The Devil's Looking-Glass (30 page)

Launceston pursed his lips, watching the light shade to gold. ‘Four hours, I would say.’

‘Four hours until what?’

‘Until I have to listen to you bemoaning the oven heat that beats you down to the deck and wishing it was night again,’ the Earl sniffed, walking away.

Carpenter hurled a stream of abuse at the other man’s back. Laughing to himself, Will stood and went in search of the sorcerer. As he walked, he sucked in a deep breath, relieved that this long night had ended far better than he could have hoped when he first set foot upon the island. Along the path to the beach, he found Dee resting beside a moss-draped statue of a nymph. ‘You have completed your ritual, then, doctor?’ he asked.

‘That business came so much easier when I was hiding behind the walls of my madness,’ the old man grumbled.

To the west, the lightening sky flickered with folds of a rainbow of illumination. Will felt reminded of the green lights he had seen in the northern skies in Scotland. ‘What is that strange display?’ he asked, his brow creasing. ‘More of your magics?’

Dee glanced up, the odd radiance playing in his eyes. ‘This island stands on the boundary between the world we know and whatever lies beyond.’

‘The place where the dead go?’

‘Some call it such. Since our most ancient times we have always looked to where the sun sets . . . the light fades . . . and thought it the home of those who have moved on. When I was a boy, my father told me about the boat that waits by the shore to ferry the souls of the newly departed across the great wide ocean for judgement. And then, on the night he died, I saw the boat waiting and his own pale shade walking the lane from our house.’ He shook his head as if to dispel the memory, and looked away. ‘It is the home of the Unseelie Court,’ he said in a quiet voice.

Will sensed a confusion of thoughts in the old man. Dee had spent his days probing the great mysteries that enveloped life, and here was one of the greatest, a puzzle that wrapped up life and death and grief and yearning, the promise and threat of greater powers than man’s, and all man’s fears about the purpose of life.

‘What if,’ Dee had said to him once, staring deep into the blazing fire in the Black Gallery, ‘man was only placed upon this world as sport for higher powers?’

Without another word, the old man trudged down the path
towards
the shore. Will was about to follow, but heard Courtenay calling him. With a sigh, he returned to the courtyard where a few men had been sifting through the wreckage of the tower for anything that could be salvaged.

‘Le Gris’s men have been released from their torment and can now face their just rewards in Heaven or Hell,’ he said, cracking his knuckles. ‘Another triumph for England’s finest. By noon I will have charted a course for the island of Hispaniola to take on fresh water and supplies. And if we encounter any Spanish dogs, it will be a joy to despatch them after the things we have battled these past weeks. And then to fair Albion. With a good wind, Dee can be rebuilding our defences with his cursed sorcery before the bluebells have gone from the woods in Kent.’

‘May good fortune watch over you, Captain Courtenay,’ Will said, clapping a hand on the other man’s arm. ‘You and your crew have earned the Queen’s gratitude, and a joyous release in the stews of Bankside.’

Courtenay’s eyes narrowed. ‘You speak as if you are not sailing with us.’

The spy glanced back to the dancing lights in the western sky. ‘It was never my intention to return to England. I am a lost soul, captain, and I must find my way to the land of the dead. This morning I will take le Gris’s ship and a skeleton crew and sail to the home of the Unseelie Court. Nothing shall stop me finding the answers I seek. And then I will bring the walls of that fortress crashing down, though it cost me my life.’

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THE RIBBON OF
white sand glowed in the morning sun. Sparkling blue sea lapped in the cove and a cooling breeze rustled through the woods as the two men wandered along the shore. The intoxicating scent of the large pink flowers on the spiky-leaved shrubs along the treeline drifted down to meet the salty air.

‘You are a fool,’ Dee growled. The skirts of his purple robe swept a wide path along the beach.

Will felt an unfamiliar lightness now he had finally given voice to the inevitability of his destination. ‘If it is foolishness to want an end to the torment of unanswered questions, then so be it.’

‘The answers may be worse. Have you thought of that?’

