CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

THE NAKED WOMAN bucked and writhed above the old man. The rhythmic creak of the narrow bed echoed around the captain's dusty cabin, accompaniment to a symphony of moans. The waves lapped. The hull groaned. Flushed from their ardour, Red Meg O'Shee wiped the sweat from her pale forehead with the back of her slender hand. Beneath her, Dr Dee grunted, his grey eyes gla.s.sy. Though she ground her hips and swung her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and used every love-making skill she had mastered in her hard life, the Irish spy felt that the magician was almost oblivious of her presence. She knew he was aroused; his hardness inside her was testament to that. Yet his gaze searched only an inner horizon and his lips moved in whispered conversation with things she could not see. Sometimes she thought she heard responses from the corners of the cramped cabin, and then her arms p.r.i.c.kled into gooseflesh.

She hid her distaste for what she endured. This was business, no more, and she had long since grown inured to the demands of staying alive in a trade not known for the longevity of its pract.i.tioners. But she wondered how much longer she could continue this way. Since she had stolen Dee from under the noses of the English, she had kept him bewitched with her thighs and the stupor-inducing concoctions she had been taught to mix by the wise women in the green hills of her homeland. But after Liverpool, other devils rode him.

She had watched him weave his magics with mirrors, hunched over their glittering surfaces uttering a guttural language that sounded like pebbles dropped on wood. In response, she had seen the shadows seem to lengthen around the cabin, and move of their own accord. And as of that moment he had been like a man drifting through a dream, ignoring her honeyed whispers as he took command of the vessel. The crew had fallen further under his insidious influence, going about their work in silence with the same gla.s.sy-eyed distraction. Captain Duncombe had stood by her at every turn.

As the west coast of Ireland faded from view, she sensed other, unseen pa.s.sengers aboard, voices whispering down in the bilge or on the gun deck or the orlop deck, although each proved empty whenever she investigated. Flickers of movement in shadowy corners, gone when she looked directly. The nights were worse, until she had become afraid to sleep. A haunted ship carried her away from all she knew, she could deny it no longer.

She felt Dee's muscles grow taut and raised herself off him before he spilled his seed, finishing with her mouth in a manner that would have drawn admiration from the doxies along Bankside. Once done, she whispered in his ear, *You have made my head spin, as always, my sweet. I am caught in your spell.'

*I have business on deck,' he muttered, pushing her aside. Meg flashed a murderous glance, but hid it before the doctor saw, though she doubted he would have cared; he already appeared to have forgotten her.

*Where do we sail, my love?' she asked, as she had many times, in her gentlest voice.

*West,' he grumbled, distracted. *Where the dead live.'

She sighed at his usual reply, climbing off the bed to tie back her red hair with a green ribbon that matched her eyes. While she pulled on her white linen smock, Dee prowled around the cabin with the vitality of a man half his age. At ease with his nakedness, he tugged at his beard as he examined charts, then stood at the window and watched the white wake trailing from the carrack's stern. *I know,' he snapped to no one she could see. *We will be there when we are there.'

Mad, she thought, eyeing him as she slipped on her black and gold skirt and bodice. Mad and drunk with power. A lethal combination.

When he had pulled on his purple robe, he stepped out on to the deck, his silvery hair flying in the salty ocean breeze. Meg followed. No eyes flickered her way. She was unused to that, for she had worked hard to learn how to draw men's attention, then steal their gold or their papers or their life while they were distracted. In dreamy silence the crew went about their tasks, mending sails, climbing the rigging to the yards, or drawing the lines to bring fresh fish aboard. No singing, no ribald laughter. Duncombe was caught up in his duties, not trusting these jolt-heads to keep them on a safe course.

Never had she felt more alone, though she had been a solitary soul since her chieftain had decided to utilize her natural talents for the good of Ireland. It felt as though she was condemned to purgatory aboard a ship of ghosts.

On the forecastle, Dee peered down at the magic circle he had inscribed in scarlet paint. She watched him take position in the centre of the strange symbols, untroubled by the rolling sea as if his legs were affixed to the deck. For long moments, he bowed his head, beginning one of his monotonous incantations, his words lost beneath the wind.

