed to have their own mysterious sources of power. They were as lively and more crowded than ever; indeed it seemed as if most of the Bright Court came to the markets for amusement when they were denied the mortal power of gaiety and mirth. It was to the markets that Denoriel took Elizabeth and in the markets they were forever meeting Sidhe who knew Denoriel but did not know Elizabeth. She was delighted to leave matters that way. She was very tired of being watched.
The three weeks was all that Elizabeth had, however. Philip's favor had its disadvantages. He did not permit Mary simply to appoint another "governor" for Elizabeth and leave her behind when he started for Dover. No, despite Mary's distaste for Elizabeth's company during the last few days she would have with her beloved husband, Elizabeth was invited to join them.
Not knowing how long she would be deprived of her Denno and Underhill, Elizabeth wanted a last entertainment. But the Bright Domains were faded. No brilliantly colored flames leapt about the crystal logs in Denoriel's fireplace; the illusion of the manor house was gone, the window itself was gone, from Denoriel's parlor. Denoriel knew he would not be able to create a ball; instead he arranged a come-one-come-all party at the Inn of Kindly Laughter.
It seemed as if all the liosalfar Underhill and a great many of the neutral oddities, like kitsune and urso, accepted the invitation. To accommodate the guests, the Inn of Kindly Laughter stretched to impossible dimensions and at least five of the strange forms the server took were present. Elizabeth only shook her head, resigned to not understanding and not caring much right now. She was being handed like a refreshment from one partner to another and having the unusual pleasure of being of no importance at all, only Prince Denoriel's favorite human.
She danced with a great many Sidhe and other beings. One made her laugh by his repeated attempts to dance with her; ursos were very clumsy. Finally, in pity, she allowed him to take her in his arms and stump away among the other twirling dancers . . . only to discover she had made a mistake.
The urso kept urging her toward a dark corner of the inn and telling her what delights he had prepared for mortals who would come with him. She laughed and said she could not, that she was bound by duty to the mortal world. He only increased his offers of riches and pleasure. He was very strong and less gentle than was usual for an urso, but before Elizabeth could become really frightened or call for help, the strange server, wearing the form of the tall stick with bristles, came between her and the urso. The bristles bent forward and touched the urso; he cried out in an odd voice and let her go.
Had the being drawing her into the dark been Sidhe or mortal, Elizabeth would have been more cautious, but an urso must have been joking. They were known for liking a jest, and what could an urso want with a mortal? They did not keep mortal slaves. She laughed as she saw the bristle part of the server sweep the urso toward the door. Apparently the server did not appreciate that urso's humor. Then Denno was there and she slipped into his embrace, as natural to her as breathing; she thought no more of the matter.
Later, in a hidden pocket in a Dark domain that had fallen into ruin when its maker challenged Vidal some hundreds of mortal years before, Paschenka said angrily to Cretchar, "I almost had her. Like all mortals she is stupid and greedy. I would have had her through that Gate you made if not for that strange creature."
Cretchar shuddered slightly. He did not admit that Paschenka would never have got Elizabeth though the Gate which had already faded. Paschenka had brought him only two gnomes and a goblin to slaughter, and the creatures of Underhill did not contain the same rich life force as mortals. And the server had returned after it thrust Paschenka out and . . . eaten . . . what was left of the Gate. Cretchar had fled before it caught him, but what flowed from it made him swear he would never again attempt a Gate in the inn.
"That was the server of the Inn of Kindly Laughter," Cretchar said ominously. "It rarely looks the same twice and has powers that no one understands. But if it has an interest in the red-haired girl, you will not be able to take her from there. You will need to seize her in the fair itself."
"How will I find her?" Paschenka snarled. "The Bazaar of the Bizarre is rather large."
"Not the Bazaar. The Elves' Faire. I still know Sidhe in the Bright Court. Prince Denoriel will hear of otherwhen jewelry there. She is known to love jewelry. Denoriel is besotted and will take her to see it. He does not oversee her choice of jewelry. It should not be difficult simply to pull her between two stalls and hold her quiet. I will bring a rug and wrap her in it. The market would not register that as violence, and we could carry her to a gate."
Paschenka wrinkled his nose. "It would be better if you made a Gate right where I seized her."
