Through an open window in a golden room the Rainbow came home again. Shouldering aside the darkness, the Rainbow plunged horizontally across the room, hammering forward like a living battering ram of colors. It shot between the startled Seneschal and Burning Man, and they fell back from its thundering elemental presence. The Burning Man cried out and turned away, pressing his flaming hands over his screwed-shut eyes, unable to face the glory of the Rainbow. The Seneschal stood and stared, dazzled and delighted. He’d always wondered what the Rainbow looked like up close. The vivid hues burned in his eyes, suffusing his whole body and wiping away all hurts and pains. And then the Rainbow faded away, and there in the middle of the suddenly tawdry golden room stood Hawk and Fisher and Jericho Lament.
Hawk looked slowly around him as though surfacing from a dream whose hold had temporarily been greater than reality. “Damn,” he said finally. “We’re still alive. How about that.”
“I thought we were finished for sure when the whole of Reverie gave up the ghost,” said Fisher. “Lament, why aren’t we dead?”
“The Rainbow brought us back because we belong here,” explained Lament. “We were never a part of Reverie, so we escaped its doom.”
“Is it really gone?” asked Hawk. “I mean, forever?”
“Who knows?” said Lament. “What matters is that we are cut off from it forever. No more magic … what will the world be like without it?”
“Quieter, probably,” said Fisher. “Do you suppose the Magus knew he was going to die with all the other Transient Beings? Was that part of his plan all along?”
“He knew his time was over,” said Hawk. “What place could he have had in the world that’s coming?”
“Excuse me,” said the Seneschal. “I mean, welcome back and all that, but would it be too much trouble for just one of you to explain what the bloody hell you’re talking about? Where have you been? What happened? What did you find? And how come Hawk’s got both his eyes again?”
Hawk grinned. “Sorry, Seneschal, it’s all been a bit overwhelming. What did we find? The stuff that dreams are made of. Including all the bad ones. And then we watched them all die. Including the Magus.” He sighed. “What matters is that the threat to the Land is over. We’re all safe again. And it will be up to generations to come to decide whether the price we paid was too high. So, did the Burning Man give you any trouble while we were gone?”
The Seneschal blinked a few times. “You’ve only been gone a few seconds. How long did it seem to you?”
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. “Days,” Fisher said finally. “Years. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. The Blue Moon isn’t a threat anymore and never will be again. We’ll give you the full story later, Seneschal.”
“In the meantime,” said Lament, “what are we going to do with the Burning Man?”
They all looked thoughtfully at the dead man wrapped in his own flames, and he glared defiantly back at them. Something had changed in those who had gone through the Gateway and returned. He could feel it. They weren’t afraid of him anymore.
“He’s guilty of mass murder, blasphemy, and desecration, and God alone knows what else,” said Lament. “But he’s already been judged more harshly and more terribly than anything we might do to him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore, even if I could. I’ve seen too much judgment, too much destruction. And yet the Cathedral can never be clean while he’s still here.”
“You’ll never be rid of me!” the Burning Man said spitefully. “This is my greatest achievement and my greatest crime. The first Forest King bound me here, and only another Forest King could release me. And unfortunately for you, the King is dead. I’ll always be here to foul the waters of your holy place and stain its lousy sanctity.”
“Not necessarily,” said Hawk, and there was a weary reluctance in his voice that made them all look at him, as though he was about to pick up some terribly heavy but necessary burden. “You all know who I am. Who I really am. I was, am, and always will be Prince Rupert of the Forest Kingdom. As Harald’s younger brother, the Throne and crown are rightfully mine if I wish. I am King Rupert if I choose to be. So, for my first and only order as King, I release you, Tomas Chadbourne. Go back to the place appointed for you. Go now.”
The Burning Man made a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. “I should have known. They always find a way to cheat you. All right, send me back to the pit. But you can’t take away what I did here. I did terrible, awful things, and would have done far worse, and I’m still proud of it! I was a monster and I loved it! Damn you all …”
And all the time he was fading away, screaming his spite and hatred and defiance, until finally there was nothing left of him in the room but a faint waft of brimstone and black scorch marks on the floor where he’d been standing. For a long time nobody said anything.
“I sent a lot of people to Hell,” Lament said finally. “For what seemed good and just reasons at the time. But I never really thought about what that meant. How can anyone look upon such torment and not feel pity, even for such as he? But there are texts, very old texts, that say the damned are only held in Hell until they have realized the true horror of their sins. Once they truly understand, and repent, they are free to go.”
“Do you believe that?” asked the Seneschal.
“I have to,” said Lament. “I have to.”
Fisher looked away rather than see the turmoil in his face. She cried out in amazement and ran over to the open window, and the others came to join her. The darkness beyond the shutters was gone, replaced by a breathtaking view of the Forest Land, from the highest point any of them had ever known. The Forest and the Land spread out for countless miles in all directions. There were great swathes of woodland, checkerboards of huge open fields, shining rivers and stone and timbered towns. The Forest Kingdom, in all its majesty. And all around the miraculously re-Inverted Cathedral, the Forest Castle spread out in a great sprawl of halls and rooms and courtyards, like waves of stone in a great gray sea.
“Where did all this come from?” Hawk said.
“The Cathedral has resumed its proper place in the sun,” said Lament. “It soars up into the sky, as it was always meant to do.”
“And the Castle’s expanded to its original size, around the Cathedral!” said the Seneschal excitedly. “I can feel it! This is what the Castle was originally meant to look like before its interior collapsed into the mess we’re all used to! A place where rooms stand still, and passageways go where they’re meant to, and doors always open onto the same location.” The Seneschal grinned happily. “For the first time in centuries, the Castle makes sense. This is going to make my job so much easier. No more shifting rooms, no more seasonal migrations. A place for everything and everything in its place. Permanently. I may cry.”
