The Devil's Looking-Glass - By Mark Chadbourn Page 0,131

he snatched a sizzling torch from the wall and reflected its ruddy light with the obsidian mirror. Lines of silver filigree glimmered on the basalt: stars, a moon, a sun, a host of magical symbols of the kind he had only ever seen before in Dee’s shadowy chamber in the Black Gallery. And there, at the centre of them, the faint outline of an arched door shimmered. Handing the mirror and torch to Grace, Will pressed round the edge of the shape until he heard a click and the hidden door slid open.

The spies dragged their prisoner into the dark space. It was not a moment too soon. The tumult crashed against the edge of the courtyard as the door whispered shut behind them. His hand trembling, his face pale, Carpenter levelled his rapier, ready to repel any who followed. Shrieks and cries rang through the stone wall, but after a moment they began to pass by. Carpenter exhaled, his shoulders sagging as his blade fell.

Will took the torch and held it high to reveal a flight of stone steps disappearing down into the dark. As they paused to catch their breath, Grace could contain herself no longer. She threw her arms round Jenny, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder. Awkward and unsure, Jenny’s hands wavered over the younger woman for a moment before she returned the embrace.

‘Do you know me yet?’ Grace said between juddering sobs. ‘My heart will break if you remain a stranger. So long have I yearned for your return.’

Jenny held her sister’s tear-streaked face between her hands and gazed into the young girl’s eyes. Her brow cleared, and she smiled. ‘I remember holding a little girl’s hand as we searched for wild flowers in the wood. And telling stories under the covers when we were supposed to be asleep.’ She stroked the centre of her forehead. ‘I thought it a dream, insubstantial. But now I see you here, the visions grow clearer by the moment.’

As she pulled back, Grace bit her lip. ‘I feared you dead. Oh, I lost faith, Jenny. Only Will . . .’ She choked back the words. ‘Will never lost his belief that you would return to us. Even in the darkest days, he kept a candle in his heart, and that in turn brought comfort to me.’

Jenny looked beyond her sister’s shoulder to where Will was beginning to descend the stone staircase. While Meg and Launceston pricked Mandraxas with their daggers to follow, Will sensed Jenny hurrying to catch him up. Looking back, he saw her glance at the Fay and whisper, ‘I beg you not to hurt him.’

‘He is our foe and I have reached agreement with Deortha to take his life in exchange for our freedom. Your freedom,’ Will replied, ignoring a pang of jealousy.

‘Whatever you might think of him, he has shown me many kindnesses during my long years in the City of Gold.’ He felt her breath on his ear as they descended into the dark.

‘You love him? Even though he stole you from all you knew?’ he whispered, his voice sounding too harsh in the stillness.

‘When I was first brought here, I cried every day. I cried for the man I had lost.’ She swallowed and added quietly, ‘And you?’

He nodded, feeling the rawness of the memory, even after all the time that had passed.

‘But over the days and years, the life I had faded like a dream,’ she continued. ‘Soon this place, and Mandraxas, was all I knew. And he was gentle and caring, and he showed me love—’

‘They are not capable of love,’ Will interrupted, his voice hard. Moisture now glistened on the walls.

‘They are,’ she protested. ‘They are no different from us.’

‘And did you love him?’ Will asked coldly. He paused, looking into her face. From further up the steps, he heard the shuffle of feet as Grace, the other spies and their prisoner descended cautiously.

‘You must understand, it was all I knew—’

Will turned away and continued his descent, his expression unreadable. ‘My plans for the King’s future were made long ago. Nothing will alter them.’ He increased his pace before she could protest.

The staircase opened out on to a long, low-ceilinged chamber barely lit by the glow of four candles arranged on the cardinal points of a circle inscribed on the dusty flagstones. Along the walls, a multitude of gilt-framed mirrors each as big as a man glittered in the reflected light. As Will stepped into the room, rapier drawn,