Cecil's eyes narrowed. *Go on.'

*Dr Dee is one of our number-'

*I knew it!' The spymaster clenched his fist.

*Some of his occult knowledge was pa.s.sed to other members a not all of it, by far, but enough perhaps to be of use in keeping the Unseelie Court at bay. This will buy Her Majesty . . . and England . . . time for Swyfte to succeed in his quest.'

*You know of that?' Cecil turned away, pretending to examine the huge pile of kindling in the wavering torchlight. *Of course you do! Yet how can I ever trust the School of Night when you have been secretly working against us for so long?'

Raleigh gave a tight smile. *How can you trust us? We believe in the power of knowledge, sirrah, in natural science and the occult arts coming together for the good of all men. And a new way in this never-ending war with the Unseelie Court, one that will not tarnish our integrity and may yet save the lives that are so regularly sacrificed. And we believe in honour above all. Can you say the same?'

Cecil refused to meet his gaze.

*I have heard tales,' Raleigh continued, lowering his voice. *If they are true, you would do well to hope Master Swyfte does not discover what happened to his lady love. He is a man of some fame with a powerful voice . . . and a powerful temper. His rage would be a fine thing, if he were to learn the truth. I would not put money on any man standing in his way . . . or upon the survival of those responsible.'

This time Cecil whirled, a cold anger lighting his eyes. *You have the luxury of honour, sirrah. You hold no power. You are not faced with harsh decisions on a daily basis, where choices must be made in sacrificing one life to save two, or ten to save a hundred. Do you think my life peaceful? Do you think my soul remains untainted by those choices? Forget Master Swyfte. He will never be allowed to foment rebellion here. He will die on foreign soil once his quest has been accomplished, or he will die when he sets foot back in England. Either way, there will be an end of it.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

THE LANTERN GLIMMERED deep in the gloom at the far end of the orlop deck. Carpenter felt little comfort from the tiny speck of light in the stifling heat and stale air of the dark s.p.a.ce. The cargo hold throbbed with the rhythm of the waves pounding against the creaking hull, and sometimes, when the din diminished a little, he could hear the scrabbling of rats in the bilge beneath him. He grimaced as he sucked in a breath heavy with the stink of rot and worked at the greasy ropes binding his aching wrists behind his back.

Here, on this ship of the dead, the spy fought back his fear. He had been in many tight spots in his life, but few as desperate as this. His plunge from the Tempest into the violent sea had smashed the breath from him. Brine had flooded his nose and mouth, the undercurrent sucking him into the black water below. Swept back up to the surface, he had seized a fleeting chance to gulp one last gasp of air, and as he did so he glimpsed the white face of the foul thing he had dragged into the seething cauldron. If Lansing of the High Family had been swept to an agonizing death at the bottom, his own pa.s.sing would have been worth it. The last thing he remembered was feeling arms close around him as Launceston attempted to keep him afloat. He marvelled: Launceston, who had no feelings for any living thing, who slaughtered innocent and guilty alike with the dispa.s.sion of a butcher preparing meat for the table.

Carpenter screwed his eyes shut. For some reason, the hated Enemy had saved him and stowed him away here in the filthy, stinking hold. Why did they not kill him and be done with it? He was no use to them; he knew nothing. Perhaps his suffering was simple sport, or revenge against a man who had been a thorn in their side for years, however ineffective.

*Do you miss your friends? Your family?'

He flinched at the voice and almost cried out. His senses had told him that the hold was empty, but he should have known better; the Unseelie Court were like ghosts. The voice was that of Lansing. He was disappointed that the hated Fay had survived too, but he should have expected it.

The Fay asked his question again, his voice measured.

*I have no family,' Carpenter spat, *and no friends either. I have nothing in my life except the work I do, so do not think you can torture me with false hopes.'

*We are not the monsters here.'

The spy laughed long and hard.

