He uncoiled his arm from the back of his seat and leaned forward with an intense air. "It doesn't require blood. All it requires is to make the realm recognize you as its sovereign."

She threw her head back in a laugh. The ceiling of her chamber was an intricate lacework of black stone; she addressed it whimsically. "Oh great Onyx Hall-will you make me your Queen?"

"You're speaking to the wrong part," Aspell said. "Surely you've heard the rumors. To control the Onyx Hall, you need the London Stone."

Her laughter faded away. Carline lowered her head, and found the Lord Keeper smiling. Nervousness made her play with one of the bows that crossed her stomacher; then she made herself stop. "More easily said than done. Its location is the most closely guarded secret in this place." She bit her lip. "Do you...?"

"Know where it is? No. As you said, it's closely guarded. The Queen and Lord Joseph know, of course. I believe the Goodemeades do as well, for all the use that that is. Sir Cun.o.bel and Sir Cerenel were there when Lune claimed the Hall for herself; they might know." is. Sir Cun.o.bel and Sir Cerenel were there when Lune claimed the Hall for herself; they might know."

The lady scowled. "Cun.o.bel's long since vanished into Scotland, and Cerenel-hah. You'd have better luck forcing blood from a stone."

"And one other," Aspell said. "More easily squeezed than a stone. Dame Irrith."

The rustic little sprite from Berkshire. That showed real promise, Carline thought, running one fingernail over her painted lip. Unlikely that she could be persuaded or bought-but the poor, simple creature was not beyond manipulation, however much she liked to think so. Friendship would be the easiest way. Irrith distrusted courtiers, but responded well to friends.

But not if their generosity seemed too out of place. Carline fixed a suspicious eye on Valentin Aspell. "Why offer me this help?"

He shrugged and leaned back once more, this time settling into a watchful posture. "I have my reasons."

"Come, Valentin-you needn't be coy. We've sworn each other to secrecy, and I of all people am not likely to throw stones at a little naked ambition." She rose and drew near him, trailing one hand over the shoulder of his coat. "You're already Lord Keeper, so it must be something greater you want, that Lune will never give you... King, perhaps? Do you wish to rule at my side?"

He laid his fingers over her own, cool and dry. "I believe you'll need a mortal in that position. Lune is overfond of them, but her insistence on replacing Princes as soon as possible makes me suspect there's more to it than mere attachment."

"That isn't a denial."

The light from the fireplace cast his eyes into shadow. "I have my reasons, Carline. Leave it at that."

Doubt curled in Carline's heart. Even with so easy a target as Irrith, there was risk. And were she to be caught, the oaths she and the Lord Keeper had sworn to each other would make it hard for her to accuse him. Once she found the London Stone for him, she might discover her use had run out.

Or something else. Aspell's motivations had never been clear to her. He enjoyed power, but was content to bide his time until those above him precipitated their own fall. If he did anything to hasten that, she'd never caught him at it.

Until now. The change bothered her, because she didn't know its cause.

She would have to be wary of him. Whatever game Aspell was playing, she did not intend to let it take her by surprise.

The Onyx Hall, London: March 15, 1759 "He said he intended nothing against your will." The memory stung bitterly in her mind. "And I believed believed him." him."

The elfin woman Irrith had spoken to in Dr. Andrews's deserted laboratory was gone; the creature she faced now was every inch the Queen of the Onyx Hall. Lune sat with rigid posture, hands unnaturally still on the arms of her chair, flanked by Sir Peregrin Thorne and Dame Segraine. The Queen had listened without comment to the tale of Irrith's involvement with the Sanists; now she sat silent a moment longer, eyes as flat and inexpressive as two silver coins.

Sir Peregrin asked coldly, "And what was your part to be in all of this?"

Irrith was already kneeling; now she ducked her chin and dug her fingers into the midnight carpet. "He-he said the idea would need to be in her Grace's mind already, so that she'd make the decision quickly when the time came."

A soft, sharp exhalation: the first sound Lune had made since Irrith began. "Perhaps he spoke the truth, then," she said, with a razor edge of irony. "My will; my decision to die. Once he'd arranged for it to be so."