Red Meg's chest tightened and she shivered, not with cold but with unease as the shadows thrown across the deck by the masts and the rigging shifted without explanation. Behind her, she thought she heard a sound like a giant snake coiling on the p.o.o.p deck. As Dee threw his head back and raised his arms, the wind grew stronger. It lashed his hair and whipped the deep sleeves of his robes. Overhead, the sails boomed as they filled to their limit.

She watched the doctor as the carrack surged across the waves, and then, satisfied that he would be distracted for a while, returned to the cabin. Sliding the bolt across the door, she hurried to the chest under the window and searched through the jumble of contents until she found one of the gilt mirrors Dee carried with him for his divinings. In her time with him, she had learned some of his tricks.

When she had studied the charts scattered across the trestle, she set the looking gla.s.s in the centre and peered into its depths. The words seared through her mind with such force that she almost recoiled and was momentarily disorientated. Then the mirror clouded over, clearing to reveal a familiar face peering up at her.

*Will Swyfte,' she said with a seductive smile. *How I have missed those dark eyes.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

GOLDEN SPIKES OF morning sunlight glinted off gla.s.s. Across the low ceiling of the captain's cabin, shimmering pools flickered as Will peered into the depths of the obsidian mirror set unsteadily on the trestle table. The pounding of the waves on the hull throbbed through the stifling stale air, loud enough to hide any conversation from prying ears.

In the looking gla.s.s, Meg's lips and eyes teased him as always. Will felt relieved to see she was well. Yet if anyone could survive in that perilous atmosphere, it would be Red Meg O'Shee.

*This merry ocean jaunt is to your taste?' he enquired.

*I see no reason to wallow in gloom, my sweet. There is always pleasure to be found in every situation.' The smile was just one of many masks that prevented any man from knowing her true thoughts, he knew. She was a strange woman, the Irish spy. Duplicitous on so many levels, as lethal as any opponent he had ever encountered, yet at her core he had found some well-protected part of her in which he felt he could place some trust.

Will's thoughts rushed back across the waves to Liverpool and to that tumultuous night when he had seized the opportunity presented to him and embarked on this desperate gamble. Driven mad by the rush of his new power, Dee had raged through the upper floors of the rooming house while Will and Meg fled down the wooden stairs to the front door. Meg was terrified by the inexplicable transformation she had witnessed and had been gabbling about the alchemist's ordering her to accompany him on some mysterious journey to the New World. It seemed even her charms no longer had any effect on Dee, and she feared for her life and her sanity.

How Will's mind had whirled with the opportunities that chance had suddenly presented to him. s.n.a.t.c.hing at a single straw, he had decided at that moment to risk everything. From that point on, he knew there could be no going back, though his very life, the Queen and all England, were forfeit.

When Meg had recovered her wits sufficiently, he had offered her a harsh choice: stay by Dee's side and glean whatever information she could from him, or be taken back to London to face punishment for her crimes. If the dilemma troubled her, she didn't show it; indeed, he thought she seemed almost relieved that she would not have to return to her homeland, and she had even suggested how they could make his plan work.

They hid while Dee thundered out into the night, raging about his missing looking gla.s.s, which Will had hidden in his pouch. In whispers, Meg quickly related the secrets of mirror-communication that the sorcerer had taught her; though half a world lay between them, they would be able to speak through Dee's gla.s.s, she insisted. And then, her eyes bright, she had kissed him with surprising tenderness before darting out into the street to accompany the alchemist to the quayside.

Will smiled at the memory of that kiss. He could only presume she saw some advantage for herself in his plan, for Meg was not a woman spurred on by the kindness in her heart. She could not have returned to Ireland if she had failed in her task to kidnap Dee. And Cecil would have ensured there was no safe haven for her anywhere in England. Perhaps she felt the dangers of a sea journey with the doctor were preferable to a flight across Europe, where the malign influence of the Unseelie Court would still be felt.

Will had not told her that what lay ahead was far worse than she could ever imagine. It was but the first of many quiet betrayals that would no doubt see his soul d.a.m.ned. But it was a price he was willing to pay.

*What news?' he asked.

