CHAPTER FIVE

Lady Kelindria of Faerie.

The cottage stood at the end of a dark alley, low and squat, like an animal lurking in the dirt and debris. The roof was made from thatch that had turned black and patchy with age. A thin trickle of sweet-smelling smoke writhed reluctantly from the crooked chimney, like a snake stirring slowly in the heat.

Lady Kelindria of Faerie wrinkled her nose in disgust as she took in her surroundings. She didn’t like dirt. She liked things to be beautiful. Perfect. Like herself.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her pets were keeping her gown off the ground. The children cowered in fear when her gaze passed over them, but they were doing their job adequately, so there was no reason to punish them. Not yet, anyway.

Kelindria had never been to the Morrigan’s dwelling before. There was never any need. Besides which, it was dangerous. If any of those loyal to Titania saw them talking, there would definitely be trouble. As it stood, Titania may have suspicions that Kelindria was behind the strengthening rebellion, but she had no proof, and Titania was nothing if not fair. Another point against her. If it had been Kelindria in Titania’s position, she would have sent assassins to deal with her as soon as she suspected who was behind the trouble. Titania’s sense of fair play would prove her undoing.

But Kelindria had to be here. The Morrigan had sent one of her ravens with a message. She was to come straight away. It was important. Ordinarily, Kelindria would have bridled at such a summons, but there had been something urgent about the note that made her decide to attend.

Four small green lights flared to life as Kelindria approached the cottage. The lights shone from the empty eye sockets of two skulls mounted above the gate. The gate itself and, in fact, the whole fence were made from bones. Human bones, if Kelindria was any judge. She sniffed in disapproval. She wanted to say that it was all theatrics, that the Morrigan was simply being dramatic, but Kelindria had learned to tread carefully when it came to the witch. She was old, older than Kelindria, and had powers that ran down to the bones of the earth. Kelindria had found it wise not to underestimate the crone. Besides which, Kelindria still had need of her.

But once the crown was in her hands, Kelindria would see to it that the Morrigan disappeared.

Kelindria put her hand to the gate. As soon as she did so, a quiet voice whispered out of the air.

“Who seeks entry? Be you here of your own free will, or be you sent?”

“You know exactly why I’m here,” snapped Kelindria. “Now invite me in before I lose my patience.”

There was a pause, then the gate swung silently inward. Kelindria walked through, ignoring the skulls that turned to follow her movements. She walked up the short path, snakes and spiders scurrying away from her feet into the long grass that fronted the dwelling. There was a fluttering sound from above. Kelindria looked up and saw that the Morrigan’s white ravens had appeared, perching on the roof of the cottage as well as the roofs of the buildings that formed the walls of the alleyway.

Kelindria ignored them and stood expectantly before the crooked door. If the Morrigan expected her to knock, then she was going to be disappointed.

The door swung inward. Kelindria allowed herself a small smile of triumph, but a moment later the smile faltered. The Morrigan was not one to pander to others. Why was she being so accommodating? Kelindria suddenly wondered if it had been wise to come here without any bodyguards. What if the Morrigan had turned against her? What if she had decided to give her support to Titania? Or worse, what if she fancied the crown for herself?

There was nothing else for it, though. She was here now. She couldn’t simply turn away. It would be seen as weakness.

So instead, Kelindria straightened her shoulders and swept imperiously into the cottage, the children who held her dress scrambling to keep up.

The door led into a dim sitting room. The only light came from a low fire that had burned down to the embers. The Morrigan was sitting in a chair by the hearth, staring at the flickering red coals. Black Annis and Jenny Greenteeth stood behind her.

“Well?” demanded Kelindria. “What say you? Why did you summon me?”

The Morrigan slowly shifted her gaze from the fire, the red glow sliding across her features as she did so. The light pulsed and flickered against one side of her face, glinted in her black eyes.

“I think you know,” said the Morrigan quietly.

Kelindria frowned. “I don’t like games, old one. Whatever grievance you have, out with it.”

“Fine.” The Morrigan pushed herself to her feet. “I want to know why you have gone behind my back.” She took a step forward. “I want to know why you have broken our pact.” Another step, but Kelindria refused to back away. “I want to know”—and here the Morrigan’s voice rose to a shout— “why there is a girl running around London town with the key to Faerie hidden about her person!”

Kelindria’s eyes flicked between the Morrigan and Black Annis. What was this? Some kind of trick? “What are you talking about?” she asked in amazement. “Is this a jest?”

“No jest, I assure you,” snapped the Morrigan. “So I ask again, is this your doing? And why weren’t we told?”