"You give him too much credit, madam," Segraine muttered. Irrith had asked her to be here for this audience. Lune might be merciful as Queens went, but Irrith wanted a friend present regardless. "He'll have weighed Irrith to an ounce before he said anything to her. He knows she would never agree to outright regicide. But just because he said all those fine words doesn't mean he wouldn't hurl you into the Dragon's maw if you decided the wrong way."

Irrith's gut twisted. Still like a babe in the wood. Still like a babe in the wood. Still a puppet to be danced about by courtiers. Carline used friendship to snare her; Aspell had used her ideals. Pretending all the time that he wanted what she did, when in truth his treason began long before the Onyx Hall began to crumble. Still a puppet to be danced about by courtiers. Carline used friendship to snare her; Aspell had used her ideals. Pretending all the time that he wanted what she did, when in truth his treason began long before the Onyx Hall began to crumble.

She bowed her head even farther. "Your Majesty... what are you going to do?"

Leather creaked as Lune flexed her good hand. "Sanist sentiment is widespread in some parts of the Onyx Court. Eliminating their leading cabal won't change that-though it would at least prevent what you've described. Unfortunately, Lord Valentin led my efforts to uncover that cabal. Thanks to him, we have nothing better than suspicion, and your word that he is their leader. We have no firm accusation to level against him, that would carry weight in a trial."

What do you need a trial for? Just kill him! But Irrith had reason to be grateful for the Queen's sense of justice, and her mimicry of mortal customs in reaching it. "Your Grace, I meant-what are you going to do with me?" But Irrith had reason to be grateful for the Queen's sense of justice, and her mimicry of mortal customs in reaching it. "Your Grace, I meant-what are you going to do with me?"

Sir Peregrin made a brusque sound that might have been either a growl or an angry laugh. Irrith did not dare look up at Segraine. She could feel the pressure of Lune's gaze upon her. This is what he wanted me to be afraid of. And I am. Bad enough I went with him, but much worse that I stayed silent. That I let months go by without telling her. This is what he wanted me to be afraid of. And I am. Bad enough I went with him, but much worse that I stayed silent. That I let months go by without telling her.

"Why did you meet with the Sanists?"

Irrith could read nothing out of that question; Lune was too good at keeping her thoughts from her voice. Not that she would have had any other answer to give, regardless of the Queen's state of mind. All she had was the truth. "Because the monarch is is the realm. I don't think it's fading because you're wounded, madam, but-I don't know if it can be repaired so long as it has a mistress who isn't whole." the realm. I don't think it's fading because you're wounded, madam, but-I don't know if it can be repaired so long as it has a mistress who isn't whole."

That was definitely a growl from Sir Peregrin. Lune, however, gave a quiet and weary reply. "Neither do I. I'm not ready to give up yet, though."

"You shouldn't!" It burst out without any polite address at all, and jerked Irrith upright as if someone had pulled on a string. Sitting back on her heels, hands clenching, she said, "He wants you to think you should. All of them do, all the Sanists, and they're too eager to accept the easy answer, rather than looking for something else. But Aspell's the heart of it. Don't wait for a trial; give me permission, and I'll go stab him this very moment."

The Queen laughed, as much from startlement as anything else. "A very kind offer. Unfortunately, it's one I can't accept. That would make him a martyr, and encourage the others. Not only do you not have my permission, Irrith, you have our royal command that you are not not to murder Valentin Aspell." to murder Valentin Aspell."

Irrith hung her head. "Yes, madam."

"As for your punishment," Lune said, and paused.

Even though the sprite knew she should keep silent, she said it anyway. "I don't have any right to ask for this, but-if you're going to exile me, then please, let me stay long enough to face the Dragon."

Sir Peregrin made a disbelieving sound. Lune said, "My subjects slip away in the night, and you ask to stay." Despite everything, a bright edge lightened her voice. "Very well, Dame Irrith. For now, your punishment is that you are forbidden to depart until we have disposed of the Dragon. After that, we shall decide further."

The Onyx Hall, London: March 16, 1759 The Queen forbade her to kill Aspell, but not to plot other things.

Irrith perched atop a flying b.u.t.tress, watching the door to Valentin Aspell's chambers. She'd been up there for a while, considering her options. Part of her was tempted to stab him anyway; it might be worth guaranteeing her exile, just to get rid of him.