"For a Gate formed inside the market, I will need to kill two of the mortals you have taken. I would need that much life force to open and close the Gate."
"I do not believe you," Paschenka snarled. "You are lazy and stupid. There is so much power here that I am full to repletion. You cannot have any of my humans. I have other purposes for them. I am not even sure I want that red-haired girl. I have done well enough. I will put my mortals into stasis and bring them home."
Cretchar laughed. "Try," he said. "You go nowhere without the redhead. We agreed you would take her and I wish her gone. Just try to leave here without me. A Gate from nothing in a place so full of coercive magics as a great market needs life force, but I can deal with a Gate in a half dead domain. This Gate will not open for you. I helped get you those mortals. Some are mine."
"No." Paschenka's hands began to glow.
Cretchar backed away, then suddenly was gone. He was not completely helpless without life force; there was so much Dark power available even in the dying domain that he could increase the distance a step would take him and pull over himself the Don't-see-me spell. Paschenka roared with rage as a net of light flew from his hands. It fell uselessly where Cretchar had been.
The very day after the party in the Inn of Kindly Laughter, Mary and Philip, with Elizabeth discreetly in the background, took a barge down the Thames to London. Mary was supposed to continue by water to Greenwich, but she could not bear to be separated from Philip for even the short time it took to traverse London. She was not well enough to ride, so Philip rode and Mary was carried in an open litter through the city.
She was greeted with considerable joy, largely owing to the rumors that she was dead and they would be ruled by the Spaniards. Elizabeth was not put on show; she went by barge all the way from Hampton Court to Greenwich Palace. She was not sure how she felt about that. She always loved the way the people cheered her and cried "God save the Lady Elizabeth," but she was not sure whether she wanted Philip to be made too aware of her popularity.
On the twenty-ninth of August, Philip set sail for Flanders. Elizabeth, to her consternation, learned that her sister planned to remain in Greenwich until his return . . . which Elizabeth suspected would be never. All she could do was lie with a sympathetic face, bite her tongue when Cardinal Pole lectured her on the great need to remake England as a Catholic nation, and meekly attend Mary as she sought the consolation of religion for her husband's absence.
September brought Elizabeth one great advantage. Renard, an inveterate enemy despite Philip's favor, was relieved of his duty as the Imperial ambassador. Mary was utterly dismayed; she had relied on his advice for so long. Elizabeth could not help but wonder whether Philip, having recognized Renard's fixed animosity toward her, had arranged the recall. Whatever the reason, Renard was gone and the new Imperial ambassador was scrupulously polite.
Elizabeth's good fortune was not mirrored in England. There was no improvement in the weather; there would be famine, Elizabeth thought when the twenty-ninth of the month brought what was written into the chronicles as the greatest rain and flood that ever was seen in England. Mary only said it was proper weather for the one-month anniversary of the day Philip left her.
Another joy came to Elizabeth in September: Roger Ascham returned to England from a diplomatic mission. He was Latin secretary to the queen and thus was able, without rousing any suspicion, to resume his sessions with his old pupil. Elizabeth joyously seized the opportunity to stretch her mind, to escape the company of her lachrymose sister. She and Ascham were reading together the orations on ruling by Aeschines and Demosthenes and discussing the ideas . . . but in Greek, which no one else at Court could understand.
In October Parliament was about to convene and Mary finally had to give up the pretense that if she waited at Greenwich Philip would return. Periodically bathed in tears, Mary sailed up river to settle into St. James' Palace. As an anodyne for her constant ache of longing, Mary threw herself into the business of state. She did not wish to forget Philip, not for a moment; she wished to serve him.
Elizabeth did not dare show any interest in any political matter nor hold any serious discussion with any member of the Court. She had nothing to do except attend on Mary, and the attendance was deadly dull. Mary spent every morning in prayer, which Elizabeth had to attend; in the afternoon the queen met with the Council, to which meetings Elizabeth was certainly not invited. By the end of a week Elizabeth was beginning to feel as if she would almost prefer to be sent to the Tower again as to be locked into Mary's company any longer. By the middle of the month she felt as if she were going mad.
A fortnight into October, Elizabeth took her courage in both hands and with suitable humility begged the queen to allow her leave the Court and retire to Hatfield. The city air did not agree with her, she said. Mary had started the letter to Philip that occupied her in the afternoon and often well into the evening. She hardly glanced at Elizabeth and waved her away without reply.