Footsteps echoed as Lansing drew closer. Carpenter tensed, expecting to feel a blow or the p.r.i.c.k of a dagger, but instead he heard the Fay's pa.s.sionless voice at a lower level as if he were crouching to look his prisoner in the eye. *There is great beauty in our world. Music that can move men to tears. Art. Philosophy. The joy that comes from being at the centre of life and all the wonders it offers. You think us demons, but we are not so different, our two people.'

*And yet you have treated men like cattle, ready for the slaughter, since the beginning of time,' Carpenter sneered. *Stolen our children for sport, or our youth or our lives. Turned women to stone, destroyed families and whole villages, blighted lives for amus.e.m.e.nt or because we did not bow and sc.r.a.pe before you.'

*And men are so different? We do not hurt our own kind. Can the same be said of your privateers in Africa, or in the New World? Of your own Queen, in her own homeland? So much misery inflicted on those who worship by another creed a and yet pray to the same G.o.d!' An incredulous laugh rolled out from the dark. *Since man walked tall, the world has been awash with blood. Not one race, not one country, has never raised a weapon in anger against another. Those who have suffered at your own hands far exceed the number we have tormented. And we are the monsters?'

*You twist things to seduce me with words,' Carpenter said. He let his shoulders sag.

*Nothing is as simple as it is made out to be by men of power. They always twist things to achieve the outcome they require. But I do not have power. I am just a warrior, like you, in this ceaseless shadow-conflict those greater than us have carved out.'

*Like me? I think not. For all my flaws, I have honour.'

*Then you have not had your fill of this battle, as I have? You do not wish to see it end and return to your home and your life? If this war were over, I would go in an instant and hold no hatred in my heart for any man. That is my most fervent wish.'

The spy did not reply at once. The Fay's words struck a note deep within him. He had been left for dead, scarred, betrayed, deceived; had seen the woman he loved murdered and been denied the opportunity to walk away from the business of spying. Cecil would never let him leave. All the secrets he knew were too valuable, he accepted with bitterness. *I have heard of your plans,' he said at last, giving no sign of his true thoughts. He pushed his head up in defiance. *You would wash us all away in a tide of blood. You want to win this war by leaving no trace of men upon the earth-'

*We want only one thing,' Lansing interrupted in a soothing voice, *the return of our Queen, my sister, taken from us in an act of grand betrayal when all we wished to do was make peace.'

*Do you think I can trust a word you say? Your very existence is based upon deceit and lies.'

Carpenter felt icy breath on his ear and recoiled in revulsion. He smelled strange spices. *One more time,' Lansing whispered. *We are the same.'

The spy wanted to feel anger, but the Fay's calm words seemed to have sapped his rage. He sagged back against the damp boards, dreaming of a home that had not existed for many years.

*Do you ever feel lost?' Lansing continued. His soles sc.r.a.ped on the boards as he began to circle his prisoner. *If that word chimes with you ever, then you know my people. We are lost, all of us. Wanderers who travelled from four distant cities, Gorias, Murias, Finias and Falias, four places of such wonder and enchantment they could bring any who laid eyes upon them to tears of joy. But our way was lost, and we could never find our way home, and for as long as we have known we have been yearning for those magical, fabled cities. No peace in our days, no contentment, only endless searching. Our sadness eats into our hearts and turns our thoughts grey. But one day, we believe, we will finally find our way back and then, and only then, will we find peace.'

Carpenter felt a dismal mood descend upon him. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts float back through the years and across the miles, to his father, in his cups and laughing by the hearth, and to his mother, wearing her best mustard skirts and white ap.r.o.n as she trudged through the snow to church on Christmas Eve. What uncomplicated lives they led. If only he had recognized that before he had left in search of coin in the Queen's employ. Other scenes marched through his thoughts: the fields around his home where he knew every bird's nest, how every shadow fell in the autumn twilight; the sound of the men singing as they drank their apple-beer after a hard day bringing in the harvest. He bowed his head. Lost, he thought, with such poignant regret it made him wince. *Did Launceston survive?' he croaked.