“You can see all the way to the Forest boundaries,” said Fisher in amazement. “This place is higher than Dragonslair Mountain.”
“It’s not all good news,” said Hawk. He pointed, and everyone saw the dark patch in the depths of the Forest, like a black stain in the greenery, a shadow on the Land. “The Darkwood’s still with us.”
Fisher took his arm and hugged it to her. “The Demon Prince is gone forever. And with no Gateway to anchor it here, and no more Wild Magic to sustain it, the Darkwood will probably just fade away over the years. No more long nights of the soul, Rupert. For any of us.”
They all looked out over the Forest and the Land, and with the Cathedral returned, the sky seemed bluer, the sun seemed brighter, and the air seemed fresher, as though an ancient burden had finally been lifted from the Forest Kingdom.
“All the sacrificed dead have been released from the Cathedral,” said Lament, almost dreamily. “I felt them go. Free at last to go to their rest and their reward.”
“All the blood is gone from the Castle interior,” said the Seneschal. “God, my powers are sharp right now. I could see a pin drop. All the art and statues are whole again. I feel like I could read the contents of the prayer books if I wanted to. And I could point to every room in the Castle …” He broke off suddenly and looked at Lament. “The Ossuary. The Museum of Bones—it’s still there. I suppose because it was constructed by human hands rather than magic.”
“It must be dismantled,” Lament told him. “Bone from bone until they can all be identified and returned to their proper graves and their proper rest. If only for the peace of mind of the families involved.”
“There are bound to be some old records, if I dig deep enough,” said the Seneschal. “I’ll do everything I can.”
Hawk looked at Lament. “You’ve still got the box. The Source. What are you going to do with it?”
Lament considered for a moment. “Only the four of us know the significance of the box. And since it cannot easily be opened, I think I’ll take it back to the Ossuary and leave it there, hidden in plain sight among all the other relics. Just a small wooden box with a dubious provenance. And when the Ossuary is finally gone, let the box go to some small country church and be forgotten. Disappeared from history until it’s needed again.”
“You were meant to be there in Reverie,” said Hawk. “Only you could have opened the box … and closed it again. That light …” He stopped and shuddered briefly. “It was like looking God in the eye.”
“Part of my job,” said Lament. “Part of being the Walking Man. But I don’t think I want to be the Wrath of God anymore. I don’t think I could ever be happy sentencing even the most evil of men to Hell, not after what I’ve seen. I’m only a man, after all, with a man’s fallible judgment and temper. But I’m not sure I can stop being the Walking Man. The compact I made doesn’t allow—”
“Compacts are drafted by men, for men,” Fisher broke in. “I think God knew you needed to be the Walking Man after what happened at your monastery, so he let you hold the post for as long as you needed it. Now you don’t anymore; maybe it’s time for someone else to be the Walking Man. Someone who needs it more than you.”
“But how can I be sure?” asked Lament.
“Ask your voice,” said Hawk. “Nothing to stop you from hearing it now, is there?”
Lament listened, and knew immediately that the voice was gone. God had freed him to be just a man again, with all a man’s weaknesses and limitations. His life no longer had a purpose and a destiny, and Jericho Lament thought he’d never been happier.
They all looked out over the glorious view, and it felt like the morning of the first day.
Hawk and Fisher went straight to their rooms, collapsed into bed, and slept around the clock. At ten o’clock the next morning, after repeated attempts to awaken them by knocking loudly, shouting even more loudly, kicking the door with steel-tipped boots, and then all three together, the Queen’s messenger finally summoned one of the Seneschal’s people, and had him unlock the door with his passkey. The Queen’s messenger then stormed into the room, nose stuck firmly in the air, and Hawk and Fisher snapped out of their deep sleep in a moment.
Alert to the presence of a possible enemy, they tossed back the bed covers, snatched up their swords, and threw themselves at the startled messenger. In a moment they had him slammed back against the nearest wall, with two swordpoints at his throat. The messenger started to scream for help, and then swallowed it immediately as two swordpoints dug deep enough into his throat to draw blood. He whimpered feebly, and would have fainted if he dared. Not least because Hawk and Fisher never bothered with nightshirts, and were in fact both stark naked. The messenger stared determinedly at the ceiling, averting his eyes so fiercely, they almost rolled back to the whites, and shouted the word Messenger! so loudly, he hurt his throat.
“A likely story,” said Fisher. “Probably a peeping tom. He looks like a peeping tom.”
“Be fair,” said Hawk. “That is a messenger’s uniform he’s wearing, now I look closely. And no one else would wear an outfit that garish unless absolutely forced to. You couldn’t get me into it on a bet.”
“It had better be a bloody important message,” said Fisher. “Or I am going to makes sausages out of you, messenger. I was right in the middle of a really nice dream, and now I’ll never know how it ends.”
“Was I in it?” asked Hawk.
Fisher grinned. “Tell you later.”
“Messenger, why are you doing that thing with your eyes?” asked Hawk. “It looks really painful.”
“You’re not wearing any clothes!” yelled the messenger. “So I’m averting my gaze. I can’t look upon honored guests unclothed. It wouldn’t be at all proper. And by the way, that’s a really unfortunate place to have a mole.”
“You looked!” accused Fisher.
“I’ve never liked nightshirts,” said Hawk. “They creep up on you in the night. If it got cold in Haven, we just threw another blanket on the bed. Now, what do you want, messenger?”
