Rhoslyn was fuming when she arrived in Caer Mordwyn. She had been startled by the urgency of the imp's message because she had not been summoned in four long years. Even after she remembered that Vidal had returned, she had not hurried to respond, bearing stoically the attempts of the imp to pinch and prod her into obeying. It was always Vidal's way, she thought, to make the response to any desire of his urgent.
In fact the imp could do her no harm. Her shields were more than enough to protect her from its malice. But it did mean she needed to keep shields in place; when she relaxed them, the nasty creature pulled her hair and pushed or pulled at her so that she seemed to trip. She was exasperated by the mindless harrassment. The imp could drink in the fear and pain of mortals it mistreated, but she did not exude pain and fear, and the creature should have abandoned its attempts to hurt her.
She was further irritated on her way from the Gate to the palace by the traps Vidal set to bedevil his less than clever subjects. Because she was distracted by the refurbishment of Caer Mordwyn, one of those traps had partly penetrated her shield and stung her. That reminded her Pasgen had warned her Vidal's sojurn in the mist land had changed him. But the reminder of Vidal's new strength only increased her vexation. How a being of such power could take pleasure in the fear and pain of those so much less than him was beyond her willingness to understand.
Once she had simply accepted that Unseleighe life was like that, but recently she had been spoiled. Her time Underhill had been spent mostly with Harry in Elfhame Elder-Elf and twice she had dined with him in Denoriel's luxurious chambers in Llachar Lle. It was true that she could not travel alone in Logres (she had never been to Avalon where the watchers at the Gate would likely have destroyed her). Harry had to be with her and vouch for her—but there were no traps and there was so much beauty.
She had been in Alhambra too; Rhoslyn stopped suddenly and looked behind her, feeling as if she were followed. But the road was empty. What in this ugly, gloomy place had brought Alhambra to her mind? Alhambra, all white marble and delicate lacy turrets . . . Shadows. Yes, shadows moved on the blood-red path behind her. Shadows always seemed to move on their own in Caer Mordwyn.
That was what brought Alhambra to mind, Rhoslyn realized. Shadows had moved on the glistening pathways of Alhambra too. She had felt what she felt now, watched . . . followed.
But Elidir had said she was not alone in feeling as if something trailed behind her in Alhambra. Mechain agreed and told her they had searched both physically and by magic, only once catching a glimpse of a shadow that seemed to move by itself and disappeared as soon as their attention was fixed on it. Rhoslyn recalled that Mechain's remark brought something ugly and half forgotten to mind and she had shivered. Harry put a strong, solid arm over her shoulder and the crawling sensation down her back had stopped.
The memory of Harry's solid warmth, of the way most spells bounced off him by Oberon's protection, made her smile and she started toward the palace again, watching her way but still thinking of Alhambra.
Beauty was no guarantee against evil. Long as Harry and his friends had labored over Alhambra, it was still tainted. Rhoslyn had been asked to make suitable harmless creatures to clean away the detritus of long abandonment and the filth generated by the cursed things the Inquisition had left. To her horror, although the Evil in the elfhame had been so much diminished that even Hafwen could hardly sense it, when she and the others returned, the servants had been corrupted. They had attacked Mechain and Harry, and Rhoslyn had to unmake them.
Rhoslyn stopped again as a long arm snapped out of the brush that lined the road and tried to seize her. It slipped off her shield and she used a small spark of power to drive it back into hiding. Recalling the energy reminded her of the far more subtle trap the Evil in Alhambra had set. Hafwen had barely been in time to stop her from absorbing the power she had expended in making the servants, which was what she always did. This time, had she drawn the power in, the Evil would have come with it.
A split suddenly opened in the road. Rhoslyn cast a bridge of power over it and crossed, sighing. There was danger and evil in the Seleighe domains also, but it was not this kind of petty, senseless mischief simply designed to make stupid, weak beings more ridiculous. Even the mortal world was not so silly. There was logic and purpose to the threats against Mary.
The reminders that all of Underhill was dangerous and for her the mortal world hardly less so made Rhoslyn's mood black and crossgrained when she climbed the red-veined black marble steps into Vidal's palace. She wrenched her mind away from her mistress and the problems of the Bright Court to face current reality. But pushing Vidal to the back of her mind had produced no new insight on what to say to him or how to act.
Partly because she was uncertain about how to present herself to Vidal, she snarled at the Sidhe who blocked the way to the second set of stairs, which would take her to Vidal's apartment. The Sidhe was arrogant, but at least he was not near mindless from being drugged. Nor was he an idiot. When she said she was there because she had been summoned by Prince Vidal, he disappeared, presumably to carry her message.