*Your friend is safe.' Lansing's footsteps retreated a few paces. Carpenter wondered if the Fay was drawing his blade for the first of many cuts and realized he cared little. *You may see him again soon,' the Fay continued. *If only there would come a time when this war no longer tore friends apart.'

The spy read what his opponent was saying. *I will never betray my Queen,' he muttered.

*Nor would I expect you to. You are an honourable man, as am I. But there are steps we foot soldiers can take which could free us all from daily suffering, steps perhaps unseen by our masters caught up in their grand visions.'

Carpenter allowed himself a moment to imagine what life would be like without that struggle. He did not hear Lansing approach again.

*We need no grand betrayal to end this war,' the Fay was saying. *Only one thing, one small thing. The sorcerer, Dee.'

The spy snorted. *Without Dee, England falls. You will be able to do whatever you want with us.'

*As I said before, all we want is our Queen returned. When she is seated once again upon the Golden Throne, there will no longer be need for struggle. We are no different, you and I. We want the same things.' Lansing repeated the sentiment in a honeyed voice, the words almost dreamlike as they wove among Carpenter's thoughts. The spy felt himself falling under their spell. We are the same. We want the same things. Lost. *Dee's hands are drenched in blood. You know as well as I that few would call him a good man. He has no honour. What a small sacrifice he would be to achieve such a great end.'

And on Lansing spoke, the steady beat of his quiet words an enchantment that swept Carpenter's wits away. Little of what followed did the spy recall, only the great swell of his yearning as he thought of fleeing his blood-drenched work for a simpler life.

And then he heard Lansing say, *Will you help end this war?'

And he replied, *I will.'

Though it was dark, he was sure the Fay was smiling. *We would join you with us, so we can whisper our secrets. Guide you. Comfort you.'

*Why do you need me?' he murmured. *You can raise the dead to do your bidding. You have your Scar-Crow Men. I am but one man, and a lowly one at that.'

*One man who gives himself freely can achieve greater things than an army of mere flesh devoid of thought.' Lansing's footsteps drew closer once again. *Do you give yourself freely?'

*If it will bring an end to this war and this suffering. If we can have peace once more, and lives without strife.'

The Fay lord knelt beside him and struck a flint. Carpenter screwed up his eyes as the white light blazed in the gloom. Once a candle had been lit, he saw that Lansing held a silver casket in the palm of one hand. *This path must be chosen,' the Fay said. *We can no more enforce it than we can turn back the wind.'

Carpenter shook his head, trying to dispel his hazy stupor. An insistent voice echoed deep inside him, but it was too faint to comprehend the words.

Lansing flicked open the casket lid to reveal a silver egg lying upon folds of purple velvet. *It is a Caraprix,' he said with an odd hint of fondness. *So simple in appearance, yet containing such great power.'

*It lives?' the spy asked.

Lansing's lips twitched. *Yes, it lives. It will be your most trusted companion, should you let it. Oh, the things it will whisper to you, the wonders it will unfold.'

*And it will help me achieve the ends we both want so fervently?'

*It will.'

*Then free my hands, and let me hide it in my pouch. I would be away from here and bring an end to this madness sooner rather than later.'

*You do not need your hands,' the Fay said in a calm voice which Carpenter found inexplicably troubling. Before he could probe further, Lansing delicately lifted the silver egg out of the casket and balanced it on his palm in front of the spy's eyes. The unblemished surface gleamed in the candlelight.

*We will become one,' Lansing said with a cold grin.

Legs sprang out of the Caraprix's side. Like a beetle, it scurried across the Fay's palm and leapt on to Carpenter's face. He cried out in shock as the sharp tips of those legs bit into his flesh and held fast. It crawled down, and though he clamped his mouth shut the spindly shanks wormed their way in between his teeth and forced his jaw apart. As it wriggled past his lips, he felt its smooth surface as warm and yielding as flesh. Sickened, he tried to yell, but only a strangled cry came out.