Fortunately for Elizabeth Mary finished her letter quite early and the Council had not been as difficult as usual. Susan Clarencieux suggested a game of cards and the other ladies urged the amusement; Jane Dormer asked whether she should send to Elizabeth and discover whether she wished to join them.
"I do not think we should trouble her," Rosamund Scot said. "She looks very pale and thin . . . well, she is always pale, but this last week she has a yellowish look to her skin, and her hands are like claws."
Mary said "Elizabeth?" rather absently.
Susan Clarencieux frowned. "She asked for leave to go into the country, to her manor at Hatfield. She said the air of the city does not agree with her."
"She does look ill," Jane Dormer agreed.
Mary looked down at the letter she had just finished. She remembered Philip's lectures on why it was necessary to win Elizabeth's trust and regard. He spoke of her only as a political pawn, of seeing her married to a good Catholic prince so she could be sent out of the country if necessary without creating chaos and so that she could have good Catholic children—to inherit the throne. He did not say that aloud, but Mary understood.
For a moment she considered denying Elizabeth's request to go to Hatfield where doubtless she would sow more seeds of rebellion. But if Elizabeth were truly ill, perhaps she would die. How convenient. Then Mary shuddered. How angry Philip would be. How wrong she would be to disobey her husband. She reached for her quill and added a postscript, saying that Elizabeth wished to retire to the country; should she agree?
Philip, released from the prison of a land he hated and a wife who did not appeal to him, was having the time of his all-too-sober life. He was masking, dancing, drinking, gambling, fawned over by favor seekers, and he had found the lovely, young, complaisant Mme. d'Aler. He remembered Elizabeth's witty conversation, the charm of her smile. "Let her go into the country," he wrote.
On the eighteenth of October, Elizabeth left London for Hatfield. Five days later Kat Ashley was established as the first lady of the household. Three days after that Dorothy Stafford and Eleanor Gage rode in to be greeted with tears and kisses. Alice Finch followed and last came Agnes Fitzalan. The ladies Mary had sent to replace Elizabeth's trusted friends now realized they would see and hear nothing Elizabeth did not intend them to see and hear. They wrote to Queen Mary, but she made no reply; indeed, what could she write? She knew they would report any sign of treason without instructions.
Of a truth, however, there did not seem to be anything of note to see or hear. Thomas Parry took up his accustomed duties. He and Elizabeth did their business quite openly, discussing this and that tenants' troubles well within the hearing of Mary's ladies. Indeed, it was not until the thirteenth of November that there was any break in the routine that was so dull to them. That day Dunstan stepped soft-footed to Elizabeth's side and murmured in her ear. Mary's spies all became alert. Elizabeth Marberry turned to look at the doorway; Susanna Norton looked fixedly at the book she held; Mary Dacre turned half away and spoke to Alice Finch.
They need not have bothered to pretend not to care what Dunstan said because Elizabeth clapped her hands and cried aloud, "Lady Alana? You say Lady Alana is here? Oh, bring her to me at once." She stood upright with impatience, dropping the book cover she was embroidering without even fixing the needle.
Everyone was looking at the doorway, Kat Ashley with a big smile on her face and all the ladies with some expression of pleasure. Thus it was permissible for the ladies assigned by Mary to stare with curiosity. Each felt only more curiosity when Lady Alana came through the doorway. She was nothing to look at; indeed later when they discussed with each other why Lady Alana was so eagerly welcomed, they found that none of them could remember anything about her except her enchanting dress. And none of them could say just why what she wore was so perfect; it just was! Elegant and lavish and yet neither precious nor ostentatious.
Elizabeth had walked forward to meet Alana who was taken in an embrace before she could bow. "And are those family problems that have kept you from me so long at last settled?"
"In one way, not at all, and I fear Your Grace will need to have a hand in the solution, although you know I hoped I would not need to trouble you. However, the main cause of my absence, the great aunt who could not abide you, that problem is settled at last, and finally. My great-aunt died two days since, on November twelfth. She will never trouble you again."
"I did not wish her dead," Elizabeth said, frowning.