“You talk in riddles,” said Kelindria. “The key to Faerie, you say?” She shook her head. “Impossible. You must be mistaken.”

The Morrigan had calmed down somewhat in the face of Kelindria’s obvious confusion. “Then see for yourself,” hissed the hag. “Annis?”

Black Annis stepped around the chair and approached Kelindria. Jenny Greenteeth followed close behind her, clutching a jar made from smoked glass. The Morrigan turned away and dropped a log of wood on the fire. The embers flared to life, sparks exploding upward and floating into the chimney.

Greenteeth handed the jar to Annis. The crone lowered her damp hood and smiled at Kelindria, revealing the rotten stumps of her teeth, like craggy rocks, in the black, glistening cave of her mouth. Annis pulled the lid from the jar and reached inside with her bony fingers, withdrawing what looked like a fat tick about the size of an acorn.

Kelindria couldn’t hide her surprise when she saw this. “Is that a nostalgae?”

“It is,” said the Morrigan, without looking up.

Annis quickly popped the nostalgae into her mouth and closed her eyes. Kelindria knew this was not from any kind of distaste, but rather because she was concentrating. Kelindria watched, fascinated. She could see little bumps form on Annis’s hollowed cheeks as the nostalgae searched for a way out. But this soon stopped.

There was a minute of silence. Then Kelindria saw Annis’s mouth open. Slowly, ever so slowly. The nostalgae’s legs poked out of her mouth, scrabbling over the crone’s weathered lips. Her mouth grew wider and wider, and as it did so, Kelindria could see this was because the nostalgae was growing in size, pushing Annis’s mouth open as it enlarged.

Just before Kelindria thought Annis’s mouth must split apart, the crone breathed in through her nostrils, then exhaled sharply. The nostalgae flew from her mouth with a pop and landed on its back. Still the parasite grew, until a few moments later it was the size of Kelindria’s head, its gray skin stretched tight and translucent.

Images flickered inside this bulbous sphere. They were grainy and faint, but Kelindria could see them clear enough. For that was the magic of the nostalgae. Instead of blood, it fed on thoughts and memories, sucking them from someone’s mind and storing them inside its body. Kelindria bent over and watched the flickering images. She saw the Thames. A small, dark-haired girl running along the shore and behind a shack. She saw the viewer (Black Annis) confronting the girl.

She saw the key.

For there was no doubt about it. The girl held the key to Faerie, the key Titania was supposed to be in possession of.

But how? Was it some kind of trick? No, you couldn’t fool a nostalgae. It didn’t feed on imagination. Only real memories.

Then what had happened? Had the girl stolen the key? Preposterous. The Dagda was a member of Titania’s court. He would have alerted her if anything had happened to jeopardize their plans. And if not him, then she would have heard it from somewhere else. This wasn’t the kind of thing that could be kept secret.

She turned to Black Annis. “You’re sure it was real? It wasn’t a replica?”

“It was real. I felt its power, I did.”

“Then what does this mean?”

“You really had nothing to do with this?” asked the Morrigan suspiciously.

“No! You think if I had the key we’d be sitting here right now? I would have opened the doors to Faerie. London would be ours.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“This troubles me,” said the Morrigan. “It is yet another element we seemingly have no control over.” She stared moodily into the fire. “What of this so-called Raven King? Are we at least any closer to finding him?”

“We are not,” said Kelindria shortly.

“Then maybe it is time to abandon your search. We don’t even know if he is real.”

“But what if he is? What happens when we take London? The story says the magic in him will sense the danger. He will awaken into his powers and come for us. That is what he does. No. We must find out the truth first. And if he is real, we must deal with him before we make our move.”

“I tell you one thing,” said the Morrigan. “Despite his name, he has nothing to do with ravens. They are my creatures. I would know if they were linked to such a being.”

“Then why is he called the Raven King?” asked Kelindria.

“I know not.”

Kelindria stared at the nostalgae. The image was replaying once again. She stared thoughtfully into the frightened eyes of the girl.

“Do you know, this may be a good thing,” she said slowly.

The Morrigan shifted her gaze from the fire. “How so?”

“Think on it. What has been holding up our plans? The fact that Titania has the key to Faerie hidden away. The fact that she could summon her armies from Faerie if she needed to. But if there is a second key … How much simpler to find this child and take the key from her? We could open our own gate to Faerie. We could bring our own army through and storm the tree. Titania would be caught unawares.”

All eyes turned to the nostalgae. The image showed the girl running away along the banks of the river Thames.

“We must find that girl,” said Kelindria.

The Morrigan nodded. “I will send the Crimson Knight back to the river. His hounds will soon find her scent.”