The Irish woman's beautiful features darkened. She glanced over her shoulder towards the door, and then whispered, *I must speak quickly, for Dee will only be briefly distracted, and if he finds me here my punishment will be terrible indeed.' She paused, biting her lip. *He is much changed.'

*Have you learned what has possessed him?'

She shook her head. *All I know is that he uses his mirrors to speak with angels, as he did on the road to Liverpool, even when he was under my spell.' Her brow furrowed. *Though now he rages against them like a madman. They must be the ones who ride him.'

Angels! Will was struck by the irony and grimaced. Devils, more like. He thought back along the years, to all the times when Dee had believed his magics had allowed him to commune with those higher beings. He claimed to have learned the Enochian language from them and had filled vast journals with their messages. All of it had been the manipulation of the Unseelie Court, there was no doubt now. Long had they played him, posing as angelic guardians whenever they appeared in his mirror, luring him into false security, subtly subverting his suspicions, until they could exert their control. Dee's increasingly erratic behaviour, the voices that only he heard, his inability to find warmth even in a hot room: each a sign of the Unseelie Court's influence which Will had witnessed before.

Yet why did they now pursue him, if they were close to having him in their thrall?

*Whatever afflicts the old man has spread to the crew,' she continued. *They drift through their ch.o.r.es as if they are in a dream. Only Captain Duncombe retains his wits, and though he is a good-hearted man, there is little he can do.'

*Have they harmed you?'

*It is as if they do not even know I am aboard,' she replied, with a note of indignation. *Dee tolerates me, I think, as long as I offer him comfort, but I know my influence is waning.'

*And your destination?'

She held out her hands. *As agreed, I have the course here, for you to follow. Perhaps your own captain can plot our eventual port of call.' Glancing at the charts and captain's journal on the sea chest beside her, she pa.s.sed on the bearing. *Dee works his magics to try to speed us on,' she added. Will saw unease flicker across her features. *Keep a steady course, my love. I would not have you lost to me.'

He smiled as rea.s.suringly as he could. *There will be good sack and a merry jig waiting for you when we finish this business, Mistress Meg.'

*Oh, I expect much more than that, Master Swyfte,' she replied with a twinkle. Some noise off caught her attention and she leaned in and whispered, *I must go. Soon, my love.'

The mirror clouded over and Will's own dark features loomed up in the gla.s.s. He bowed his head, hoping he had not doomed Meg as he had doomed so many others. With the pa.s.sing of each day, he moved further away from the light, he realized. In the end, was he so different from the Unseelie Court?

For a moment he struggled with his conscience, listening to the roar of the sea and the bright singing of the Tempest's crew. Putting aside his doubts, he strode out of the cabin in search of Captain Courtenay.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

THE TRADE WINDS had stilled. Becalmed, the Tempest simmered under a merciless sun. On deck, sailors squatted, sullen-faced, in what little shade they could find, their sodden shirts clinging to their skin. Captain Courtenay brooded in his cabin, loathing the inactivity that left his crew with too much time on their hands in a heat that always sp.a.w.ned arguments and blood. Strangewayes and Grace sat under a makeshift sailcloth shade on the forecastle, engaged in intense conversation. Launceston roamed around the hold, a ghost who could not face the sun. From the p.o.o.p deck, Will watched the grey cloud on the horizon through Courtenay's tele-scope in what had become an hourly ritual. He wore his white linen undershirt open to his breeches, but still felt no respite from the heat. Peering through the gla.s.s, he had started to believe he now saw something hiding within that swirling grey miasma.

*If there is some ship within that fog, it is becalmed as we are. A small mercy,' Carpenter muttered at his side. He was stripped to the waist, his lean form tanned by the tropical sun.

Will shrugged, unconvinced. *Then let us concentrate upon catching Dr Dee,' he said.

He thought back to how the cold November of the English Channel had gradually given way to the December heat of the Canaries and how they had been forced to put into port to pick up fresh water and victuals. His cap pulled low against the hot, dry wind, Will had prowled the docks, questioning the dark-skinned men in their white tunics selling wooden cups of sweet wine and skewers of spiced lamb meat seared over charcoal. They had told of a carrack that had moored there two weeks gone, with a strange, devil-haunted crew who moved as if through a dream and spoke in slow, measured tones as they resupplied their vessel. The carrack had remained in port for near twelve days, and the dark-skinned men spoke of seeing strange lights around its mast at night and hearing disembodied voices echoing across the water. No one had been sorry to see it sail back to sea. Their tales had raised Will's spirits. He was certain that they yet had a good chance of tracking down their prey, and much to the English crew's annoyance he had encouraged Captain Courtenay to put back out to sea after barely two days.