“The Queen is holding a special Court,” said the messenger. “Right now. She wants to see both of you there, as soon as possible. Though probably not quite as much of you as this. Could you please put me down? I think I’m going to have one of my funny turns.”
Hawk and Fisher lowered their swords, and let him go. The messenger edged away from the wall, trying to locate the door while still averting his eyes.
“Never burst in on us again,” said Hawk.
“Absolutely not,” agreed the messenger. “Can I go now, please? I’d really like to change these trousers and put them in to soak before the stain sets.”
“The door’s right in front of you,” said Fisher. “Tell Felicity we’ll be there in a while.”
“I’m sure she’s counting the moments,” said the messenger. He found the door and left the room, walking just a little stiff-leggedly.
Hawk and Fisher dropped their swords on the bed and got dressed, picking up their clothes from where they’d dropped them the night before. They didn’t bother hurrying. It was only the Queen.
“It’s probably all over the Castle by now,” said Hawk.
“What, about my mole?”
“No, that we’ve saved the Land one more time. The Seneschal never could hold on to a good piece of gossip.”
“So what does Felicity want to see us for?” asked Fisher, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on her boots. “It’s a bit late for a progress report.”
“It’ll either be a medal or a kick in the arse,” said Hawk. “That’s all Royalty ever hand out at sudden, unexpected meetings.”
Fisher buckled on her swordbelt, and went over to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and there were deep shadows under her eyes. She stuck out her tongue, grimaced, and reluctantly put it back again. She looked moodily at her blond hair.
“I wonder how people will react to seeing us,” she said slowly. “I’ve suddenly gone fair, and you’ve got two eyes again.”
“The Seneschal and Lament know who we are,” said Hawk.
“I think the Seneschal always did. Do you think they’d talk?”
“Hell with them all,” said Hawk. “We’ll bluff it out.”
When they finally entered the Court, breezing past the guards at the double doors like they weren’t even there, Queen Felicity was sitting on the Throne with a drink in one hand and her long cigarette holder in the other. She didn’t seem unduly upset at her guests’ tardiness, which rather annoyed Fisher, and beckoned for them to approach the Throne. Hawk and Fisher ambled forward, taking their time and casually checking out who else had been invited to this special Court gathering. Sir Vivian and the warrior woman Cally were standing on one side of the Throne, surprisingly close together. In fact, Cally was being openly affectionate to Sir Vivian, who seemed embarrassed but quietly appreciative. As if that wasn’t astonishing enough, Jericho Lament and Duke Alric were standing on the other side of the Throne. Lament had given up his traditional long trench coat for more usual Court attire, and was in actual danger of appearing fashionable. Fisher barely nodded at him, amazed that Felicity let their father, the Duke, stand in such a favored position, and actually astounded that the Duke was standing comfortably erect without any of his usual metal and leather supports. He was even smiling slightly. Fisher couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the Rainbow had brought them back to the wrong world, and seriously considered pinching herself to see if she was awake.
The Questor, Allen Chance, and the witch Tiffany were standing together before the Throne, and Hawk and Fisher stopped to chat with them. Chance and Tiffany had that special glow that comes from recent bedroom gymnastics, though Fisher had to quietly point this out to Hawk before they got there. He never noticed important things like that. The two couples greeted each other happily, indulged in a few rather obvious double entendres, and did their best to ignore the dog Chappie, who was currently lying on his back at Chance’s and Tiffany’s feet, all four paws in the air, tongue lolling out and showing everything he’d got.
“A lot’s happened while you were gone,” said Chance.
“So I see,” murmured Hawk, and Tiffany blushed.
“What’s happened with the Duke?” asked Fisher. “Where’s that cage he usually lurches around in? Where are his guards? And he’s smiling, dammit. Who died?”
“He gave up the Candlemass Charm to save Felicity’s life,” said Chance.
“The Duke did?” Fisher had a hard job keeping her voice down.
“It was very brave of him,” Tiffany said firmly. “Once the Charm was gone, I was able to cure him. He’s almost been in a good mood since.”
“You pinch me,” Fisher said to Hawk. “Better yet, slap me round the head. I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“You’d better move on,” said Chance. “The Queen’s been waiting for you very patiently, but … well, she is the Queen.”
“Hell with that,” said Hawk. “Sir Robert? Is that you?”
He and Fisher moved over to join Sir Robert Hawke and Ennis Page, standing grinning together, just a little apart from everyone else. Hawk clasped them both by the hand, smiling so hard, his cheeks hurt.
“What the hell happened to you two? You look twenty years younger!”
“The Magus did it,” said Sir Robert. “Not exactly out of the goodness of his heart, but … We both feel like ourselves again. Strong and sharp and ready to cause trouble in all directions. You know, Lament and the Seneschal have been telling your recent exploits all over the Castle, and singing your praises in quite embarrassing detail. You two are the heroes of the moment. Pretty much what I expected, really. I always knew you’d save us all.”
Hawk gave him a sharp look, and turned to Ennis Page. “You’re looking much improved from when I last saw you. Do you remember—”
“I remember everything,” said Page. “You were kind and honorable to an old comrade, not that I would have expected anything less from you.”
“Hold everything,” said Fisher. “What are they doing here?”
Not too far away, in a little space all their own, stood the Shaman and his Creature. The Shaman stood hunched over, looking and smelling as foul as ever, glaring at everyone from behind his mask of woad and clay. As always he was fuming with barely suppressed anger, but surprisingly he wouldn’t meet Hawk’s or Fisher’s eyes. The Creature stuck close to him, crouched on all fours, showing nasty yellow fangs as he snarled at everyone.