Lady Alana shrugged. "I do not believe her death was anything to do with you, my lady, no particular measure that she took or planned to take. Unless her general spitefulness and hatred burned her up from within. In any case, you need feel no guilt."
"No, not about her." Elizabeth grinned. "It seems that it is either unhealthy or unprofitable to work to my discredit," she said for the sake of Mary's spies. "I need do nothing but sit meek and quiet and my enemies confound themselves. But my dear—" she took Alana's hand "—you must be tired and travel worn. Go now to your chamber. When you are rested and wish to tell me of the trouble you think I can solve, I will be waiting."
So, Elizabeth thought, she was needed for some business Underhill, perhaps something only a mortal could do in the current weakened state of the Bright Court. She was eager to help. She knew her power was not diminished in any way, but she was afraid Denno would forbid her and be angry with Alana . . . and she could not ask.
Despite her words, Mary's spies were watching her brightened eyes with interest, but then Parry came in with a pack of letters. Most he laid aside for Elizabeth to glance over when she had time or simply to hand back to him, but one he laid on the table.
"From your surveyor," he said, knowing not to say William Cecil's name. "Usually he is perfectly clear, but this time I do not at all understand what he is saying. Here—" Parry pointed to a passage in the letter "—he says George Orwell's flax field—" Parry frowned and said with marked irritation that he did not remember the tenant's name "—is . . . gone."
"Gone?" Elizabeth repeated. "The field is gone? For good?"
George Orwell was the code name that meant what followed was important Court news. The field of flax was the code name for Bishop Gardiner, the chancellor. Usually Cecil's message was about stones (Elizabeth was a stone and the trouble was the attempt to dig out the stones) and briars (Gardiner's enemies, who might or might not be Elizabeth's friends). That the field was gone, was confirmation of Alana's news that her great-aunt was dead.
"Yesterday, he says, he had the news that the field would trouble him no more," Parry said, wrinkling his brow over the odd phrasing. "He said the field was to be taken in hand by a higher authority than yours."
"I cannot think what he means by that," Elizabeth said, most untruthfully; Cecil was remarking that God would judge Gardiner. "Just leave the letter. I will give it some thought later. Lady Alana has at last returned to us and I am setting aside business. She says there is a problem in her family that I may be able to settle. I am sure it is over the estate her great-aunt left her. The woman insisted she leave my service to inherit."
With the great-aunt's estate as an excuse, Elizabeth invited Alana to share her bedchamber. Mary's spies were not happy at being excluded, but they knew better by now than to try to get by one of the four old guards who stood by the door. No excuse would work.
Inside, Aleneil was saying, "The snatcher is back." She covered her face for a moment with her hands. "It has been so long since we nearly caught him that we thought we had frightened him away. But he took four children . . . four! Now Ilar and Idres Gawr are beside themselves. Ilar thinks that mortal-stealer has . . . has used up the mortals he took earlier. But children. Why children?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "You know I do not understand how and why power is used by you and yours. But that changes nothing. I told you when this first began that I would be glad to be bait for a trap. Only Denno will be so angry with me . . ."
"It's us he's angry with. Idres Gawr spoke to him and made it a matter of his duty, so he agreed to let you do it but—" Aleneil shivered. "Be careful, Elizabeth, I beg you to be very careful. Do not let the snatcher take you. I will lose my brother if anything happens to you. He will declare blood feud on all of us."
Indeed, it looked as if the blood feud had already been declared when, after midnight, Denoriel stepped through the Gate. His eyes were black with anger and his lips drawn into a thin line. Elizabeth, having given considerable thought to how her lifelong protector might feel about her being bait had decided how to deal with him; she bounced to her feet and ran to embrace him.
"I think the good Lord is supporting me," she said, with a light laugh. "Cecil wrote that Gardiner is dead."
"I told you the word in London was that he was very ill."
"You also told me his opening speech to Parliament was as strong as ever."
Elizabeth drew his head down so she could kiss his lips; meanwhile Alana slipped past them and through the Gate. Elizabeth felt Denno stiffen and knew her diversion had not fully succeeded, but she did not let him pull away from her kiss to which he was responding.
"That is two bitter enemies gone in two months." She said when she lifted her lips. "God's grace shines around me."
Denno would not be diverted to talk of Elizabeth's good fortune. He said, his voice hard, "That was Alana, I suppose."