Rhoslyn continued on her way, then laughed—and was annoyed at herself for doing so—when the messenger reappeared where she had been when she first spoke to him. Apparently he had assumed that, overawed by being summoned by Vidal, she would stay where she was until Vidal's permission was received. He had thus set his translocation spell to a place instead of fixing it on her.
The laugh had been unwise. The Sidhe rushed at her and tried to strike her. Rhoslyn struck back, drawing bitter/sour power from around her and spitting it back at him. She felled him, but the foul intake further exacerbated her temper and she was literally grinding her teeth when she arrived at Vidal's door.
Her mood was so foul that despite knowing she was the only remaining direct link to Vidal, the only way to know what he was planning, Rhoslyn would have turned and walked away if the door had not opened for her at once. But the door did open, and she drew a deep breath, doubled her shields, and walked in.
"You summoned me," she said, her voice cold, her tone almost contemptuous, almost inviting an assault.
Vidal looked up at once from a plaque he held in his lap. "Where is your brother?" he asked. "I wish to speak to Pasgen, and I am sure you have some way to summon him."
Rhoslyn blinked, silent for a moment because she was so astonished at the courtesy of his prompt attention and his lack of reaction to her tone. His voice was mild, only questioning and interested rather than aggressive. On the other hand, his question was part of an old story. Had Vidal lost bits of his memory again and forgotten that Pasgen had renounced his loyalty?
But Vidal did not look lost; he looked strong and calm, his eyes well focused, almost alight. And Aurilia was beside him. She, too, looked better than she had when Rhoslyn had seen her last. Pasgen's warning seemed all too accurate. Rhoslyn thought she had better swallow her bad temper and try to discover what they really wanted from her.
She shook her head and sighed, speaking quietly although her words were sharp. "You summoned me with such urgency to ask a question you know I cannot answer? As to summoning Pasgen, I would not if I could and you know why. I try not to annoy Pasgen."
"She is so heavily warded that my truth spell does not recognize her," Aurilia said, lifting a hand.
Rhoslyn poured more power into her shields and braced herself against an attack. She laid a hand over her lindys to prevent it from shaking. The last thing she wanted was for Pasgen to believe he had to come to her rescue. She did not think Vidal would permit Aurilia actually to harm her. And, indeed, Vidal put his hand over Aurilia's and bore it down although Aurilia was frowning blackly.
"My lord," Rhoslyn said pacifically, "I assure you it is not worth my effort to lie. You need no truth spell for me. Pasgen is in one or another Unformed land. I have no idea which and no way of finding out. I have no idea what he is doing there, except that likely it is something to do with power."
That was all perfectly true and if Aurilia was lying about the effectiveness of her truth spell it would report Rhoslyn was telling the truth. Still, there was something about the quiet, passive way Vidal was watching her that made Rhoslyn cold. She was not going to be able to fool this Vidal into believing her stupid and weak. So, though it was true she could not afford to break with Vidal, she did not need to act as if she did not know he and Aurilia were playing with her.
Rhoslyn shrugged. "If you want to speak to Pasgen, you can leave a message in the empty house. I can do no more than that myself, but I will gladly leave a message for you. Now, if that is all you want of me . . ."
She started to turn away, her irritation returning over this senseless cat and mouse game.
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" Vidal asked, but still without temper or threat, as was the reprimand that followed. "You knew my message was urgent, but still you did not hurry to respond to it. I have something of importance to tell you."
"Then I wish you would tell me quickly." Now Roslyn frowned. "As to why I am in haste to leave and did not come as soon as I had your message . . . This is a bad time for me to leave my lady. There have been several attempts on her life and I did not dare leave while anyone was still awake in Hunsdon."
"Already?" Vidal suddenly flushed with anger and bluish light flickered on his fingertips, but the threat was not directed at Rhoslyn and was quickly controlled. "I summoned you to warn you that I had learned Northumberland wished to be rid of Mary and to bid you take good care."
Rhoslyn sighed. "I am taking care, great care. We have had an attempt at poison and another two at causing an accident and I was forced to stop the heart of a man—fortunately old and greatly excited so his death did not cause any suspicion—who would have stabbed her."
"And you did not bother to tell me?" That question was not so mild. The old Vidal snarled past the barrier of calm.
"That was foolish, Rhoslyn," Aurilia said. "You know Vidal and I are deeply interested in Mary's well-doing."
"Of course I know, but what could you have done to help me?"
"I would have been sooner alert to examine the Court for plots and I could have provided more watchers," Vidal remarked, his calm restored.
