The Merlin Conspiracy (41 page)

“It was that Candace woman, Your Honor,” Old Sarum whined. “What she tells Salisbury, Salisbury does. Nothing to do with me, except that I got roped in to do the dirty work.
As
usual.”

“Mrs. Candace,” orchestrated London, “used to be a great beauty. I knew her well. She held salons in Berkeley Square. Then she married an Italian Count.”

“Yeah, but he died, and she gave all that up,” Old Sarum said. “Lives in Salisbury now and bosses the country from there.”

“I know,” London rumbled. “And you should speak of her with proper respect.”

“All the respect in the world, Your Honor,” Old Sarum protested. “Anything you say. But I don't have to tell someone who straddles a great river like you do that humans are just water under your bridges. Water under all your bridges. Mrs. Candace, these two young'uns with me, they're all the same. They come, they go. You live on. Even I live on, Your Honor.”

“We grew up for and by means of humans,” London thumped out. He sounded like hammers on a building site.

“Well, speak for yourself, Your Honor,” Old Sarum whined. “All humans mean to me these days is they let me send one of them off to argue in Winchester. What I'm trying to say, Your Honor, is that it's nothing to you what humans come or go. So you might as well let me take these to the Magid.”

“On what grounds?” chorused London.

I began to feel increasingly uneasy. It wasn't just that I was frantic to get to Grandad or even that we were standing in the road being argued over by two cities. It was because now that I had learned to see the near-invisible creatures like the ones who inhabited the Dimber Regalia, I could see—and hear—them here, too. They were being drawn here by the argument. The hedges behind were full of stealthy rustlings and small blinks of light. Bluish shadows were stalking in from the rear of the car. These felt different from those I had seen earlier today. I realized that the ones I had seen by sunlight were the lazy, harmless creatures of the day. These, now, were the people of the night. And very few of them were friendly.

Grundo had seen them, too. His head kept turning toward the hedges as the argument went on.

At length London said, in a distant sort of city buzz, as if he were considering, “I've no objections to the humans entering. When have I ever prevented that? I suppose they can take a bus or a taxi.”

“We've no money!” Grundo called up at him anxiously. “We used it all yesterday.”

I don't think London heard him. He suggested in chorus, “Or they can walk.”

Old Sarum sent a contorted glance toward the hedges and the shadows in the road and stuck his lower lip out. “As to that, Your Honor, I'm not sure they would be safe. I was told to keep them safe, meaning no disrespect.”

“I have never guaranteed safety,” London replied, “or wealth either.”

“No, and your streets aren't really paved with gold neither,” Old Sarum retorted. “
I
know. It's not
your
fault some humans get rich and have a lovely time and some has to doss on a doorstep or get robbed. Nothing to do with you. But we're not talking about that, Your Honor. We're discussing about me driving them to a particular doorstep like Mrs. Candace
wants
me to. Is that too much to ask?”

There was a long pause. London appeared to be listening to something in the distance, the singsong of a fire engine or an ambulance perhaps. We certainly heard something like that, followed by clocks striking, while we waited. Then, finally, his vast figure straightened a little. His chorus voice sounded amused.

“I have been under orders, too,” he told us. “Even me. It seems that time was needed to penetrate certain magical defenses. The enchantment was absolute while it lasted, but I can let you go now. Get in your car and drive where you want to go.” He lifted one huge, glossy shoe and stepped over the nearest row of houses into the next street. Before he lifted the other foot, he stood astride the houses and gave a rumbling chuckle. “I shall be with you all the way, of course.”

He was, too. We climbed quickly and thankfully back into the car and Old Sarum drove on through the city. And every time I glanced out of the open half of the window, I saw London's huge shadowy figure wading among the houses beside us.

It seemed to take an age to get to Grandad's house. I was mad with anxiety all the way. I knew that if Sybil was able to order London to hold us up while Grandfather Gwyn carried out her orders, then she had grown hideously powerful and we
had
to tell Grandad.