The Caraprix forced itself further into his mouth, towards his throat, filling up every s.p.a.ce until he choked. Darkness closed around his gaze. As Lansing's emotionless face filled his vision, he could only think how weak he had been, and what terrible things were now to come.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

NIGHT HAD FALLEN, and the sea bellowed its fury. Iron waves hammered the Tempest as it crashed towards the rocky fangs protruding from the swell. Wrenched back and forth in the grip of turbulent currents, the galleon seemed caught in a battle it was impossible to win. *Hold fast to the course,' Courtenay bellowed, his gaze fixed on the flashes of white water ahead. Sparks of orange light glittered across the dark sea from the vessel's blazing lanterns, yet the channel ahead remained pitch black.

*G.o.d save our souls,' Strangewayes called to the heavens. He clung on to the rigging for dear life, his shirt and breeches sodden from the surf gushing over the rail with every dip and crash.

*Only b.l.o.o.d.y Jack can do that now,' Will shouted back. His fingers ached from gripping the greased rope.

The ship careered into the dark like a leaf caught in a flood. For one queasy moment, the prow pointed towards the glittering stars, then plummeted down into a sable valley. A deluge thundered over the prow. Before the brine had sluiced across the deck, the ship crested another wave. Seasoned crewmen flew from their feet. Had the island lured them in, only to dash them on the rocks, Will wondered?

His ears rang from the thunderous roar as they neared the long line of white-topped breakers crashing against the lethal rocks. It seemed there was no path through, but Courtenay stood like a sentinel on the forecastle, unmoved by the furious heaving.

*This is madness. We will all die,' Strangewayes cried. *I should be at Grace's side-'

*There is nothing you can do for her now. Hold fast or you will be thrown over the side,' Will called back.

The galleon heaved as a loud grinding echoed through the hull from the rocks sc.r.a.ping along the side. Any moment Will expected the jagged reef to tear through the pitch-covered oak. In those violent currents, the ship would break up in no time.

He gritted his teeth as the grinding grew louder, until he feared the end had come. The Tempest lurched. Men crashed to the deck. Then, suddenly, the grating sound stopped and the galleon swept free of the clutching fingers of the black rocks. Relieved grins leapt to the harrowed faces of the seamen caught in the wildly swinging lanterns. The violent shaking faded, the seas grew calmer, and a cheer rang out from all on deck.

When the Tempest reached placid water, Courtenay gave the order to drop anchor. As he strode the deck, the men showed him their respect with broad grins or bowed heads. b.l.o.o.d.y Jack only laughed louder, clapping his hands together in triumphant glee. *We have stared death in the face, and once again the bony b.a.s.t.a.r.d has backed down,' he bellowed as he pa.s.sed.

The night was cool and smelled sweetly of fresh vegetation. Now the danger had pa.s.sed, Will wondered where his plans would take him next. He found his thoughts swinging wildly between hope that one day he might see Jenny again and dread that Grace had been lost because of his own failings.

Strangewayes cast one eye towards the island. *Is this the place mentioned in the captain's journal 'pon the abandoned Spanish galleon?'

*We will find out in good time, Tobias, but there have been tales of many a devil-haunted island in these parts. Perhaps the influence of the Unseelie Court grows stronger with each step closer to their home.'

*Then let us pray we draw no nearer.' He glanced up, past the men hooting and chattering as they scrambled up the rigging, and then strode towards the captain's cabin to see how Grace fared.

Once the sails had been furled and calm had descended on the galleon, Will sought out Courtenay on the p.o.o.p deck, where the captain was swigging from a cup of wine by the light of the moon. Aware of the dangers that might lie ahead, they agreed no landfall would be made until sunrise. Eager as he was to discover Dee and Meg's fate, Will took the opportunity to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' rest in a corner of the main deck while the men played cards and drank in the berth.

Sleep came quickly. Through the dark he sailed, deep into dreams.