That shouldn't be her first move, though. At present she was contemplating breaking in and seeing what she could find, but she suspected someone had already done that on Lune's behalf. Besides, Irrith wouldn't know what to look for. The Lord Keeper would hardly leave a notebook lying around with PLANS FOR TREASON PLANS FOR TREASON written in large letters across the top. written in large letters across the top.

Sitting here made her feel better, though. More fixed upon her purpose, which was to find proof that could be used to put an end to Valentin Aspell.

Could she lie to him? Make some pretense of- no, she dismissed the thought before she even completed it. Irrith was no good at masquerade, and she knew it.

They said Lune was very good at it indeed before she became Queen, disguising herself as a human woman for months on end. Some said that was why she had such strange mortal notions-that even the "safe" bread of the t.i.the left a taint of mortality, if eaten for long enough. Irrith thought it had more to do with loving a human man, but perhaps the two went hand in hand.

Distraction, all of that, from the fact that she didn't know what to do. Irrith was jarred out of it by movement below.

She had spied on people from the concealment of trees, and this was not so different. Her blood quickened as she recognized the thrumpin from the Crow's Head, the Sanist who helped start that brawl. He knocked on Aspell's door, and handed a folded slip of paper to the hob who answered.

Irrith leaned forward, hoping for something of interest, but the hob merely bowed and closed the door, and the thrumpin went away. Frustrated, she smacked one hand against the stone. Seeing Aspell receive a message from a known Sanist was no use at- The door opened again, and Aspell emerged.

Despite herself, Irrith grinned. She might not be much of a liar, nor a thief, nor a knight-but trailing someone in secret? That, I can do. That, I can do.

She went from b.u.t.tress to b.u.t.tress until she reached the end of the gallery. Then, unfortunately, she had to drop to the floor, which meant following at a greater distance, with a charm to silence her feet. Aspell had cast no such thing, which made her frown. If he wasn't bothering to be secret, then maybe this was nothing to do with the Sanists, thrumpin or no thrumpin.

Her mind was so on that question, and on the challenge of neither losing her quarry nor betraying herself to him, that she paid little attention to their path. With a start, she realized they had pa.s.sed the only remaining branch in the corridors, and that only one thing lay ahead.

The Newgate entrance.

Blood and Bone! Aspell was going above. No need to hide that-it was ordinary enough-and once up there, easy enough to give the slip to any pursuers. And Irrith, searching desperately through her pockets, realized what bread she had was in Ktistes's pavilion. Aspell was going above. No need to hide that-it was ordinary enough-and once up there, easy enough to give the slip to any pursuers. And Irrith, searching desperately through her pockets, realized what bread she had was in Ktistes's pavilion.

Aspell went into the chamber. She drew close, into the shadow of one of the pillars supporting the arch, and saw him don a glamour. Then the air whispered, ghost-quiet, as he stepped onto the roundel and floated upward.

Irrith gritted her teeth. I should let him go. Too hard to follow him, too dangerous, and what proof have I it's even worth the risk? I should let him go. Too hard to follow him, too dangerous, and what proof have I it's even worth the risk?

Proof didn't matter. Only the possibility. In her heart, Irrith had sworn she'd find a reason to take Aspell down. It was the only way to purge her own guilt.

Cursing softly, Irrith began to build her own glamour.

Newgate and Holborn: March 16, 1759 Luck seemed to be smiling and spitting upon her by turns. First it sent the thrumpin to Aspell; then it put no bread in her pocket. Now it gave her the gift of a city in the dark of night, when almost no one would be on the streets to wave iron or invoke the Almighty, and by doing so shatter Irrith's unprotected glamour. Still, she wondered what ill luck would follow in turn.

She got her answer when, out of habit, she glanced up to judge the time.

A waning moon shone in the sky, its light breaking through wisps of cloud.

Irrith's heart tried to burst right through her ribs. She actually pressed her hands to her breast, as if that would help her slow its sudden pounding. Hemmed in by walls, she could see only a little of the heavens; the rest looked to still be shrouded in clouds. Hadn't Galen said the comet was near the sun right now? The sun was hours from rising. The comet couldn't possibly be visible. They were still safe.

But the clouds had begun to fail.