They battled squalls along the tropics and sweltered in the relentless heat. Christmas came and went with Courtenay ladling cups of festive wine to a long queue of his men, and prayers at dawn and song at nightfall. And when the topmen spotted a Spanish treasure galleon they fought their natural instincts and veered off course for a day to avoid a confrontation. And then, just as the end of their journey was in sight, the winds had dropped one week out of the West Indies.

For two days now they had drifted, watching for what might lie at their backs while tempers simmered. Courtenay had taken to wandering the deck with lash in hand, his gimlet eyes offering a warning of what lay ahead if any man dared cause trouble. No clouds marred the blue sky. Not even the faintest breeze wafted across the water. How much longer could they endure this cauldron of heat before something broke, Will wondered?

He sensed Carpenter shifting uncomfortably beside him and put down the tele-scope. *What is on your mind?' he asked.

The other man ran a hand under his hair to rub the pink scar marring his face. *The woman is no business of mine,' he began, *but we have had words, Launceston, Strangewayes and myself, about your delay in instructing her in the true nature of the threat we face.'

*And they sent you to speak to me?'

*I came of my own accord,' Carpenter snapped. *We all know what happens to those unprepared for their first meeting with those pale-skinned b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Even foreknowledge is not always enough to offer protection for some, as you well know, but she deserves a chance to steel herself, does she not?'

Will flinched inwardly. He knew he had been remiss in not revealing to Grace the secrets of the Unseelie Court the moment she had been found aboard. But she had shown such spirit in coping with the privations of the past weeks, never complaining, always bright, ever offering a kind word when she saw the other spies in a gloomy mood, that he hadn't the heart to bring darkness into her world. He looked towards the main deck where she walked among the sweltering crew with a leather pail of seawater with which the sailors could mop their burning heads and necks. She reminded him still of Jenny, and the life she might have had if she had not been taken from him. He had no desire to see Grace's innocence tainted, her hope and her future stolen as her sister's had been, and he would protect her until the last possible moment.

*The more you delay, the more danger you put her in,' Carpenter pressed, as if he could read Will's thoughts.

*I will deal with her when I am good and ready,' he said, ending the conversation.

Already irritable, the other man flushed with frustration. He gripped the rail and hissed, *Will you take no advice from anyone? The great Will Swyfte, England's greatest spy! Who knows better than all others . . . until disaster strikes, and then he throws his friends to the wolves.'

*What happened between us is long gone, John. Will you not let go of it?'

*Easy words for you. You do not see the results of that betrayal every time you look in a mirror.'

Will grunted. What could he say to ease the other man's pain that he had not said a thousand times? He thought back to frozen Muscovy and the flight through the stark woods where they were attacked by the nameless creature that had been summoned by their enemies. He had thought Carpenter slaughtered in the a.s.sault. If he had returned to search for his friend, he could well have lost not just his own life but all they had gained for the Queen during their expedition. For a while Carpenter seemed to have come to terms with what he saw as a grand betrayal. Clearly, resentment still simmered inside him, but Will had a greater fear.

*John, when this business is done . . . should we survive . . . you must ask for time away from your duties,' he said. *I sense the taint of the Unseelie Court in you, that creeping despair that afflicts all of us eventually when we have spent too long battling those things.'

Carpenter looked over the water, not meeting Will's eyes. *Time away? I am sick of all this. Sick to the heart. I would leave the service of Sir Robert Cecil for ever and seek a new life for myself where there are no nightmares walking under the sun.'

*You know Cecil will never sanction that,' Will said gently. *You are too valuable in this long fight-'

*This never-ending fight!'

*Few others have your expert touch, John, your knowledge of the Enemy, your ability to look them in the eye and survive. The Queen needs you.'

