NOAH SPEAKS

I was devastated as I absorbed what the Lord of the Faerie told me—that Weyland had sent the plague to further his ambition to acquire the kingship bands.

For an instant I believed him, but then my benumbed brain screamed at me that it was the imps who had delivered the message to Charles, and I knew that Weyland now had little or no control over the imps.

At least, I thought Weyland had no control over them. He rarely saw them. They had sometimes come to the house, and I knew Weyland occasionally sent them out on a mission. But then, he had not known that Catling had control of them until very recently.

Maybe the message had come from him.

I defended Weyland stoutly to Coel, but in my own mind I was no longer so sure.

Would he have done this?

A few short months ago I would not have doubted. The use of plague to force Brutus-reborn’s hand would have stunk of Weyland.

However, Weyland had promised me that he would make no move on the bands until I had attained my full powers as Mistress of the Labyrinth. Then I could retrieve the bands. I had believed Weyland’s promise.

Should I have done that?

When we left The Naked Jane and I did not go directly back to Idol Lane. Instead, we sent our senses scrying through London.

I felt the difference instantly. Death and disease were not unknown to me. As Eaving, goddess of the waters, I felt it constantly as it appeared here and there about the land. That was unwelcome, but always, always part of the natural order of things.

This plague was different. It was black and terrible, but it was also completely unnatural. It had no place within the natural cycle of life and death. If I had not been so absorbed with Weyland and with learning the ways of the labyrinth then I would have realised this long before.

“Dear gods,” I whispered. “This stinks of deceit!”

“Aye,” Jane said. “Weyland’s deceit, surely.”

I did not answer. She had far more reason, far more right, to blame him than myself.

“Do you truly think it is the Game and not Weyland?” said Jane. She was watching me very carefully, now.

“The plague stinks of Catling, Jane. Surely you can smell it?”

“No,” she said. “I can’t. I am curious, Noah, why you are so desperate to blame Catling and not Weyland. What has he done then, to merit such belief?”

We returned to Idol Lane, Jane still waiting for a response to her question.

She did not get it. In truth, I don’t know if I could have answered it. Why feel so wretched that Weyland might have set this plague? Should I not have expected it of Weyland, the great Minotaur?

I hadn’t expected it of the man I had come to know.

Unless that man was a lie.

I felt miserable, and I wondered if my promise to shelter Weyland was the reason I kept insisting that it could not have been him to cause this plague.

Weyland was, as usual, waiting for us in the kitchen. He rose, and, as usual, kissed me. Then he frowned, for he felt no increase in the power of the labyrinth.

“You did not learn today?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and looked significantly at Jane.

She threw me one of her sharp glances, but withdrew into the parlour, and a moment later up the stairs, and I turned back to Weyland.

“I was distracted,” I said, “by the spreading evil that has London in its clutches.”

He shrugged, disinterested.

That made me furious. “I am Mag’s successor, Weyland! I am this land—do not expect me to shrug and turn away!”

“What has caused this temper, Noah? You can hardly blame me for the plague.”

I said nothing, staring at him.

“What? You do want to blame me for the plague?” He gave a short laugh. “Why not lay at my heels the blame for every woman who has died in childbed, or for every cat which has become lethally entangled in the wheels of one of the city’s dung carts, or for every child dead of fever?”

“Have you caused this spreading sickness, Weyland?”

He was studying me very carefully now. “Noah, why fret so over ‘blame’?”

“Have you caused this spreading sickness, Weyland?”

He stared, silent, then spoke. “No. I had thought very little of it until your hysterics this evening.”

He was treating me like a child, and I was furious. “You are being blamed for it.”

Again, that short, humourless laugh. “What care I? No doubt I am blamed for most ills that beset the world.”

“And for that you can hardly blame anyone but yourself.”

He put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “Why are you so upset, Noah?”

“I thought you might have set the plague to gain yourself some advantage.” To gain the kingship bands of Troy, but I could not say that.

“Ah. Having heard of the plague, you immediately leapt to the conclusion that I had caused it. I thought we understood each other better than that, Noah.”

“It is rumoured,” I said, “that you sent a message to Charles via the imps, saying that you would not stop the plague until he handed you the kingship bands.”

“How would you know what had been whispered to Charles, Noah?”

“Because…it was just a rumour, Weyland.”

Oh, he could have forced it out of me. I could see the want simmering along with anger within those intense hazel eyes.

He wanted to. So badly.

And he didn’t. He just gave a single nod, and stepped back. “I have not caused the plague, Noah. You know I haven’t, for did you not tell me how it is that Catling controls the imps?”

“But…but this message was passed to Charles some time ago, before you knew about Catling. I wondered…I knew you still used the imps from time to time, and I thought you may have used them for this message. I had to ask.”

“And do you believe me now that I have given you my answer?”

“I wish…” I said, and watched the disappointment gather in his eyes.