Irrith forced herself to concentrate. She could do nothing about that right now, and if she didn't move, she was going to lose the one thing she could could do. Where had Aspell gone? do. Where had Aspell gone?

Fortunately, the likely guess turned out to be the right one. The Newgate entrance, like the Fish Street arch, saw a great deal of use these days, thanks to the growth of Westminster and the areas between, and there was a gleam of flame headed down Snow Hill. Aspell, and someone else-a human, it looked like, carrying a link to light his way. A real human, not a faerie under a glamour. He must have been waiting for the Lord Keeper, and that was the content of the thrumpin's note.

Grinning, Irrith followed. Soon they were on the much wider street of Holborn, and still going west. If they were going to some secret meeting, it could be anywhere in Holborn or the north of Westminster, but it certainly wasn't in the coffeehouse Aspell had taken her to before. Too easy to guess, probably. He thinks like a spy, well enough not to repeat himself. Too easy to guess, probably. He thinks like a spy, well enough not to repeat himself.

Suddenly fearful, she cast a glance behind her, but saw no one. Of course not: he was still Lune's Lord Keeper, with no reason to think the Queen suspected him of anything. And the link-bearer glanced back occasionally, but with that light in his eyes, he hadn't a chance of spotting her. Irrith had spent long enough in the city to be almost as good at hiding as she was in the Vale-except when the occasional bit of pa.s.sing iron made her queasy.

When they turned right at last, her heart began pounding almost as hard as it had upon seeing the moon. She'd been down this road, twice before. Once with Segraine, and once following Galen.

They were going to Red Lion Square.

In the dark of night, when no one was around to see. Irrith quickened her step, risking them seeing her. Aspell had spoken so much of last resorts-but they had another, didn't they? The alchemical plan. She'd told him about it herself. Only she hadn't told him everything: the role Lune might play, and the possible danger they'd uncovered. Whether the scholars had settled the question of the philosopher's stone, Irrith didn't know, but it didn't matter. So far as Aspell knew, alchemy held a way to save the Onyx Hall, without harm to Lune.

Unless he and the brawny man with him did something to prevent it.

In her haste, Irrith almost fell prey to an easy threat. A constable coming down a crossing street made her pull back into the shadows, crouching and holding her breath. Fortunately he was a lazy fellow, whistling as his own yawning link-boy trotted on ahead, making no real effort to see beyond its smoky light. By the time he pa.s.sed, though, Aspell and his man were already in Red Lion Square.

She peered carefully around the corner of a building and saw nothing but an empty square. Coming farther out, she studied the front of Andrews's house. The blue door was black and silent, and the shutters were closed against the night.

The lock on the front door was beyond her abilities, and the shutters of the ground floor windows out of reach thanks to the open s.p.a.ce of the area. How was she to get in?

Against her will, Irrith's gaze went downward, and she cringed in dread.

The area. It lay at the bottom of a set of steps giving access to the cellar, where the kitchens would be located. Those Those shutters, she might be able to open. shutters, she might be able to open.

But first she would have to get past the iron railings that helpfully prevented pa.s.sersby from falling down the steps.

She'd come this far. Even now, Aspell and that man might be creeping into Dr. Andrews's bedchamber, putting an end to the old man before consumption could. And then what he knew would die with him.

Thinking about it wouldn't make the task any easier. Biting down on her own hand, Irrith forced herself down the steps, feeling her glamour crumble around her. Don't think about the iron fencing you in. Don't think about how one careless brush of your elbow could- oh, Don't think about the iron fencing you in. Don't think about how one careless brush of your elbow could- oh, Mab- Mab-don't think about it, just keep moving...

She had to remove her hand from her mouth when she reached the bottom, so she could deal with the window. The slender knife she kept inside her coat was perfect for sliding in between the shutters, fumbling around until she felt the latch lift. When she drew it back, though, the faerie silver of its blade had dulled and blackened, from the iron of the shutter nails. Gagging, Irrith took hold of the wood with her fingertips and pulled it back, until the panels swung clear. Then she was shoving at the window's lower sash, sliding it upward, hardly caring how much noise she made, until she could squirm through the gap and into the cellar beyond.