“The Queen said she wanted them here, so here they are,” said Sir Robert distastefully. “I just know he’s got fleas. And God knows what the Creature’s got. If you want to know why we’re all here, well, a lot’s happened in your absence, and the word is the Queen has a lot she wants to say about it all.”
“Anyone else expected?” asked Fisher.
“Just the one,” said Sir Robert. “And the Seneschal’s never been on time for anything in his life. I think he does it on purpose, just to annoy people.”
“Yeah,” said Fisher. “That sounds like him. Though he has mellowed. I haven’t seen him spit at anyone since I got here.”
The double doors flew open and the Seneschal bustled in. He nodded briskly to everyone, sneered at the Shaman, and hurried forward to bow before the Throne. He was carrying a long sword in an old scabbard, which rather baffled Fisher. Everyone knew the Seneschal wasn’t allowed weapons. Not since the unfortunate incident with the insolent visiting dignitary and the blunt end of a pike. Fisher watched with interest as the Seneschal had a quiet word with the Queen, glanced back at Hawk and Fisher, and then moved over to stand with Lament and the Duke.
“All right,” said Hawk. “That is the last straw. We leave you lot alone for ten minutes, and the whole world goes through changes. Has someone been putting something in your coffee? What the hell did happen in our absence that could bring so many disaffected people together in one place without trying to kill one another? Don’t tell me sanity’s broken out at last.”
“Well, to start with, we put down a rebellion against the Queen,” said Chance as he and Tiffany and a reluctant Chappie came over to join them. “The Duke started it, but was in turn betrayed, and risked his life to save the Queen, so everything’s all sweetness and light in that department now. Supposedly. Anyway, the Duke and his armies are no longer a threat to the Kingdom.”
Fisher sniffed dubiously. “I’ll believe that when I see it. The Starlight Duke never gave a damn for anyone but himself and his own ambitions.”
“No, really,” said Tiffany, radiating sincerity as only she could. “I’ve offered to set up some conciliation meetings, where they could discuss abandonment issues and the like, and they almost said they’d think about it.”
“Yeah,” growled Chappie, scratching his ear fiercely as though determined to dig something interesting out of it. “There’s so much harmony and good will in the air these days I may puke. It’s not natural. Still, at least these two idiots finally got it together. I was beginning to think I’d have to draw pictures. They’re inseparable now, of course, so I’ve had to adopt her as well as him. I always wanted to raise some puppies.”
“We don’t plan on having any children just yet,” Tiffany protested, blushing again.
“You were trying hard enough last night,” said the dog. “Though if you do want children, one of those things you were doing won’t—”
“Shut up, Chappie,” interrupted Chance. The dog sniggered and started licking his balls. Everyone looked away quickly. Chance fixed his gaze on Hawk. “Lament’s been saying the returned Cathedral is no longer a threat to anyone. Is that right?”
“I would like to hear the answer to that one personally,” Queen Felicity said loudly. “If you could spare the time, Captains Hawk and Fisher …”
Hawk and Fisher approached the Throne, and nodded briefly to everyone there. They didn’t bow to Felicity, but no one said anything. “The Cathedral is back to normal,” said Hawk. “Back to what it was always intended to be, a beacon of light in a dark world. That’s the good news. The bad news is that magic is going out of the world. Permanently. It won’t happen overnight, the Magus said it could take centuries. But it does mean the Rift is fundamentally unstable. So make the most of it while you’ve got it.”
“You mean we could be cut off from the south again?” asked Felicity, taking a large gulp from her glass. “Sweet Jesus, that’s all we need. There’d be riots. I think I’d join them. I couldn’t live without my morning coffee anymore.”
“As magic goes out of the world, the Deadlands will settle down, too,” said Hawk. “If I were you, I’d start planning trade routes and new territory acquisitions.”
The Queen thought about that, and then smiled suddenly. “If the Deadlands were to become habitable again, we could be on the verge of the biggest land rush in history. And if we could grab and control most of it, we wouldn’t need the Rift anymore!”
“Don’t get too excited,” said Fisher. “The Magus said there was so much magic seeped into the warp and weft of the world that it would take ages to disappear completely.”
“You’re sure the Magus is gone?” asked the Queen.
“Quite sure,” said Hawk.
“Good,” said the Queen. “He always disturbed the hell out of me.”
“Has anyone got around to telling Lightfoot Moonfleet that the Magus is dead?” asked Fisher. “They always seemed very close.”
“We were,” said the tiny winged faerie, appearing suddenly in their midst before the Throne. She grew quickly to human size and looked coldly about her. She was wearing a long black dress for mourning, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. She looked somehow less human without it, more alien, otherworldly. Her delicate wings shone with a pale pearlescent light. “I always loved him,” she said flatly. “Even though I knew he wasn’t Real, and that one day he’d have to go where I couldn’t follow.
“Now it’s time for me to go. He was the only reason I stayed in the mortal world anyway. All my faerie kith and kin are long gone, walked sideways from the sun. I am the last faerie, and there’s no place for me in a world without magic. I go to join the rest of my kind, in the place where shadows fall. Good-bye, everyone. It’s been fun.”
She blew Hawk a kiss and winked at Chance, and then shrank down to nothing and was gone.
“It’s started,” said Lament. “The world is changing.”
“Everything’s going to change,” Hawk pointed out. “Nothing will ever be the same again.”
“Sometimes that’s a good thing,” said Lament. “I’m going through changes myself. I am no longer the Walking Man; just a man now, as any other. No faster or stronger, and certainly not invulnerable anymore.”