Will shrugged. ‘It is a gamble I am prepared to take.’ If only the alchemist knew how much he had risked, he thought. How long it seemed since that night in the Liverpool rooming house when he had first started to form his plan. The sight of Jenny in the obsidian mirror had let loose a rush of desperate emotions and thoughts, as if the dam holding back all those years of misery had suddenly broken. He still felt surprised how little it had troubled him to put the Queen, and all England, up as his stakes in his
great
gamble. Never would he alone have been able to amass the fortune necessary to fund a galleon to sail to the New World in search of Jenny. But once Meg had told him that was Dee’s destination, he knew he could trick the Crown or the School of Night into giving him what he needed. And so he had let the alchemist go, knowing full well that the old man could have fallen into the Unseelie Court’s hands and everything he held dear been washed away in a tide of blood. All for Jenny.

‘You have always been a gambler, Swyfte, with your own life and with others’. That recklessness will be your downfall.’ Though the tone of his voice was accusatory Dee’s look was not unkind.

‘My life was blown off course that day – the day the person I cared for more than any other disappeared,’ the spy replied, looking to the far horizon. ‘I have made do as best I can, but not a day has passed when I have not thought of her. I am trapped in a maze where my mind keeps me in one place, and I would be free of it. What happened to her that day? Why was she chosen, and not me? Has she suffered? Has she endured—’ The words caught in his throat. ‘These questions haunt me.’

Dee snorted. ‘You speak as if these things matter.’

Will’s head whipped round. ‘They matter to me.’

The old man swept out an arm to indicate the sea and the island. ‘All this is illusion, this world, a stage on which we play out parts assigned to us. We wallow in the mundane detail of our life, all the petty hardships and the struggles that occupy our every waking moment, and we lose ourselves in them. They take on an import that far exceeds their worth. They are a distraction, no more, and we are complicit in allowing ourselves to be distracted because those things, however hard, are easier to comprehend than the greater questions that hang over us. Who plays the fiddle and pipes, and why must we be forced to dance? The answers we seek are here, but they are hidden amongst the illusion, in the smallest detail.’ He snatched up a handful of sand and let the grains trail out of his clenched fist. ‘We only have to sift and look and pull the jewels from the mud.’

‘And yet these things you dismiss so easily cause us so much pain. That cannot be discounted so readily, doctor. Though all be illusion, we still hurt.’

Dee smiled. ‘Perhaps that is one of the jewels. When you hurt, you are forced to look more closely. The mundane details . . .’ he snapped his fingers, ‘dissolve.’

‘Perhaps.’ Will turned his face to the sun, enjoying the unfamiliar warmth on his skin. ‘But I know this, doctor. When you look away from that mortal suffering, you become inured to it, and thereby allow it to endure. Indeed, if there is no substance to it, only one further step is needed to perpetrate that hurt, for it is like the mist, insubstantial and soon gone.’ He waved his fingers in front of him. ‘There are dangers in thinking too much and removing yourself from human concerns, doctor.’

‘And you feel too much,’ the alchemist snapped before catching himself. ‘Perhaps the true path lies somewhere between, I give you that. I am not blind to my many and varied flaws, Master Swyfte, though you think me as hard-hearted as the rocks of that reef.’

‘I know the true nature of the Mooncalf.’ Will found himself unable to keep the cold tone from his voice.

After a long moment, Dee replied, ‘In my defence, I can only say that I was in the throes of my self-inflicted madness.’

‘You destroyed a man’s life to provide yourself with a guardian.’

The alchemist sighed. ‘You know as well as I that this business makes monsters of all of us. We each do things we never dreamed of in the days of our youth. You say I am too distracted by scholarly pursuits, but I have devoted my life to this long battle with the Unseelie Court, to keep men safe and dreaming sweet dreams in their beds at night. I have sacrificed my youth, driven an ache deep into my bones and shattered my mind. Sometimes we are forced to do terrible things to prevent even greater atrocities. Should one man suffer to prevent the deaths of a hundred? A thousand? These are questions we should not have to ask ourselves. Most men can hide away and pretend such dilemmas do not exist, or
turn
up their noses and pass judgement upon those forced to make sacrifices to keep the realm secure. We are faced with the harsh reality every day, and we cannot flinch from its glare.’