"Don't be angry with her," Elizabeth pleaded.
Denoriel took a deep breath. "No. She is not happy about endangering you. But what if you are taken? Aside from what I feel for you, you are more important than a whole town full of mortals."
"I will not be taken," she said. "I think the whole of Elfhame Cymry will be watching me, and my shields will protect me. I do not know why, but my power is not diminished at all."
For a moment Denoriel was diverted from his fears. "Pasgen thinks that you may draw directly on the power that is so plentiful in the mortal world. He has been working on how Sidhe might use it, but without success. It is too strong even for him to handle."
Then he put his arm around Elizabeth and walked to the Gate. She drew in an anxious breath. The Gate looked . . . different. The edges were ragged and the image of the exit was pale, almost misty. Nonetheless Elizabeth stepped forward without hesitation . . . and wished she had not. The usual black of passage was lit by strange rents of pearly light, as if the Gate would dissolve, and it was not gone between one breath and another but clung for several long moments as if it were sucking at her.
Denoriel held her tight for another long moment when their feet were firmly on the beautiful image of the Gate platform at Logres. Elizabeth bit her lip. Denno's hair was white, plain flat white, and the lines of pain and anxiety carved into his face seemed deeper.
"I do not like Alana's plan," he said, stepping down from the platform but not moving away from it. "A gnome came to me just as I left Llachar Lle. He said he knew that I was interested in strange and wonderful jewels . . . How would a gnome know that?"
"Well, gnomes do cut gems." Elizabeth smiled and stood tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "And you have been known to buy gems for me." He shook his head, and Elizabeth stopped trying to soothe him. "More likely because that stupid Sidhe who tried to seize me is trying to set a trap in some jeweler's stall. Love, don't worry so much."
"I have just realized how I might save myself any worry at all," Denoriel said, smiling down at her. "I will take on an illusion to look like you." He uttered a bark of laughter. "Then let that mortal-stealer try to seize you."
Elizabeth pulled down his head and kissed him again. "Can you?" she asked sadly. "Look." She gestured out toward Llachar Lle. The area between, usually carpeted by the vivid, dark green moss starred with white flowers, lay dull and yellowish, dying. "And even if you can build the illusion and speak and carry yourself like me, if I appear without you in close attendance our prey will know we have divined his purpose and wait for another time. That means you would need to cover me with an illusion of you." Elizabeth giggled. "I could never carry that off. No, love, let us go and finish this. He last stole children . . . four children."
"Aleneil told me." Denoriel closed his eyes. "The Great Mother alone knows what he will do with them."
Elizabeth put an arm confidently around his waist. "Let us go to the Elves' Faire now, Denno. I think the folk of Cymry will have had time enough to spread throughout the market. I do not wish to be reminded of how thin the Bright Court grows. I will make it up to you all when I am queen, I swear it, but until then I can do nothing and it makes me so sad to see the fireplace empty and the window gone."
Gating from one place Underhill to another was not as difficult as Gating to and from the mortal world so the passage to the Elves' Faire was only infinitesimally longer than usual. Still, Elizabeth was very happy to see the great signs warning against magic or violence and urging the buyer to beware.
Although she had not come to buy anything, Elizabeth looked about her with unfeigned interest. She had a ready and easy source of payment in mortal goods. The Sidhe could ken almost anything, but they did not seem able to create things on their own. If they wanted a copper pitcher or a glass bowl, they had to have one first in order to copy it.
"Jeweler's Row is that way," Denoriel said, and gestured. He did not touch Elizabeth because he knew her shields would ward his hand away.
"Oh, let me look at the other booths. We always go to the Bazaar of the Bizarre. It is long since I have been at the Elves' Faire. I know you said a gnome promised you some special gems, but gems do not spoil like fruit. They will be there another day."
Cretchar, who had been hidden behind the sign that said "NO SPELLS, NO DRAWN WEAPONS, NO VIOLENCE" on one line and below that "ON PAIN OF PERMANENT REMOVAL," drew a breath of satisfaction. He had been afraid that the gnome had made Denoriel suspicious and that Elizabeth would not come at all. He still doubted she could be taken in the trap, and if she were not that Paschenka could be induced to try for her again. But that did not matter. Since she was here, he would use another plan he had been hatching.