“Don’t I know it,” said the Queen. “He stubbed his toe earlier, and you’d have thought he was dying.”
Lament looked at her fondly. “And to celebrate my newly restored humanity, I have chosen of my own free will to marry the woman I have loved for so many years. Felicity has agreed to be my wife. Which to my mind says more about my courage than my common sense, but I never could resist a challenge.”
“Oh, I’ll make you suffer for that later,” said Felicity, smiling.
“Hold everything,” said Fisher. “You mean you’re going to be King of the Forest?”
She looked quickly at Hawk, who was staring thoughtfully at Lament, but for the moment he had nothing to say.
“I will be King to Felicity’s Queen,” Lament answered carefully, “but we’re both really only Regents for Stephen, until he comes of age and takes the Throne for himself. And then the Forest and Hillsdown will join together, peacefully, uniting two long-sundered Lands into one, as they were originally. No more wars, no more border skirmishes, no more young men going off to die too soon.” Lament smiled. “I spent far too much time dreaming of heaven. I’m going to spend what’s left of my life trying to make some here on earth, for everyone.”
“This all seems rather sudden,” Fisher said.
“We’ve waited a long time for this,” said Queen Felicity. “God knows, if we hadn’t both been so damned stubborn we’d have done this long ago. Do you have any objections, Captain Hawk?”
“Not my place to make any,” Hawk said mildly. “I think you’ll make a good King, Jericho. You always did care more about other people than yourself. Just try to remember you’re not the Wrath of God anymore.”
“With magic leaving, the world will, I hope, become a quieter, saner place,” said Lament. “A world that will no longer need a Walking Man.”
And then everyone turned sharply as there was a loud growl to one side, but it was already too late to tell whether it had come from the Shaman or the Creature. The Shaman was glaring fiercely at Felicity and Lament, and hugging himself tightly, as though to keep from flying apart. His eyes were fierce and piercing behind the clay skull mask, but his lips were pressed tightly together. Disturbed by the Shaman’s anger, the Creature stirred restlessly at his side, showing his fangs and flexing his claws. His slow cunning eyes moved restlessly back and forth, searching for an enemy he could attack. But the Shaman said nothing, so everyone turned back again.
“You’ve done very well, Captains Hawk and Fisher,” said the Queen, finishing the last of her drink and tapping ash from the end of her cigarette. “You’ve saved the Forest Kingdom from another Blue Moon and changed the lives of everyone you’ve met. A shame you couldn’t find my late husband’s killer, but—”
“Oh, but we did,” said Hawk, and it suddenly went very quiet as everyone looked at him. “It really wasn’t that difficult to work out once we’d got all the distractions out of the way. There was only one person it could have been. Only one person with the means, the motive, and the opportunity. Only one man who could do such a terrible thing.” He turned to look at the Shaman. “Isn’t that right … King John?”
He held out his left hand, and there in his palm was a small polished ruby, like a drop of blood. The Crimson Pursuant, glowing brightly in the presence of Forest Royalty. Everyone in the Court gasped a little as Hawk advanced on the Shaman, and the ruby glowed more and more fiercely. Hawk stopped right before the Shaman and closed his hand abruptly, cutting off the bloody glow.
“You look very different now,” said Hawk. “And your voice is very changed. But there were always clues. The Creature is your old friend the Astrologer, transfigured by the Demon Prince. He would never have accepted anyone else as a friend. Then there was your dedication to the people, added to a complete disregard for the new established authorities. Of course you weren’t impressed by any of the new faces at Court. You’d been a King here. And of course, the Shaman comes and goes, and no one knows how. Everyone said that, but they put it down to magic.
“As King John, you knew all the hidden entrances and secret passageways in the Castle. Including some that only the Royal Family knew, for reasons of security. It was easy for you to get past Harald’s guards and into his private quarters. You knew all the ways in. After all, they’d been your quarters when you were King. And finally the Magus’ protective wards couldn’t keep you out because they’d been set up to allow Forest Royalty to come and go as they pleased. That should have been safe enough. Everyone thought the Royal line now consisted only of Harald and Felicity and Stephen. Rupert was long gone, and everyone knew King John was dead. How did you become the Shaman, Your Majesty?”
There was a long pause as everyone watched breathlessly, and then the Shaman slowly unfolded his arms, straightened up, and stood like a whole new person. There was authority, even aggression, in his stance now, and when he spoke, his voice was still rough and hoarse, but nowhere near as bad as it had been before.
“I only wanted to be a hermit,” he said slowly. “After all that had happened in the Demon War, I knew I wasn’t fit to be King anymore, so I walked away from it all. Leaving the Throne for someone wiser than I. There were a lot of people living rough in the Forest in those days, finding food and shelter where they could. People broken by the horrors of the long night, physically or mentally, and often both. No one noticed one more hermit. And then I found the Creature that used to be my friend. I first learned magic trying to find a way to cure him, to turn him back into his old self. It wasn’t difficult to learn magic in those days; there were a lot of magical hot spots in the darker parts of the woods, left behind by the Blue Moon’s passing. Power, just waiting for someone to come along and pick it up. And I had lots of time to learn how to control and use it. But nothing I found or learned was enough to undo the Demon Prince’s curse. My old friend remained a Creature. I like to think he knows who I am somewhere deep within him.
