The Eighth Court (The Courts of the Feyr - By Mike Shevdon Page 0,149

didn’t ask for this.”

“The survivors are looking to you,” said Carler. “They need reassurance.”

“I’m not in a position to reassure anyone,” said Blackbird. “You call us survivors, and that’s all we are. Simply those who remain.”

“Nevertheless,” said Carler. “I would like to be able to reassure the minister that the danger has passed.”

“It’s gone. So has Niall. That’s all I know,” she said. “If I knew any more, I would tell you.”

A soldier in similar uniform trotted up, saluting smartly at Secretary Carler, hesitated and saluted Blackbird as well. She sighed. “Sir, the fire is contained and as far as we can ascertain the hostiles have been eliminated. Some may have escaped - it’s impossible to say. Lord Mellion is evacuating the survivors through the portal in the woods.”

“They’re called Ways,” sad Blackbird.

“Yes, Ma’am,” said the soldier.

“Assemble the men,” said Secretary Carler. “Get them back on board the chopper. You can allow the fire service in now, I think. They’ll want to make it safe. I expect they’ll pull down the chimneys.”

“What about any remains within the building, Sir?” asked the soldier.

“There was at least one human body in the house,” said Blackbird. “We would like the remains recovered if possible. There should be a funeral, or at least a memorial.”

“In a fire like that, Lady, the chances of recovery are small. The entire building collapsed,” said Carler. “The heat…”

“His name was Big Dave,” said Blackbird, “and there are those who will grieve his loss.” She glanced towards Lesley who stood apart, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, holding William.

“I will see what can be done,” said Secretary Carler. “Perhaps a symbolic gesture – some ashes from the fire.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “There should be something.”

The soldier saluted and trotted away again.

“You understand that it was not within our remit to intervene in matters internal to the Feyre,” said Secretary Carler.

“If the night had not gone as it did,” said Blackbird, “this morning’s prospect would be somewhat different for all of us.”

“I think you can hear the truth in my words, Lady, when I say that we had contingencies for that, but none of them were prospects I was looking forward to.”

“Let’s not mince words, Secretary,” said Blackbird with some bitterness. “You let us take the brunt, and only became involved when it looked like we would prevail.”

“The treaty–”

“The treaty is with the High Court of the Feyre, a body which I think you will find no longer exists. You chose your battle and your losses are light as a consequence. Ours are not.”

“The treaty has held for almost a thousand years, Lady. We regard it as a treaty with the Feyre, rather than with the High Court.”

“I can’t speak for the Feyre.” said Blackbird. “I only speak for myself.”

“What about the gifted?” said Carler. “What about the people who have yet to emerge, those whose gifts are still dormant?”

“You could have helped us,” said Blackbird. “Instead you chose to stand on the sidelines.”

“I have my orders, Lady,” he reminded her.

“And yet the choices we make are what defines us,” she said. “We are no longer the Eighth Court for that would imply there were seven others, and after tonight I’m not even sure we can muster one, never mind eight.”

“Lord Mellion–”

“Has his own concerns, though without his help we would have been truly lost. I will speak with him, Secretary, but not now. We need time.”

“Of course,” said the secretary.

“He’s out there somewhere,” said Blackbird.

“Who?” asked Carler.

“Niall. I can feel it in my bones. He did something. He’s not stupid – blindly loyal, impetuous, brave to the point of recklessness, but not stupid. He found a way…”

“Let’s hope so, Lady. He did say when we last met that he would arrange for the return of certain journals to the National Archive,” he said.

“Did he? What journals?”

“I think you know the journals I am referring to. They were taken after the incident with Ms Radisson in the National Archive. Is that something you’ll be able to help me with?”

“The fire has destroyed much,” said Blackbird. “It will be some time before we know the extent of the damage.”

“I see,” said Carler. “We are hoping that a new clerk may be appointed, along with the new Remembrancer.”

“You’re intending to continue with the ceremony?” asked Blackbird. “To what purpose? The wraithkin are here, what’s left of them,” she pointed out.

“The ceremony has always continued, Lady. No matter what. The journal will be useful for the new clerk. He or she will need to