"Watchers. Imps!" Rhoslyn wrinkled her nose. "The whole palace would soon have been in such disorder from their nasty tricks that I would never have been able to detect ill-wishing. No, I do not need such help."
"Nor can you watch day and night," Aurilia snapped. "Not without giving away what you are. That is why Prince Vidal wishes Pasgen to join you."
"I am not a fool," Rhoslyn riposted. "I have help enough. I have made the attempts on the Lady Mary clear to her ladies and guards—the servant who nearly caused the accidents fled, the poison killed a dog, the assassin's knife fell from his clothing. Jane Dormer and Susan Clarencieux, her other favorite ladies, allow only old, trusted friends to approach close."
"Do not trust even those 'old trusted friends' too much," Vidal warned.
Rhoslyn drew a quick breath. "Why not?"
"The Chancellor of England told me that as the king failed Northumberland began to make plans to be rid of Mary. He has somehow tricked the dying king to name Jane Grey as his heir and disqualified both Mary and the accursed red-haired bitch because they were declared illegitimate. And the whole Council has been coerced into signing agreement to this device."
For a long moment Rhoslyn was silent, then slowly she shook her head. "It does not matter. Mary will never accept it. The king is not yet of age; his will can have no validity, specially not reaching so far for an heir when one of the direct blood stands ready."
"Of course. Northumberland knows that and it is why he decided Mary must die. He cannot have her as queen bringing back the Catholic rite, and in that, according to Chancellor Rich, the whole Court agrees to some extent. They have all been following the reformed religion and some have pressed Mary hard to conform."
"Yes. I understand. I will be doubly careful and present what you tell me to the other ladies as a fearful speculation."
"No, you do not understand," Vidal said, his voice sharper. "If you and Mary's other servants contrive to keep her safe from secret attacks, Northumberland is so desperate that he is prepared to use force."
"Force?" Rhoslyn breathed. "What kind of force? Will he bring the army to attack Hunsdon? Oh, I think the whole country would rise if he did that."
"What Rich told me was that Northumberland will write to Mary and bid her come to Greenwich, or perhaps London, to say fare well to her dying brother. On the road a large detachment of royal guards will meet her. There would be nothing to arouse popular suspicion in an honor guard being sent out to greet Mary. Rich does not know where they would take her, but she will be a prisoner then and easy prey to an 'accident' or 'illness'."
"I see." Rhoslyn stood biting her lip. "Oh, it will be very hard to dissuade her from going to Edward. She will hope for a last minute conversion that would save his soul."
"That is no problem. I have already directed Rich to arrange for a high nobleman, recently restored to favor, to ride secretly to Mary and tell her her brother is already dead and the message a mere ruse to bring her into Northumberland's power."
"What nobleman?" Roslyn asked. "I am not certain Mary will believe just anyone."
Vidal shook his head. "That I cannot tell you. Rich himself did not know which of the courtiers he would be able to convince to ride to Mary without betraying him to Northumberland. As for who Mary will believe, surely you can do that much to her mind without any hint of the meddling getting back to Oberon."
Rhoslyn sighed thinking that if an idea inserted into Mary's mind could take root, by now she would dearly love her sister Elizabeth. In fact, when Rhoslyn slipped thoughts of Elizabeth's fondness for Mary herself or of how clever and dignified Elizabeth had become into Mary's mind, they only seemed to make Mary distrust herself and cling more firmly to her past judgement that Elizabeth was a bastard who would drive out the old faith.
"It is not easy to influence Mary's mind on most things," she said slowly. "Oh, I could easily make her even more of a fanatic about her religion, but in most things she is so distrustful of herself that if I try to make her think this or that nobleman is trustworthy, she will immediately suspect herself of some weakness toward him and send him away."
"This is too important to leave in the hands of someone so unsure of herself, so afraid to act," Aurilia sneered. "We need Mary safe, not a lot of excuses for her failure." She put a hand on Vidal's arm. "Is there not some Sidhe you could send to take Rhoslyn's place, my lord?"
Rhoslyn laughed. "After my being Mary's servant for nearly twenty years? Who could know how I act, what I am accustomed to say, who are my intimates. No, there is no one who could take my place and to send a new servant . . . She would not be allowed anywhere near Mary. I am what you have, but I do care for Lady Mary and I assure you I will do my very best to keep her safe. I thank you for the warning you have given."
Vidal patted Aurilia's hand. He knew she did not like Rhoslyn. Well, he was not too fond of Rhoslyn himself, but she was right about her position with Mary. And Vidal was certain Rhoslyn spoke the truth about her fondness for Mary and would protect her.