It wasn't much better here. Iron screamed at her from all over the kitchen: pots, hooks, more things than she wanted to think about. Irrith stumbled forward blindly, and gagged when her hand touched a hinge. Stifling her cries, she dragged the door open and fell out into the blessed darkness of the pa.s.sage. She fled to the base of the stairs and stood there gasping, cradling her stinging hand. I'm a fool. A reckless fool. I'm a fool. A reckless fool.

Carline's mocking voice sounded in her head. And what will you do when you go upstairs, little sprite? Attack those two, all on your own? And what will you do when you go upstairs, little sprite? Attack those two, all on your own?

Yes, if I must. She had her pistol. But only iron shot. Could she even bear to load the gun? She had her pistol. But only iron shot. Could she even bear to load the gun?

It was that or the knife, and that would mean going within reach of the link-bearer's brawny arms. But even as Irrith marshaled the will to go upstairs, she heard something that stopped her where she stood.

Voices. Valentin Aspell's, sibilant and oily, recognizable anywhere. And a hoa.r.s.e, whispery reply, coming from a chest that could no longer manage anything more.

Dr. Andrews.

"Will you live until the morning?" the Lord Keeper asked cynically.

"I will. I must." A pause for coughing. "I have not endured this long only to die now."

"We'll need bread."

Irrith tensed. Bread would be in the kitchen. But it seemed Andrews was prepared, for she heard a soft clink, clink, as of a bowl placed on the floor. "Or should it be the doorstep?" Aspell must have shaken his head, for Andrews recited the rote phrases, t.i.thing bread to the fae. When it was done, Andrews said, "Send your people in pairs. I don't want suspicion." as of a bowl placed on the floor. "Or should it be the doorstep?" Aspell must have shaken his head, for Andrews recited the rote phrases, t.i.thing bread to the fae. When it was done, Andrews said, "Send your people in pairs. I don't want suspicion."

"Dr. Andrews," Valentin Aspell said, with an edge sharp enough to draw blood, "do not presume to tell me my business."

Footsteps, and the front door opening and closing. He was gone.

Irrith sank onto the bottom step, mouth open. What was that? What was that?

She didn't have long to wonder. More footsteps, these light and uncertain, but headed toward the head of the stairs. Blood and Bone! Blood and Bone! She couldn't go back into the kitchen-not with all that iron- She couldn't go back into the kitchen-not with all that iron- Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that she saw a second door, close by her hand. Irrith pushed this one open and slipped through, praying there would not be another world of iron behind it.

The chamber smelled of alcohol and less pleasant things, but no iron sc.r.a.ped across her nerves. Unfortunately, luck was spitting upon her again; light came through the gap of the door, heralding an approaching candle. Irrith's hand b.u.mped a table, and she dove underneath it just before the candle entered the room.

Andrews was dressed, despite the black hour. She watched his feet shuffle unsteadily around the room, light blooming in his wake, as he lit a set of lamps. It revealed two more tables apart from the one she hid under, all three of them large, heavy things, and shelves along the walls. Then the rustle of paper, as he turned the pages of a book.

Pressed into the corner of the walls, concealed by the table, Irrith wondered what to do. Stand up and announce herself? But then she would have to explain what she was doing in Andrews's cellar, and whether she'd heard that strange and worrisome conversation. Any kind of cooperation between him and the Sanists troubled her. How could Aspell- Her entire face creased into a silent wail. My fault. Again. I told him about the alchemical plan; he must have gone to Dr. Andrews. But what are they planning? My fault. Again. I told him about the alchemical plan; he must have gone to Dr. Andrews. But what are they planning?

Gentle tinkling: the doctor was ringing a bell. A moment later, he repeated it, more insistently. She heard him cough, then mutter something too faint to be made out. His feet shuffled from the room, and back up the stairs. Blessing whatever servant was failing to respond, Irrith slipped from under the table, intending to escape while she could.

Horror turned her to stone.

One of the other tables held a crumbled, indistinct shape, so far gone all that could be told was that it had once been very small. The other was much newer: a river nymph, pale and cold and unmoving.

And the third...

Irrith staggered away from the table that had sheltered her. Savennis's clouded eyes stared blindly at the ceiling, as if refusing to look at the gaping hole in his chest. Alcohol, and less pleasant things: she'd been smelling old blood. It stained the table, the shackles that held Savennis, the cracks between the stone flags of the floor, where no amount of scrubbing could remove it.