Once again, he walked with Jenny through the garden of the cottage she shared with her father and mother and Grace in Warwickshire. In the sun, honey bees buzzed lazily past the marigolds on their way to the hives at the end of the garden. Purple-topped lavender swayed past their legs. His gaze flickered towards the dark band of woods ahead, like a storm cloud on the horizon, and he felt uneasy as he sensed that something watched him from their depths. Though he could not see it, for some reason he couldn't fathom he believed it to be a raven. Those black gla.s.s eyes lay upon him, heavy with judgement, he was sure. And then he realized that Jenny was speaking to him, her voice insistent, and when he turned he saw worry in her features. She was telling him not to go on, to turn back, forget everything, live life, for the west was where the dead went. Turn back. Turn back.

The world skewed and shadows rushed out from those dark woods to swallow him. When his head had finished spinning, he somehow knew it was the night of Jenny's disappearance. He had spent hours searching the lanes and fields around her home, desperation, then fear, then grief, burning a hole in his chest. No sign of her anywhere; no sign of her ever again in Arden. And he was washing his hands by the well, washing furiously to rid himself of the stain, but he knew that it would never go, that it lay deeper than flesh. He was changed for ever. No longer William Swyfte the poet, with a fine career ahead of him after he departed the debating halls of Cambridge University. No longer innocent. And then he turned, as he had, and Grace was there, little Grace, pleading for news of her missing sister. He tried to hide his hands so she would not see. He tried- Rough hands were shaking him awake.

His eyes snapped open and he peered into Strangewayes' face as the spy loomed over him in an excited state, his fists gripping Will's shirt. *Come,' he urged with pa.s.sion. *Come.' Shaking the last of the dark dream from his head, Will staggered after the other man. His heart beat faster when he saw Tobias dash into the captain's cabin. Inside, Grace was sitting up in her berth, her head in her hands, her lank hair falling across her face. When she looked round as the two men entered she appeared baffled and Will feared the worst, her wits burned away by the searing touch of the Unseelie Court. His breath caught in his throat. Yet after a moment she forced a weak smile and said, *You both look so troubled! What is wrong?'

Relief flooded Will. *You gave us a scare, Grace,' he said, beaming. *You have been a bundle of trouble as long as I have known you.'

She rolled her eyes and sniffed. *Men call a woman trouble when she does not dance to their tune. I am proud to be so described.'

The two men laughed, their moods lightening for the first time in days. Will knelt beside Grace and tested her memory and her wits with several questions. She answered every one clearly, her puzzlement moving to annoyance until finally she told him she had had enough of being mothered. Promising he would explain everything to her soon, he insisted she rest and build up her strength, for there were more tribulations ahead.

Outside the cabin door, he closed his eyes and put his head back, letting his relief show. *Never would I have hoped for such an outcome,' he breathed.

*It seems Grace is stronger than you think,' Strangewayes said, his voice hard. *You see the little girl you first knew. But she has grown into a woman as courageous as any man.'

*In that, you are correct. I have misjudged her. When she has regained her strength, I will reveal all she needs to know about the Unseelie Court and their foul ways.'

*Do not expect forgiveness,' Strangewayes said. *This time we were fortunate, but Grace should never have been placed in that danger.' He stalked away before Will could respond.

The night drew on, and on. Will climbed up to the forecastle and watched the sh.o.r.e, feeling unease begin to replace his jubilation. When footsteps drew near, he turned. Men slept on the decks under the lit lamps. Courtenay strode past them, his brow furrowed, and the spy knew he was not alone in his worries. *The sun should have been up long ago,' b.l.o.o.d.y Jack said, eyeing the full moon and the milky sweep of stars as he neared, *yet this night stays and stays. How much longer are we to be tormented by strangeness?'

*It is a strange world, captain, and an island where night outstays its welcome is not the worst thing in it.'

Courtenay shrugged. Vertiginous seas and blood-crazed pirates were as nothing to him, but Will could see that the unnatural dark troubled him deeply. *Well, we can't sit here waiting till Doomsday,' the captain muttered. *I'll a.s.semble the sh.o.r.e party. But you must watch yourself out there, Master Swyfte.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.