The Eighth Court (The Courts of the Feyr - By Mike Shevdon Page 0,23
I don’t need a mystery. Just tell me what the matter is and I’ll try and help, OK.”
Alex shook her head. “It’s you who doesn’t understand, and anyway, I promised.”
“Promised who?”
Alex looked meaningfully at the mirror on the wall and then went to the desk and found a scrap of paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to Blackbird. On the piece of paper was a name: Claire Radisson.
FOUR
“Are you there?”
The voice whispered from the dark. “Of course.”
“They know about the safe. He was there. He nearly caught them doing it.”
“He didn’t.”
“What was he doing there?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have them now. There will be no more ceremony,” said the whisperer.
“They are talking about re-making the knives.”
“What does Teoth say?”
“He’s playing hard to get, making them work for it.”
“Good,” said the voice.
“Do you want me to say anything to him?”
There was no reply, only darkness.
“Fine.” After a moment, the shadow slipped away again.
“Very good,” said the whisperer, after the shadow had gone.
Alex led the journey down the Way. She wouldn’t even tell Blackbird where they were going, though it soon became obvious. The walk to Katherine’s house was mostly conducted in silence. When they reached the front door, Katherine opened it and hurried them inside. Claire Radisson was in Katherine’s lounge. There were cups of tea that had been made and left to go cold, and newspapers left open and discarded. Her impatience was written across her face.
“Veronica! Thank goodness you’re here.” Katherine looked taken aback at the use of the name Veronica, but let it go.
Blackbird took the seat opposite Claire, sinking too far into the upholstery for her liking. “I’m not sure how long I have,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you from something more important,” said Claire, taking offence.
“You’re not sorry, and I don’t have time for games,” said Blackbird. “So tell me.”
Claire cleared her throat, looking to Katherine for support. Katherine was seeing a side of Blackbird that she hadn’t seen before. “It started last week,” said Claire. “Jerry, the Remembrancer, you remember from the hospital?” Blackbird gave the slightest of nods. “Jerry has retired – Elizabeth insisted. They have a son, in Australia. Elizabeth said they would go on an extended visit, take Deborah too.”
“And get as far away from here as possible?” asked Blackbird.
“Something like that,” said Claire.
“Smart move. Go on.”
“It’s not as simple as that. Jerry is… was a senior member of the Queen’s Bench Division and there are arrangements to be made. He had lists and dates. All of that had to be rescheduled and–”
“Can we get to the meat of it?” asked Blackbird.
Claire clasped her hands together. “Last week his office was disturbed. There was nothing taken but things had been moved. I’ve worked with him for, oh, more years than I care to recall, and he has his ways. Things were out of place.”
“A potential successor, perhaps, having a look around?” asked Blackbird.
Claire continued. “I was very careful, after what happened. I wanted to know when things were meddled with. You never knew when there might be…” She glanced at Katherine, “whether they might try again. The ceremony this year, it went as planned but there was something missing. We did everything as we should, but it wasn’t right. If it goes well… I just know. Is that hard to believe?”
“No,” said Blackbird. She could hear a tension between truth and falsehood in Claire’s words, but she let it go. “Those are the sorts of feelings you should trust.”
“Afterwards Jerry knew too. He told me, after the ceremony. He said, he was on the point of saying, ‘Good number!’, and it stuck in his throat. He covered it with a sip of water, and the ceremony completed without interruption, but it wasn’t perfect. Do you see?”
“Were the nails, the knives, and the horseshoes all there?” asked Blackbird.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure? Could there have been substitutions? Some sort of switch?”
“How? How could such a thing happen?”
Blackbird could hear something in Claire’s tone. She wasn’t lying exactly but there was evasion there. “That’s a very good question,” she said.
“Who has access to the safe?”
“Only Jerry and I do.”
“A spare key?”
“Jerry has the spare. I don’t think he actually knows what it’s for.”
“Jerry’s in Australia,” said Blackbird.
“He is now,” said Claire.
“Could a copy have been made?”
“I don’t know.” Claire was running her fingers repeatedly through her hair.
“Tell me the rest,” said Blackbird.
“Would anyone like a cup of tea?” asked Katherine.