That plan had formed itself after he thought he recognized several Sidhe from Elfhame Cymry drifting one by one into the market. He had seen two of them deliberately ignore each other. Of course it was possible that those two were enemies, but it was more likely Elizabeth had been enlisted as bait to catch Paschenka, and the Sidhe from Cymry were the teeth of the trap.
He had warned Paschenka not to seize the children, that the Sidhe of Cymry were even more devoted to the mortal children than to the adult mortals. Paschenka would not listen. He was far too strong for Cretchar to control; Cretchar's only choice was to flee and he liked the ruined domain. He would like to make it his own. He watched Elizabeth turn away from the direction Denoriel had pointed and slipped out of his hiding place to follow.
If Paschenka tried to take Elizabeth, and Cretchar provided a Gate he might succeed. But did he want Paschenka to succeed? How much better to be rid of Paschenka. Really, that was all that was necessary. Elizabeth was no danger to him.
Once Paschenka was gone, he would have all those mortals. With their life force he could restore much of the ruinous domain. He would not need to bring himself to Vidal's notice by asking favors for having Elizabeth abducted. He could not be sure Vidal would be grateful. He had almost been blasted by Aurilia and his Gate had not failed, only faded so that she had been disoriented when she had to leave the mortal world in a hurry.
Cretchar was not sure whether Elizabeth and Denoriel did not notice he was following or did not care. He wished they would settle into a place so he could fetch Paschenka. But there were more than goods available at the Elves' Faire: mortal and Sidhe entertainers—musicians, acrobats, declaimers of poetry—eating places and drinking places, games of chance and skill.
Denoriel and Elizabeth wandered the broad central avenue, stopping here and there to watch and listen, Elizabeth or Denoriel putting down a coin in appreciation or laughing whether they won or lost a game. They stopped to eat at a cookshop, not nearly as elegant as the Inn of Kindly Laughter, but with a most satisfactory hearty stew, and then, attracted by the sing-song voice of a vendor selling goods at auction, walked farther down the side lane to where mortals, animals, and some seemingly animate things of metal were being sold.
Elizabeth was far more interested in the metal creatures than in the humans. Slaves were known in England, but they did not provide a good return for what was paid and she remembered all the Latin essays she had read about the trouble slaves caused. Anyway mortal servants or slaves could be easily enough obtained in England. The metal things, however . . .
Denoriel was fascinated too. He crouched down to examine one of the devices while Elizabeth went to the back of the stall where the vendor stood on a dais. It was a queer creature he was selling, seemingly a mortal but covered with hair—an ape, she would have guessed, but it was much too large. The vendor called for bids but Elizabeth stepped aside and spoke to one of the assistants to the vendor.
The assistant passed her to another over at the side of the stall. He was speaking to some very small, slender creatures who had blue skin and yellow hair and eyes. They had small wings too, which made Elizabeth wonder if they were fay, but they were much too large. Eventually one of them removed a circular object from a belt pouch which the vendor's assistant placed into a flat black box. They all nodded at each other; the round disk was returned, and the assistant turned toward Elizabeth and bowed.
She asked if he were prepared to answer questions about the metal oddities and he said he was. Elizabeth shook her head. The sounds he made did not seem to fit with the words that came into her head, but that had happened to her before in the market. She spoke in English, knowing the assistant could not understand, but of course he did understand. Elizabeth made sure that the things were not Sidhe made and invested with magic.
"Magic?" the assistant repeated, and laughed as if he did not believe in magic. But he was not so rude as to say that. He said, "No, indeed. It will work anywhere its battery can be recharged."
Elizabeth saw Denoriel touch the squat metal object he had been examining, shake his head at the person in charge of it or watching that he did not steal it, and start in her direction.
What the vendor's assistant had said made little sense, but Elizabeth thought she could get a further explanation later. What she needed to know was, "What does it do?"
"So there you are," a loud voice said almost in her ear.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, drawing back.
"Your master, mortal," the fat Sidhe said.
The assistant to the vendor frowned and stepped away, raising a hand with two fingers up, one down between them and two down on each side, to summon those who dealt with slaves.
