The Giants' Dance (39 page)

As the Maceugh sat down beside his own wife he may have seemed serenely untroubled, but the matter that Lord Dudlea had put to him was still turning inside his head. The plan to hamper Richard of Ebor's return was allconsuming. Dudlea had already said he would not wait long for the Maceugh's answer, but there were things that must be thought through before Will could make any move. What, for instance, if the deadly plan had not come from Duke Henry? There was only Dudlea's word that it was
so. True, the plan carried the odour of Henry of Mells about it – it was simple and violent and against all the rules of chivalry, but that was hardly proof that it was Henry's idea.

Had it perhaps come from Maskull? Much else that stank of treachery did. This plan was simple, and meant to be final, but it seemed unlikely to be the sorcerer's doing, for, surely, if Duke Richard died in exile, the Ebor claim to the throne would vanish and the war would cease. According to Gwydion, that was the last thing Maskull wanted, because the war was the chief means by which he was steering the fate of the world along its collision course.

Then, might the plan have come from the queen? Or even from Dudlea himself? The first seemed more likely, but it was hard to tell. Either one might think that killing Duke Richard offered the best hope of putting an end to the war, but that was to ignore the part played by the battlestones. While those troublesome nuggets of malice remained there could be no peace. And so perhaps all attempts to kill Duke Richard were already doomed to fail.

Will glanced at his wife. She ate sparingly, taking only a token of the food that was set before her. Her gladness over receiving news of Bethe had already turned into a pressing desire to see her daughter again. He could feel the torment she was suffering, and his admiration for her doubled again – she would not agree to leave the court without him, not even now that her own life had come under threat.

The sacrifices we make for you, Gwydion, Will thought bleakly. If Morann had brought better news – or worse even – then we'd know where we stood.

Morann had, in the end, done little to help him make up his mind. All day Will had been tempted to gallop out from Castle Corben on an errand of his own: Nothing
magical, just a day's ride to try to find the nearest lign, to make a start getting onto the track of the next stone. Sometimes, when the moon's phase was fat and gibbous, when it rode the ecliptic like a great misshapen pearl set in a silver ring, he could sense the lorc calling to him. When the flows were strong he could feel something a few leagues to the east. It seemed like the Tanne lign – the lign of the oak – the same one on which they had found the Plaguestone. And on nights of exceptional clarity there were hints and echoes of other stones further away to north and south. But the one that lay almost due east was the strongest.

A tongue of flame flashed out as Jarred ate fire and then spewed it forth again like a dragon. He stepped and strutted for the feasting lords. Silken scarves appeared from ears and mouths, playing cards and coins flew and vanished, wine was poured from empty vessels. How Jarred delighted in the applause and bewilderment of those who watched. Will saw the oddness of the man, the need that had driven him to become master of a hundred petty illusions and sleights of hand that Gwydion said held true magic to ridicule. And while Jarred diverted the crowd, Maskull preyed upon it. The harm-doer walked the hall unseen, sliding lightly from place to place, listening to private talk, to those who had taken too much wine, hearing what passed in confidence between the dangerous Lord Dudlea and his bright-eyed lady, now whispering secrets to the queen, whose nostrils flared and whose black eyes flashed at what was reported.

Willow put her mouth close to Will's ear. ‘There's a new rumour among the ladies.'

Will noted the sorcerer lingering near Lord Strange, and nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Go on.'

‘They're saying that this time Maskull has returned to court and brought a creature with him.'

He turned. ‘A
creature
?'

‘They are all terrified of it.'

‘Of it…or the idea of it?'

‘I think it's real enough.' Willow's smile broadened, making it seem to anyone who watched that what she was saying was amusing and trivial. But even her gaiety attracted dark glances. Unlike most of the ladies present, her hair was uncovered and fell in glossy auburn locks, following the style of the Blessed Isle. Will saw envy in the eyes of many, and most especially in those attired according to the code of modesty recommended by the Sightless Ones. The knife-eyed women with whom the queen chose to surround herself were plain and mousy, and all of them delighted far too much in destructive gossip.