He would have liked Pasgen, who was considerably more powerful, to have joined with his sister in protecting Mary from Northumberland's plots. Vidal's eyes narrowed. He would indeed send a message to the empty house. He would send a message to Pasgen detailing the danger in which Mary was and Roslyn with her.
"We have a little time," Vidal said, "a few days at least, perhaps a week or two until the boy is dead." Something moved, a darker shadow in the shadow by the door. Vidal's eyes flicked to it and then fixed on Rhoslyn's face. "I will think about what help I can send that will cause no disturbance in Mary's household." He nodded. "And now you had better do as you suggested and go back to guard your lady."
Rhoslyn was surprised. She had been sure that Vidal was going to make some suggestion concerning the guarding of Mary before he had momentarily looked away. However, the movement of his eyes had been so swift before they came back to her face that she assumed a conflicting thought had changed his mind about speaking. In any case she had no intention of lingering when she had been given leave to go. Holding such strong shields was draining and she did not want to draw on the disgusting power of Caer Mordwyn.
The door opened and then closed behind Rhoslyn. Vidal waited, watching Aurilia's face. When the frown on her brow smoothed, which indicated that Rhoslyn was gone, he looked again at the shadows near the door and gestured.
A small, pallid Sidhe fell to his knees. Slowly, clearly unwillingly, at another gesture he crawled forward until he was near the dais on which Vidal's and Aurilia's almost-thrones sat.
"And have you bespoke the Evil in Alhambra?" Vidal asked. "And where have you been all this while?"
The small Sidhe, trembling, his form wavering slightly, did not reply directly to Vidal's questions. Instead, he said, "If Rhoslyn is your servant, lord prince, she is a traitor." His voice squeaked with fear.
"I said so, my lord," Aurilia remarked with satisfaction.
"I am not greatly surprised," Vidal said calmly, "but she serves a necessary purpose now. When I have no need of her, I will . . ." Actually he did not know what he would or could do. To deal with Rhoslyn meant a confrontation with Pasgen and he was not sure he was ready for that, but he was not going to expose that weakness. He let his voice fade and fixed his gaze on the shadow-Sidhe. "I will do what is necessary. But what makes you say she is a traitor, Dakari?"
"Because I know her. I have seen her in the company of two of the elder Sidhe and of that mortal marked with Oberon's star. They were all together in Alhambra. The mortal serves the Bright Court and the elder Sidhe—"
Vidal made an impatient gesture and Dakari fell silent. "The mortal is nothing. He has no magic at all. Only Oberon's protection keeps him alive."
As he said the words, Vidal remembered Harry's gun and the iron dart that had almost killed him. But that was in the mortal world and after a battle with Denoriel; here Underhill Vidal knew his power was far greater. Nonetheless he did not choose to think about Henry FitzRoy.
"And the elder Sidhe do not well know the difference between Dark Court and Bright," he continued hastily. "I would liefer they were not mixed into this matter, but when we hold Alhambra they will sink into Dreaming again. More important is my question, which you never answered. Have you approached and spoken with the Evil there? Can we move into Alhambra?"
"It would not listen to me," Dakari wept. "I did try to speak to It, to tell It of our admiration and desire to serve It, but It made no response other than sending a . . . a black glob that I am sure would have swallowed me if I remained. Later the elder Sidhe came again and destroyed the black thing of the Evil's making. They did other things too; I have followed them many times. They have brought silver worked into mystical signs and placed it all over the elfhame. Then the mortal came with iron, also worked into signs which he placed throughout the palace. Now the Evil is diminishing. I can barely feel it."
"It seems they are trying to destroy the Evil," Aurilia said, frowning. "That is impossible but I do not like it. It is possible that the Evil will be driven out. I do not like it. Once It is gone, the Bright Court will send Sidhe to take up residence there and we will have to fight for the place."
"So? We have fought the Bright Court before and seized what we wanted."
Aurilia shook her head. "That was a very long time ago when the whole world was in turmoil and the Dark Court was very strong and as numerous as mortals. Your followers are increased since you were taken by the mist, but not to the point that they can overwhelm by numbers, and the knights of the Bright Court are not to be dismissed lightly."
Vidal glanced sidelong at her, not liking what he heard. It was the first mention she had made of the benefits to the Dark Court during the period in which she had ruled Caer Mordwyn. He remembered his unwise attack on the domain called the empty house to punish Pasgen and to bring him to heel. Deep inside something hot roiled and nearly burst. Vidal suppressed it with four years of practice at burying rage. The attack had cost half his subjects, and driven Pasgen openly to renounce his allegiance. Unwise, yes, but he did not like Aurilia's reminder.