"You are no master of mine," Elizabeth said sharply, now recognizing the Sidhe that had tried to buy her from Denno and whom she had Pushed into the urso's al fresco. "My friend, Prince Denoriel, told you that I was a free mortal, allowed by Queen Titania's gracious permission to come and go as I will Underhill."
"And I am Sidhe. There are no free mortals. My word is worth more than yours. I say you are a runaway slave! Ho, slavemaster, come and put irons on this impudent creature."
"Oh, go away, you fat nuisance," Elizabeth said, turning away to look for Denoriel, who was pushing aside two burly, blank-faced creatures that Elizabeth thought must be constructs.
The fat Sidhe tried to seize her arm, but his hand slipped away off her shield. "Seize her!" he roared at the constructs.
One of them also tried to grab Elizabeth; the other stepped between her and Denoriel. Elizabeth hissed with irritation and spun to face the fat Sidhe. He was reaching for her again, laughing with satisfaction because she was hemmed in by those the vendor used to control recalcitrant goods. About to Push the nuisance again, this time hard enough to send him to the Void, Elizabeth remembered where she was.
The frustration made her utterly furious. And the knowledge that she dared not even slap his face lest the market consider that a form of violence, made her angrier still. Then she saw Denno struggling in the grip of one of the constructs, while the other reached for her again.
"Let me alone," she ordered the construct in a voice of command. It stopped, confused by two orders equally powerful. Elizabeth called to the vendor, "I am no slave of his!" and she stepped forward and spit directly into Paschenka's face.
The vendor, who controlled the constructs, ordered them to stand. He recognized the gesture of contempt and knew from long experience that she who made it had never been the Sidhe's slave.
"Pest!" Elizabeth snarled, and began to turn away toward Denoriel.
The word was swallowed up in Paschenka's howl of fury. His hand came up, blue light flickering around each finger.
Elizabeth backed up, eyes wide. "No!" she cried. "No! Don't!"
The fat Sidhe laughed at her, sure she was afraid of his power. The blue light arced in her direction.
"Don't!" Elizabeth shrieked. "You will be REMOVED."
She was too late. The last words were not nearly as loud as she expected. They echoed as if coming back from a long distance.
Several other exclamations of horror came from the crowd around the vendor. Tall and commanding, Idres Gawr came forward with Ilar and Aleneil just behind him. Denoriel pushed past the unmoving constructs and put an arm around her.
"I am so sorry," Elizabeth said to Idres Gawr. "It never occurred to me that he would try to use a spell against me and be REMOVED. Now how will you find the children he stole?"
"No, no. You have done all that is necessary. We have his partner, who says our mortals are safe and will take us to them." Idres Gawr bowed to her and gestured toward a knot of broad-shouldered mortals.
"I am so glad I did not spoil everything," Elizabeth said contritely. "I lost my temper with that fat fool."
"We are very grateful to you," Idres Gawr went on, then turned his head toward Denoriel, who still looked grim and angry. "And I wish you to know, Prince Denoriel, that Lady Elizabeth was never in any danger. I know this vendor of old, and he would take my word that Lady Elizabeth was a free mortal. Not to mention the word of Princess Aleneil and half my Court—all of whom do some business here. We expected Paschenka to have her brought to the vendor to mark her as a slave."
Denoriel was trembling with reaction from his fear. "And what if that creature had built one of his Gates and the other pulled her through? That was how he seized your people, was it not?"
Idres Gawr shook his head. "Gates are not easy to build in a market. I am sorry you were anxious. We were busy taking the Gate-builder, the creature that calls himself Cretchar, prisoner, which is why we were slow to go to Lady Elizabeth's aid. I swear to you, Prince Denoriel, there was no danger."
Elizabeth hardly listened. She had not been afraid, except for the one moment when she nearly forgot she was in a market and was about to Push. She was giving most of her attention to the grim-looking mortals. In their midst was a weeping Sidhe and around them was an empty space the other Sidhe avoided. Each mortal held a thick silk bag that Elizabeth realized could be opened with a swift pull of a drawstring.
"They carry Cold Iron," Aleneil said softly in Elizabeth's ear. "They are of the earliest families to join the Sidhe of Cymry. I have been told that they were neither captured nor bought but came with the Sidhe of their own will. They are utterly faithful to Cymry and are the peacekeepers. Cretchar will cause no trouble to anyone, at least for eons, at most, never again."