‘So far as I can tell, no one has yet seen the creature,' Willow said, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. ‘But there's supposed to be a reason for that.'

Will frowned. ‘There would have to be.'

‘They're saying Maskull has brought something so hideous that the very sight of it turns people to stone. Is that possible?'

Will took a sip of wine. ‘It's not impossible. Our absent friend has in the past spoken to me of a creature hatched from a cock's egg by a toad that has the power to kill by its glance alone.'

‘Do you think Maskull's brought a cockatrice here?'

‘I doubt that. He is a subtler mover than that.'

Will's glance now took in the web of shifting alliances that tied the court together. He was aware of the eyes that regarded him with interest. Which of them knows about the plot to kill Duke Richard? he wondered. Which of them knows that I've been approached?

His skin prickled as the sorcerer came closer. Maskull was hard to see, a creature of all appearances and none.
His lithe movements caused Will to shudder as others were made to shudder by the movements of a spider.

Though he was not present in plain sight, Will could see that his suit was of midnight black set with silver signs. He wore spurs like a knight, yet he moved as soundlessly as a sneak-thief. Will's mind dug deeper into the sorcerer's face, sensing another duplicity there. It recoiled from the ghastly death's-head that shimmered beneath the fair and youthful appearance which Maskull kept on show for the queen's eyes.

Will deliberately looked elsewhere – to where the queen and Duke Henry spoke to one another like lovers. Beside them, pale, sad Hal stared mournfully into the middle distance. Will saw the full shame of the king – the footman who stood by and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a cloth, while under the table the queen touched the thigh of the young duke so that he leaned in on her ardently. Yet while the mother of Henry's half-brother encouraged Henry's desires, her glance also flirted with his two foremost rivals. And all this was played out while poor, halfmad Hal gazed on.

As the sorcerer came within a dozen paces Will made a special effort to look through him. It was hard to do. Maskull's eyes were black vents that led into another world. Not dead, nor yet like the glassy jewels of the violently insane, but eyes with a strange, compelling quality whose glance was unavoidable. Maskull moved away, and Will relaxed, only then realizing the assault he had been under. He squeezed Willow's hand, glad that she could see nothing of Maskull, but then he looked casually back and found with a shock that he was staring directly at the sorcerer.

He looked away again quickly, but he had been charmed and maybe caught too. Maskull was now on the other side of the hall, but he danced quickly around the room, moving like a black flame. Will's eyes steadfastly did not follow. He turned again to Willow who was the safest of havens, but
she was not looking his way. He dared not touch her for fear his gesture would be misunderstood as his calling attention to some inexplicable oddity he had seen shimmering in the air. He dared not mark his talent that way and said something jestful to a knight who sat nearby. The man laughed and Will laughed back, hoping that his braying would break the spell, or mask his fear. But, no. Maskull turned as if into the attack. He roared soundlessly into Will's face, forcing a flinch.

But Will rose to his feet and with a smile walked directly at Maskull who danced nimbly away, avoiding contact by the smallest of fractions. Will did not turn aside. Instead he stepped to the window and closed it, saying calmly, ‘Is it just me? Or is there a cold draught in here?'

When Maskull broke off his inspection and whirled away, Will felt a weakness in his knees and was glad to sit down again. Then Jarred swept away the danger by leaping up onto a table top and shrieking, then diving off into…
what
?

Into nothingness it seemed.

He vanished. In a black flash. Gone. Through a hoop into nowhere. Not even a wisp of smoke remained.

Those who saw it happen grabbed their neighbours and pointed to where the conjuror had disappeared. Astonishment was on many faces. ‘Did you see that?
Did you see what Jarred just did
?' And, as if the queen's conjuror was still there to receive it, they yelled their applause and stamped their fists into the table tops and waited for him to reappear to take his bow, which he did a moment later high on the gallery that overlooked the far end of the hall.

Minstrels took their places. There was much movement in the hall. Only half those present were seated now.

‘Let the music begin!' Jarred called down to them all, spreading his arms wide.