“But even after all I’ve learned, I would still have been happy to remain nothing more than a hermit. A man apart, free at last from duty and responsibilities. But over and over again the peasants came to me, seeking help and advice, because everyone knows hermits and magic-users are always wise men. They told me of the changes in the Court and in the Land, and how King Harald was throwing away everything we’d fought for through his own stupid intransigence. So I put on my mask of woad and clay, changed my voice and my stance, and came back to Forest Castle. And no one knew me. No one recognized the man who was once King. I was almost disappointed. I came back to try and make a difference, to save the Land one more time, as the Shaman.” He smiled coldly at Hawk. “I always knew that if anyone was going to see through my disguise, it would be you. I always knew you’d be the greatest threat to my plans.”
The Creature reacted to the rising anger in the Shaman’s voice, roared once, and then surged forward, heading straight for Hawk. On some level the transformed Astrologer still knew his old enemy. The Shaman cried out for him to stop, but the Creature threw himself at Hawk’s throat, his terrible claws reaching out before him. And Hawk spun expertly on one foot, his sword already in his hand, and he cut the Creature out of midair, the heavy blade smashing through the Creature’s ribs and deep into his side. The Creature crashed to the floor, screaming and kicking, still trying to get to Hawk as blood gushed from his side and sprayed from his snarling mouth. Hawk jerked his sword free and stabbed the Creature through the heart, the blade sinking half its length into the heaving malformed body. The Shaman and the Creature cried out together, and then the Creature convulsed and died. The Shaman stumbled forward as Hawk pulled his sword free and looked coldly down at his kill.
“Payment for an old debt,” he said, almost viciously. “For all the harm and evil you did, Sir Astrologer.”
The Creature’s shape shuddered and twisted, shrinking in on itself, bones creaking and joints snapping as he resumed his old human shape again. His curse had finally been broken in the only way it could be, by his death. The Shaman stood over him, and no one could see his face behind the woad and the clay.
“You never knew him in his young days,” he said finally. “He was good and true then. He could have been a sorcerer, and a great man in his own right, but he gave it up to be my man because I needed him. Any of you would have been proud to know him then. He just lost his way, that’s all. It can happen to the best of us.” He shook his head slowly, weighed down by a great tiredness of the body and of the heart. “No tears. I ran out of tears a long time ago.”
“Why did you kill Harald?” asked Hawk. “Why did you kill your own son?”
The Shaman looked at him. “You ask that, standing there with my old friend’s blood dripping from your sword? I killed Harald for the same reason you did this. Because it was necessary.” He looked across at Felicity, sitting stiffly on her Throne, numbed by shock and an answer she’d never expected. “He wasn’t worthy, Felicity. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see the world was changing; and he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, change with it. He was determined to be an absolute monarch, even when it was clear the time for such things was over. He was prepared to see the whole country plunged into civil war and worse, just so he could be King. He had to be right, whatever the cost.” The Shaman sighed wearily. “The last thing I ever expected from Harald. He always understood politics so much better than I ever did. But in the end the power seduced and corrupted him just as it did me. You start to believe you’re the only one who can see the big picture, that you’re the only one who understands what needs to be done. You’re the King, so you must be right.
“I came back to the Castle as the Shaman, hoping to show him the right way by example. But he ignored me. Wouldn’t even meet with me. So I went to see him in his rooms, my old rooms, and revealed to him who I was. I told him I hadn’t come back to be King. I just wanted to help and advise him. I didn’t want the Throne. Didn’t want anyone else to know who I was. I had come back to save the Land. To save him.
“And he laughed at me. Laughed right in my face and told me I was a fool, and always had been. It was his turn now, and he knew what he was doing. I saw then that he could never change, never be what the Land needed, so I killed him, for the good of the Kingdom. It was my duty. I brought him into the world, so I had to send him out of it. One thrust with a hidden blade, right through the heart. He died so easily, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ve always known my duty. I’ve always done what had to be done. Just like you, Rupert. And Julia.”
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and then looked quickly about them, and were almost shocked to discover that no one else seemed at all shocked or even surprised by the revelation. If anything they all seemed a little relieved they could finally stop pretending not to know.
“All right,” said Hawk to no one in particular. “When did you know? Chance, did you tell them?”
“He didn’t have to,” said Queen Felicity. “Everyone here knew who you were the moment you walked in. It takes more than a few scars and a cheap dye job to hide faces as famous as yours. But we all decided that if you wanted to be here incognito, that was your right. So we all went along with it. Officially, Prince Rupert and Princess Julia were never here.”
Hawk turned slowly back to face the Shaman. “I always hoped I’d meet you again someday, Father. I never really believed you were dead. But I never thought it would be like this. Why did you go away? Why did you let everyone, let me, think you were dead?”
“It was necessary,” said the Shaman flatly. “How many times do I have to say it? I wasn’t fit to be King. I left, so someone else could take the Throne. Someone more worthy. You, or Harald. I hoped it would be you, but you never did have the courage to be King. You never wanted it badly enough.”
“I never wanted it at all,” said Hawk. “I wanted a life of my own. So I went out and made one.”
The Shaman looked at him and finally nodded, grudgingly approving. “You’ve grown up, Rupert.”
“I had to. My father was dead.” Fisher came to stand beside Hawk, and he smiled at her for a moment before turning back to the Shaman. “Harald spoke to me after his death. Told me to beware our father’s legacy. It took me a while to work out what he meant, but once I realized you had to be the murderer, I understood. Might makes right; that was always your way and his. Using your power and position to enforce what you believed in, and to hell with everyone else. It lost you the Kingdom and it got Harald killed. I was starting to go that way myself in Haven, but I pulled myself back from the brink. There has to be law and justice for all, to protect the world from people like us. So, Father. What do we do now? I can’t let you escape. Are you ready to face justice?”