*Enough,' the other man snarled. *I tell you now that I will be gone from here, sooner or later. I deserve a life of my own, and by G.o.d I will take it, if I have to cut my way through a hundred colleagues to get it.' He rounded on Will, his eyes narrowing. *See to the girl. Do not let her days be blighted as mine have been.' He stalked away from the rail, clattering down the steps to the main deck where he shoved aside any who crossed his path as he made his way to his berth.

Before Will could consider whether he truly was betraying Grace, a cry rang out from the topman. Looking up to the top of the mainmast, he saw the lookout pointing towards the north-east where lightning crackled from a looming black cloud. Captain Courtenay bounded up the steps to the p.o.o.p deck.

*Storm's coming,' he barked, clapping his large hands together. *In these waters, that could be good or ill. It'll blow some much-needed wind in our sails and speed us on our way. But in the tropics, storms can come down like a hammer on an anvil, with us caught between the two.'

*I will gladly take our chances, captain. I have had my fill of stewing here waiting for something to happen.'

*Be careful what you wish for, Master Swyfte.' Courtenay laughed, his eyes reflecting the crackles of lightning. Before he had even roared his orders, his men jumped to their posts, as eager to return to activity as Will. The spy watched them scramble up the lines, ready to react to any sudden change in the elements. He knew that if the storm struck hard, a full sail could tear off the mainmast and drag them all down to the bottom of the drink. Yet if they were not ready to take advantage of glancing winds, the weather could turn just as quickly and leave them becalmed once more.

He raised his head to the roiling clouds and felt the first hint of a breeze on his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the relief.

*Will?'

Grace waited at the top of the steps, her hands clasped in front of her. Her skirts flapped in the strengthening wind and her brown hair whipped around her face. He thought how much she had grown in confidence in recent months, no longer the young girl he had played with in Warwickshire. Yet he still saw only Jenny, in her eyes, her smile, her bearing. That had always been the problem.

*Return to the cabin, Grace,' he said, not without warmth. *It will be safer there.'

*I shall, soon. But Tobias and John both insist that I speak to you, though neither will say why. Even Robert urged me to come, and normally he acts as if I am a dog yapping at his heels. They seem angry with you.'

Will set his jaw, wishing the others would leave well alone. *This is not the time, Grace, but, yes, we must have words about a matter of great importance.'

*Is it about Jenny?'

He hesitated, watching the hope light in her dark eyes. *In part.'

She forced a wan smile. *Our friendship has been tempestuous since Jenny disappeared,' she said. *We have fought and bickered, though I . . . I always looked on you fondly, Will, you know that.'

They both knew her feelings had been deeper than she implied. She was confused, he had always recognized that. In truth, she had seen him as the only pillar of stability in a world gone mad. He had felt proud to offer her the protection she needed, and he would never have abused that position. And he had always believed he could save Grace as he had been unable to save Jenny.

She seemed to sense some of the thoughts that pa.s.sed through his head, for her brow furrowed. *I have never thanked you for all that you have done for me,' she said, grabbing hold of the rail as the ship began to heave beneath them. *But more than anything, I would thank you for keeping the promise of Jenny alive when it would have been so much easier to let her go and return to your life.'

*Jenny has always been my life,' he replied, feeling all the pain wrapped in those few words.

*We will talk soon,' she said, *but tell me one thing before I go: do you truly believe we will ever find answers to any of the questions that have haunted us these past years?'

*I believe we will find an ending, Grace, for good or ill. Whichever it may be, I hope there will be peace.'

That seemed to satisfy her. She gave a faint smile, then skipped down the steps and fought her way across the rolling deck. He watched her until she disappeared from sight into the captain's cabin beneath him.

As the clouds marched overhead, the sky darkened until it felt like dusk aboard the rolling galleon. The sullen sea began to protest, low waves turning to a heaving swell the colour of old ivy. Sails boomed and the rigging cracked. The wind howled, tearing at hair grown too long and wrenching men from side to side with every step. When lightning flashed, the world turned white.

Will began to fight his way through the grim-faced sailors swirling across the deck, each one concentrating on his own well-rehea.r.s.ed task. They danced to Courtenay's tune, his orders booming like the thunder tearing through the half-light. Hands on hips, he threw his head back in insane laughter as he felt the first spatters of rain on his face.