‘That was real magic,' Will murmured as the music struck up.

‘I thought so,' Willow answered, pulling him behind a pillar. ‘I wonder where Jarred learned a trick like that.'

‘I can guess. But if he learned it from Maskull, he'll live to regret it.'

The moment Will looked away, his eyes ran into Maskull again. He turned suddenly, making it seem as if he had forgotten something. Then he swooped on one of the fruit dishes and took an apple. He lounged beside another pillar and began to pare the skin from it with his knife as Maskull's attention focused on him. After a long moment the sorcerer's eyes slid away. Will's heart beat faster, then faster again as he realized the queen herself had moved to the other side of the pillar. He had never before been so close to her. He could smell her perfume – lilies. He heard Maskull speaking insistently. Like his eyes, his voice was at once intense and seductive. He spoke at length and Will heard it all.

‘…once I was known as a maker of weapons, but now I have fashioned a thing of rare beauty. It is a device of greater power than any that has yet been made. It shall be my gift to you.'

The queen looked to her advisor with a steely eye. Her fist tightened and she said softly, ‘Final victory!'

Will inched a little further round the pillar. Queen Mag's face was rapturous, her eyes upcast towards Maskull's own, her lips barely moving as she spoke. ‘I will not – cannot – rest until Ebor and all his spawn are dead.'

‘You shall be asked to make no peace until that is done.'

The queen smiled. ‘I have already promised Henry of Mells the quill I shall use to sign the peace. I have told him it is to be dipped in Ebor's blood!'

Maskull's voice changed. Malice rippled through it, so that it almost matched the queen's own. ‘You see? Events are unfolding as I have always told you they would. Even
the most painstaking of balances may be thrown down. And remember this great truth: “In all things it is more difficult to build up than to tear down.” That is why we shall win. The very nature of the world works in our favour!'

Then Duke Henry came to speak with the queen, his eyes suspicious to find her alone yet in such an exultant mood. He wore a querulous expression. ‘When will you tell them?'

‘Soon.'

‘When?' he repeated sulkily, unaware that Maskull was observing him from a distance of less than one pace. ‘I must know.'

‘Henry, your impatience is showing.'

‘It's past Hal's bed time. He's blubbering. He must have been at the wine again—' Then, with sudden venom, ‘You! What are you doing there?'

Will stiffened.

‘I asked you a question, Islander!'

‘We are all here at the queen's command.' Will felt Maskull's adamant gaze fall upon him.

‘You're eavesdropping…' The duke's eyes narrowed to two slivers of jet. ‘I'm sure I
know
you.'

What saved Will was the banging of a heavy candle holder on a table top to quell the noise. Henry turned on his heel, leaving an intangible threat hanging in the air. He and the queen moved quickly through the crowd towards King Hal who was still enthroned in pride of place. The gathering parted before them. It backed away as the queen turned about and came to a halt beside her husband. Sensing more vital prey, Maskull joined them.

The queen's eyes glittered brightly, and then she smiled. ‘My lords – the king and I welcome you to this happy celebration of the fifteenth year of our marriage. However, a matter has arisen that requires our immediate attention…'

Will took his wife's hand and drew her close in beside
him. The queen was an expert at twisting words. She wormed her way into naive hearts, showing by turns helplessness and gratitude. She flattered and she promised, told everyone what they most wanted to hear before exacting her price. As she spoke Will thought again of the rede that warned against believing what showed on the surface and advised instead taking a close look at what lay below.

‘…and therefore, my lords,' the queen concluded, ‘his grace the king announces a Great Council against treason to be held here at Castle Corben in seven days' time. At that Council you will be able to show your loyalty to your sovereign.'

As the plucking of lutes and the beating of tabrets and timbrels started up again, a hundred excited conversations began. Willow said, ‘What did she mean by a Great Council against treason?'

‘It's Maskull's doing.' Will glanced at the sorcerer, who lingered near Lord Dudlea. ‘He's going to try to gather all the nobles of the Realm here against Duke Richard.'