“Justice?” asked the Shaman. “Who are you, any of you, to judge me? I am the King, and the King is the Land. I did what was necessary to save the Land. None of you have a right to judge or condemn my actions. I caused the problem by allowing Harald to take the Throne, and I put a stop to it in the only way possible. Now he’s dead and the Land is safe, and I will go back into the Forest to be a hermit again. And let us all pray my duty never calls me back here.”
“What for?” asked Hawk. “To kill again? Who would you kill this time if you didn’t like the way things were going? Lament? Felicity? Stephen? You haven’t changed at all, Father. You still believe might makes right.”
“I may have given up my Throne, but I still have my responsibilities,” the Shaman said fiercely. “I would have thought you of all people would understand what duty means. Now get out of my way, boy. I’m leaving.”
“No,” said Hawk. “I can’t let you go, Father.”
“What will you do, Rupert? Cut me down like you did the Astrologer? Can you kill your own father? I killed my son, and it nearly destroyed me. None of you understand what it cost me to do what I did. To do my bloody duty.”
It began to rain, right there in the middle of Court. Great heavy drops of rain falling out of nowhere, faster and faster, quickly forming into a slim blue figure of living water. She looked around her, her wet mouth moving in a slow, gentle smile. Sir Vivian stepped forward, and knelt and bowed his head to her.
“Vivian?” asked Cally, one hand at her swordhilt.
“Sir Vivian?” asked Queen Felicity uncertainly. “Who is this … person?”
Sir Vivian looked up into the calm watery face, and she nodded. Sir Vivian rose to his feet and turned back to the Throne. “This is the Lady of the Lake, Your Majesty. An elemental formed around the ghost of a dead woman. She is the spirit of the Land, our ancient mother moving through the wet earth, the force that makes the green life grow, and nurtures us all.”
The Shaman moved slowly forward, all the strength and arrogance gone from his face. The Lady turned toward him and he stopped abruptly, looking into her face, unable to approach any further. “Oh, dear God,” King John said softly. “It is you. Eleanor …”
Shock and surprise moved through the whole Court as they looked numbly at the Lady of the Lake.
“Queen Eleanor?” asked Chance.
“Mother?” asked Hawk.
“Yes,” said the Lady in a voice like a sparkling stream, smiling on them all like a benediction. “Or at least, I was. Eleanor died long ago, and what was left of an ancient Transient Being called the Lady of the Lake merged with her dying spirit so that she could continue. I am the last Transient Being in the world of men now, and with Reverie gone, I shall fade from the world as magic departs.”
“Mother,” said Hawk. He started toward her, but the Lady stopped him with a kind but implacable look.
“Your mother is dead, Rupert. I’m the Lady of the Lake now. The spirit of the Land. I remember you, but I have to be everyone’s mother now.” She turned her attention back to the Shaman, who actually shook under her gaze. “I am here to judge you, John. Who has the better right than the woman who was your wife, Queen to your King, mother to the man you murdered?”
The Shaman sank to his knees before her and tears ran down his face, cutting thick trails through the clay and the woad. “Oh, God, Eleanor; I killed our son! And I killed you, too, through my jealousy. And I think perhaps I’ve killed all that was good and honorable in me. I’m not the man you knew, Eleanor, the man you married. There’s so much blood on my hands, and not all the water in the world can ever wash them clean again.”
“That’s for me to decide,” said the Lady of the Lake. “Will you accept judgment from me, John?”
“I would tear the living heart from my breast and give it to you,” said the Shaman. “Do what you must, Eleanor. I deserve it.”
“You committed a terrible crime, John,” said the Lady. “Not for you the peace of verdict and sentence, and the balm of punishment. Instead, I sentence you to sleep in the Land, in my embrace, not to wake again till you are needed. To redeem yourself and the Land one last time.”
“To make amends,” said the Shaman. “That’s all I ever wanted, really. I’m so tired, Eleanor.”
“Then come to me, my love,” said the Lady of the Lake. “And sleep the sleep of centuries.”
The Shaman rose to his feet and looked slowly around him. He nodded to Felicity on the Throne, and Lament beside her. “Guard the Land, King and Queen. You have my blessing, for what it’s worth.” He turned to Hawk. “Good-bye, Rupert. It takes a wise man to know he’s not a King, and a strong man to walk away from it. I have always been proud of you, son.” He looked at Fisher. “Proud of you, too, Julia. You were like the daughter I never had. Watch his back, and try and keep him out of trouble.” He turned to the Seneschal. “One last gift and command to you, my loyal servant. Go and see your grandmother, the Night Witch. She’s currently the Mother Witch at the Academy of the Sisters of the Moon.” He smiled as general consternation ran round the Court, touching everyone but Tiffany. “The Night Witch founded the Academy after the long night ended. I always knew, but I said nothing. She has the right to work out her own redemption. I thought you ought to know, Seneschal, before I left. Family is precious.” And finally he turned to face the Lady of the Lake. “I’m ready, Eleanor.”
She held out her arms to him, and water spilled from them like fountains. “The first Forest King was married to the Lady of the Lake. A true marriage of the Land and the King. Now the Cathedral is returned, the Castle is restored, and all things come full circle again.”
King John walked forward into the embrace of the Lady of the Lake, and her liquid form closed around him, washing away his appearance as the Shaman as he faded away and disappeared within her. The Lady smiled around her one last time, perhaps especially at Sir Vivian, and then her watery shape exploded into a mist of tiny droplets that hung on the air and then was gone. The Shaman and the Lady of the Lake, King John and Queen Eleanor, not to be seen again for many, many years.