Nonetheless he said calmly, "You are the one who wanted Alhambra and I so much wish to please you that I am willing to fight for it if I must. It was a great making, as great as any of Oberon's better works. However, I agree that to take it by agreement with the Evil is better than battle with the Bright Court." He turned from Aurilia to look at Dakari. "Now is the best time, while the Evil is under attack, to offer assistance. Tell It we will remove the iron and the silver and welcome among us any of Its creatures that do not attack us."
Dakari collapsed on the floor, weeping. "I cannot," he wailed. "How can I remove iron? To go near it racks me with pain. To touch it would kill me."
"Fool." Vidal sighed, but he did not release a punishing bolt or his little needles of agony. "Take a witch or a werewolf with you. They can gather up the iron. You can pave the way for them by removing the silver. And do not tell me passing the iron will hurt you. So long as you do not touch it or remain long near it you will come to no harm."
There was hardly more than a shadow on the floor near the dais now, only a wavering, flickering outline of a Sidhe. "They will not obey me," the shadow thing sobbed.
That was true enough, Vidal realized; this Sidhe was too weak to command obedience from anything. Vidal grimaced. He would need to give Dakari an amulet that would force a werewolf or witch to obey, but Vidal hated the thought of allowing any of his Dark Sidhe, even so weak a creature as Dakari, to command the creatures that served him. Aurilia put a hand on his arm.
"There are Wahib and Wahiba," she said, smiling broadly so that all her sharp pointed teeth showed. "They were insolent the last time I bade them bring me a child and brought so scrawny a creature that I could get almost no blood from it. And Wahib had bitten it so the blood was foul. They need a lesson."
"So they do." Vidal smiled back at her. And it was Aurilia the witch and werewolf would blame for their degradation. "Will you make the amulet then to bind them to service with Dakari?"
Aurilia laughed. "Yes. Yes I will." She looked down at the greyish mist leaking away from the dais. "Come back in a mortal day, and I will give you an amulet that will make one witch, the witch Wahiba and her son Wahib, the werewolf, obedient to you."
The mist firmed and ceased moving. The shadow of a Sidhe looked up at Aurilia and the thin voice whined,. "But if the iron and silver that the Sidhe of the Bright Court set in Alhambra are removed, they will know someone has been there. They will search for me . . ."
"Then you had better work swiftly both to remove the silver and iron sigils and to convince the Evil to receive us," Aurilia said sharply without sympathy and waved at the shadow to be gone.
When they were alone she said to Vidal, "That is a weak reed on which to fix our hope of taking Alhambra."
Vidal nodded indifferently. "And we may not get it, but there is still El Dorado for you, and to tell the truth I am much more concerned about Mary's safety than taking possession of either of those domains. When Mary is queen, so much power from pain and misery will flood down upon us that I will be able to make a domain for you if Alhambra and El Dorado are taken by the Bright Court."
Aurilia's lower lip protruded in an ugly pout. "I do not want your making. You are strong, but no artist. Besides, I want Alhambra because the Bright Court desires it."
"Then we will take it from them. I tell you, Mary must be queen. When Mary is queen we will have power to spare to drive the liosalfar out of any domain we desire. We will be fat and rich, but Mary must come to the throne, and now she is in great danger."
The pout became less pronounced. "I agree that Mary must be queen, but if you do not think Rhoslyn is enough to protect her—"
"To keep Mary safe from personal attack, Rhoslyn is enough," Vidal interrupted. "She always pretends to be weaker than she is. But according to Rich, Northumberland is truly desperate. I think he will decide to send a troop to take Mary prisoner, possibly to arrange that she have an 'accident,' and Rhoslyn can do nothing about that."
"Then what will you do?"
Vidal stared out across the room for a moment. "First I will tell Albertus to call up the men he hired to capture Elizabeth. They failed at that but there are more of them now and many dedicated to serving Mary and bringing back the old rite. They will gladly fight or distract Northumberland's men, which will give Mary time to find a haven. Second, I will leave a message for Pasgen that Rhoslyn might be destroyed in Northumberland's attempt on Mary. Rhoslyn will not go with Pasgen leaving Mary to her fate. Thus Pasgen will have to save them both."
"How?"
Vidal laughed aloud. "I have no idea but Pasgen may well be strong enough to build a Gate and drag the women through. Mary will know something strange happened but let her cry aloud of magic if she wishes. Either Rhoslyn will be able to wipe what happened from Mary's mind or Mary will only be able to describe Pasgen as the magic maker. And if the tale comes back to Oberon and invites His Majesty's displeasure in Pasgen . . . tant pis as they say in Melusine."