The Devil's Looking-Glass - By Mark Chadbourn Page 0,32
down to obscure their identities.
Will Swyfte glanced suspiciously at a merchant’s cart further along the quay. The horse snorted and stamped its hooves as the bleary-eyed driver nodded in his seat. Two bickering labourers heaved an oak cask of salt beef off the back of the cart. Cursing, the men lowered the barrel to the cobbles and then trundled it to the winch beside the Gauntlet. The provisioning of the galleon was almost complete, salt fish, biscuit, wine, water and rice all stored in the hold. They would be set to sail at dawn, as planned. Will hid his unease. It had been seven days since the Faerie Queen’s warning, three since Launceston and Carpenter had discovered the frozen soldier on the river bank, with nary a sign of the Unseelie Court.
‘Then we have agreement?’ the other man enquired. Sir Walter Raleigh was many things – explorer, occasional spy, soldier – and famed at home and abroad, yet since he had fallen from the Queen’s favour he had spent his days skulking away from attention. Under his cloak, his fine midnight-blue doublet with jewelled buttons showed he had not lost his taste for flamboyance, Will noted, but his refined features had hardened.
‘You have met your side of the bargain. It seems your secret society can achieve great things, and with speed.’
Raleigh turned his face away as one of the labourers strode towards the inn. ‘In the ranks of the School of Night we have many men of wealth and influence,’ he whispered. ‘Your request was difficult at such short notice, but not impossible.’ He held his hands wide. ‘See, Master Swyfte. Together we can achieve great things.’
Will’s mind swam with the faces of the men he had learned were part of Raleigh’s conspiracy: Henry Percy, the Wizard Earl, and Dr Dee himself; George Chapman, the playwright, Thomas Harriot who studied the stars and numbers, and good Kit Marlowe. Raleigh had hinted that there were many more besides, men of good standing who showed one face to the Queen and another in their private meetings, nobles and educated commoners, and the brave explorers who had uncovered the darkest secrets of the New World. The School of Night wished to chart a course away from the never-ending war between England and the Unseelie Court, but Will suspected the conspirators had a further agenda that had grown out of their love of forbidden knowledge. But that was a consideration for another day.
‘And your aid is given freely and without obligation?’ he asked with a wry smile. He did not wholly trust Raleigh, nor feel any desire to be indebted to him. Indeed, at that moment, he felt there was barely a man in the world that he could trust.
‘I am a genial fellow, Master Swyfte, but I did not achieve my place in the world by being naive. Quid pro quo. That is how every man does business.’
The spy’s attention was caught by a golden glow deep in the mist over the river. It moved steadily towards them.
‘You seem unsettled, sir. You fear the attack is imminent?’ Raleigh asked. He followed Will’s gaze, but appeared untroubled.
‘I prefer not to lower my guard at this late stage. Our defences hold for now, but the Unseelie Court are as cunning as snakes.’
The hazy light became a lantern swinging on a pole at the prow of a wherry. Two oarsmen heaved in unison. They were both bearded, in the manner of watermen, their thick woollen cloaks wrapped tight against the night’s chill.
‘The Charm Boat?’ Raleigh asked.
Will nodded. ‘It sails an unceasing course between the twin banks with Dee’s magical concoctions and amulets aboard. The Unseelie Court will not be able to use the wide Thames as a route into the heart of London.’
He thought how desperate they had all become. Dee’s protective magics had given them the illusion of security for so long, they had grown to think they were immune to the terrors that waited in the night. Now they had all been revealed as frightened children, from the lowest in the land to the Queen herself.
As the wherry eased out of the grey curtain, he saw it carried three passengers on the benches near the stern. The small, hunched shape in a hooded black cloak could only be Cecil, come to inspect the provisioning of the Gauntlet. Will watched the figure coldly. The other two men had the look of guards: implacable stares, broad shoulders, hands hidden inside cloaks where their daggers lay.