When they reached the end of the beach, Will perched on the rocks where he had peered into the devil’s looking glass the previous night. He felt a troubling confusion. ‘Not too long ago, I might have agreed with you, doctor. But now I wonder if we should hold ourselves to a higher standard. The question you ask – should one man die to save a hundred? – is too simple. There is comfort in making the choice so easy, but good men should always suffer to uncover the more challenging but truer course.’

With the toe of his shoe, Dee flicked a green-shelled scuttling crab into a rock pool. ‘And I am not a good man, is that what you say? There is some truth in that. I was certainly a fool for losing myself in intellectual pursuit and failing to see that the angels with whom I thought I communed were in fact the Unseelie Court. How they must have laughed at my arrogance. Dr Dee, who thought he of all men had the power to speak with Heaven’s messengers. How easy it was to expose my weakness and then play a game to try to twist me to their ends.’

‘You were not unprepared, though.’

Dee smiled, rubbing his hands together. ‘I knew the Fay would come for me at some point, just not in that way. Long ago, I built defences deep inside me that would come into play should they ever try to seize control of my wits. Madness would consume me and I would flee England to a place where the Unseelie Court could not find me and use me against the Queen and Albion.’

Will came to a halt, in awe of what the alchemist had done. ‘Why here, so close to their home?’

‘Because if all seemed lost, I would allow them to take me into their midst and thereby destroy them.’ Dee stretched his arms wide as if rising from a deep sleep.

The spy’s ears pricked up. ‘How so?’

‘By denying them access to our world and trapping them in their own miserable land.’

‘But it is a place of wonder.’

‘So they say.’ Dee laughed. He waved his arm across the sunlit view. ‘More wonderful than our own home? Why, then, do those fiends sweat blood to take our green fields from us? No, there are more wonders here than you realize, and all the secrets the Unseelie Court need to understand their own forlorn existence. They are lost, Master Swyfte, and sometimes I believe more lost than us.’ He folded his arms, nodding to himself. ‘The “angels” told me of a beacon that keeps open the way between our worlds—’

‘The Tower of the Moon,’ Will interjected, recalling what he had learned from his conversation with the Faerie Queen.

The alchemist eyed him askance. ‘You are better informed than you appear, Master Swyfte. Yes, the Tower of the Moon. I would bring it crashing down and seal them in their dismal land for ever.’

‘And you with it?’

Dee shrugged. ‘A small price to pay.’

‘You are a courageous man.’ Will shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked out across the azure sea.

‘I am a fool and never you forget it. Only one thing troubles me now: the devil’s looking glass. Tell me you were not such a simpleton as to bring it here.’

‘I left it in your chamber at the Palace of Whitehall,’ Will lied. So Dee would not see his face, he ducked down to pick up a pebble.

‘At least some sense resides in that thick head of yours. I have spent my life keeping that mirror out of the Fay’s hands.’ His face darkened. ‘So much power resides in that thing it could change the course of this war in the blink of an eye.’

‘You have mastered it?’ Will asked. He threw the pebble out into the crashing waves.

‘I have heard tales,’ Dee mumbled, clearly knowing more than he was saying. ‘It keeps its secrets well. But the Unseelie Court could unlock it. Never must it be allowed to travel anywhere near those pale-skinned bastards.’

Will swallowed his guilt. Another gamble, worse by far than all the others. Yet the mirror was his only link with Jenny and he could no more give it up than his own life.

Reflecting on what he had learned, he lowered his eyes to watch the crab take shelter in a crevice in the rock pool. ‘It is so easy to hate our eternal Enemy for the miseries they have inflicted upon us – upon me, and Jenny. The Unseelie Court think us the wicked ones in this game. And there are many times when I am inclined to agree.’ He furrowed his brow, his voice reflective. ‘We have committed some terrible crimes in pursuit of victory, doctor. Yet, what a mess this business is. How simple it all seemed when we thought we were on the side of the angels, fighting devils. Now we know there are devils masquerading as angels on both sides.’

Further down the shore, a longboat pulled up and two sailors clambered out and splashed into the surf. They began to haul their vessel up the sand. Amongst a group of onlookers, Will saw Carpenter, Launceston and Strangewayes, and Meg and Grace.

‘Here is my question, doctor,’ he added. ‘When we fight monsters, must we become monsters?’