“It’s time Isobel and I were leaving, too,” said Hawk after a respectful pause. “We’ve done everything we came here to do. There’s no need for anyone else to know who Harald’s murderer really was. It would only complicate things. Blame it on the Magus. No one ever trusted him anyway.”
“You could stay,” Lament said suddenly. “The Throne is rightfully yours, by line of succession. Felicity and I would step down for King Rupert and Queen Julia.”
“Well, yes,” said Felicity. “Who are we, after all, to compete with legends?”
Fisher caught her eyes briefly. The Queen hadn’t sounded all that enthusiastic. “No,” she said kindly. “We could have been King and Queen long ago if we’d wanted.”
“I always knew I wasn’t the stuff Kings are made of,” said Hawk. “And I’d always be worried about my father’s legacy coming out in me. You’ll make a much better job of it, King Jericho.”
“Then stay anyway, as Captains Hawk and Fisher,” said Lament.
“No,” said Hawk. “I’d always be tempted to interfere. The Forest Kingdom needs a new start, with no reminders of its troubled past. The truth of our identities would soon spread, and I’ve never been comfortable being a legend.”
“Right,” said Fisher. “You have to watch your language all the time.”
Duke Alric cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped forward. Fisher turned to look at him. “I was wrong,” the Duke said flatly. “And there’s not many people who’ve heard me say that. I’m sorry, Julia.”
“For having your people beat us to a pulp, or for sending me off to die in the dragon’s cave all those years ago?” asked Fisher, her voice cold as ice.
“I thought I needed to set an example,” said the Duke. “You’ve done well, Julia. You could come back to Hillsdown with me.”
“I don’t think so,” said Fisher. “We’d be at each other’s throat in a week. We’re too much alike to ever be close.”
“Yes,” agreed the Duke. “There is that. You always were your father’s daughter.”
Fisher looked at Felicity, sitting on her Throne. “So, Fliss … “
“So, Jules … Good to see you’ve gone blond again. Black never did suit you.”
“Keep an eye on our father.”
“Of course. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”
They nodded, smiled, and looked away, glad that was over. They’d never had much to say to each other. Hawk made his good-byes to Sir Richard and Ennis Page.
“Give Jericho a hard time over Reform,” said Hawk. “For the good of his soul.”
“Of course,” said Sir Robert. “You are sure he isn’t the Wrath of God anymore? I’d hate to be hit by a sudden plague or boils. Or frogs.”
“One last thing,” said the Seneschal, stepping forward with a certain ceremony. “Not everything has changed for the better. The Darkwood is still with us, and still a danger to the Forest. Therefore, Captain Hawk, I must formally require you to leave the Rainbow sword with us.”
Hawk slowly unbuckled his swordbelt and hefted the weight of the Rainbow sword in his hand. He knew the Seneschal was right, but it still felt like giving up an old friend, only newly recovered.
“And you left your axe in Reverie,” said Fisher. “The High Warlock’s last gift to you.”
“Ah, hell,” said Hawk, handing the Rainbow sword over to the Seneschal. “I’ve got both eyes again. I can always find another weapon.”
“Precisely,” said the Seneschal. “And so the Forest Kingdom grants you one last gift.” He held out the sword and scabbard he’d brought into Court with him. “I found this in the Old Armory. It is the sword of the first Forest King. I’m sure he would want you to have it. So that wherever you go, part of the Land will always be with you.”
Hawk smiled and buckled the old sword onto his waist. “Now I remember why I sneaked out of the Castle last time. I hate these drawn-out good-byes.”
“So, Sir Seneschal, what will you do now the Castle’s geography has returned to normal?” asked Fisher. “They’ll be replacing you with maps and signs.”
“And a good thing, too,” said the Seneschal. “I got tired of chasing rooms round this dump long ago. I’m going to be heading a team investigating all the wonders and mysteries of the returned Cathedral. More than enough work there to see me out.”
Hawk and Fisher stood together and looked around the Court one last time.
“Try and get it right this time,” Hawk said finally. “I’d hate to have to come back and sort you out again.”
“Right,” said Fisher. “Being a legend’s bloody hard work.”
Sometime later, Hawk and Fisher rode away from Forest Castle on the horses they’d brought with them from Haven. They didn’t look back. There were no crowds to cheer them on their way because no one knew they were going. Which was just what Hawk and Fisher wanted. It was mid-morning on a warm and pleasant day, with the sun shining bright in a clear blue sky. The air in the green woods was crisp and sharp.
“So,” said Fisher. “Who do you want to be now? You’ve been Prince Rupert and Captain Hawk.”
“I think I’ll stick with Hawk. He’s someone I chose to be. You still happy with Isobel Fisher?”
“I suppose so. But I’m definitely not going back to Haven.”
“No,” said Hawk. “We’ve burned our bridges there.”
Fisher laughed. “Burned a hell of a lot more than that. They won’t forget us in a hurry. In fact, I think it could truthfully be said that we did about as much good for Haven as that city could stand. Time for a new start. Again.” She looked sideways at Hawk. “And there’s always the children to consider …”
“Yes,” said Hawk. “They seemed like good kids. There’s no guarantee they’re what we’d end up with, of course.”
“Oh, of course. No guarantee of any kids at all.”
“No. But we could have a lot of fun trying.”
They grinned at each other and then rode on a way in companionable silence.
“Let’s just go out into the world and see what’s there,” Hawk said finally. “Go adventuring again. Help people where we can. Kick the bad guys where it hurts. Because that’s what we do best.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Fisher. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll win another Throne along the way.”
“God, I hope not,” said Hawk. They both laughed and urged their horses on.
And so they rode out of Forest history once again, and back into legend, where they belonged.