But it never occurred to me what she had done. Old Sarum drew up outside the house at last with a fine shriek of brakes, and I jumped out and rushed to the front door. While I clattered away at the knocker, I could hear Old Sarum going on at Grundo: “Oh, I don't do it to be thanked. I'm just the dogsbody, I am. You rush away, too. Don't mind me, I'm only a rotten borough....” And Grundo was trying to make himself heard, saying, “But we
do
thank you. We're very, very grateful. Hey, let me get the salamander out before you drive away....”

Long before the door was opened, Old Sarum had driven away and Grundo had joined me on the doorstep with the salamander on his shoulder. I clattered the knocker one more time, and the door was opened at last by my cousin Toby.

Toby is always a pale boy, but just then he was chalky, with a dazed sort of stare to his eyes. Behind him, I could hear the most dreadful yelling and sobbing noises. Dora, I thought.

“What's happened?” I said. “What's wrong?”

Toby gulped. “Grandad. He was carried off just a minute ago. Mum says it was the King of the Dead who took him.”

The inside of me seemed to pitch downward into somewhere icy. “I shall kill Sybil,” I said. “Quite soon.”

TWO
NICK

I hadn't expected Roddy to be quite so overbearing. I suppose she was upset about all the things that had been happening, but then so were we. The way Maxwell Hyde had been taken—just like that—seemed to hang over us all like nervousness and horror. It was almost as if something awful was
going
to happen. Instead of it just having happened, if you see what I mean.

I was picking up furniture and game pieces and trying to calm Dora down while I did it. Salamanders were rushing about, and transparent creatures were bundling this way and that in droves. I was saying, “Hush, you'll upset the salamanders. Hush, it doesn't
help
to yell,” when Roddy came striding in with Toby and another boy behind her.

She stood staring about. You'd think her eyes were weapons. They sort of snapped dark fire. Otherwise she was just as I'd been remembering her, with that look of having simply grown, like a tree or something. She had a fabulous figure, even in baggy old trousers and an old gray sweater, quite thin, but all beautifully rounded, and she smelled nice, too, even from where I was on the floor. My heart began beating in little rapid bangs. My legs felt weak, and I could feel my face flushing red and then draining white again.

But part of the simply grown thing with Roddy was that she never even thought she might have that sort of effect on people. In fact she didn't care
what
effect she had. She said, “This place looks as if a bomb hit it! And there are salamanders
everywhere
. Haven't any of you thought of the fire risk?”

That was enough to start my heart beating normally, if you count angry thumping as normal. And I could pretend that any strange color in my face was due to groping under the sofa for game pieces.

“You!” she snapped at me. “What's your version of Grandad's disappearance?”

I stood up. It helps to be tall enough to loom a bit. “What, no ‘Hallo, Nick, fancy seeing
you
again!'?” I said. “Shut
up
, Dora.”

“Yes, be
quiet
, Auntie,” Roddy said. “Of course I remember you, but this is urgent.”

“Gwyn ap Nud,” I said. “I know him because we have him on Earth, too. Just rode through here and hauled Maxwell Hyde up on his horse and left.”

At this stage Dora decided to stop screaming and turn social. She surged off the sofa with tears on her face, saying, “My niece, Arianrhod Hyde, and her friend, Ambrose Temple, Nick. Nick is Daddy's Oriental pupil, Roddy dear.”

This attempt at Courtly graces misfired rather. I said, “I am
not
Oriental! I've
told
you!”

Roddy snapped, “He prefers to be called
Grundo
! I've
told
you!” Then she whirled round on me and demanded, “Haven't you
any
idea where Grandad's been taken?”

Obvious, I thought. Land of the Dead. But she was in such a mood I didn't say so. “I could try some divining,” I said. “I've got pretty good at that.”

“You do that,” she commanded, and whirled round on poor Dora again. “Auntie, Grundo's very tired and hungry. Could you find him some supper? And I'm afraid we'll both have to stay the night, unless the Progress is very near. Can you find Grundo a bed? Could he go in with Toby?”

I looked at this Grundo. He was a strange-looking kid with a hooked nose and a faceful of freckles, slightly older than Toby. He didn't look particularly tired. He and Toby were giggling together because they both had salamanders sitting round their necks.

It was never any good commanding Dora. Maxwell Hyde had always been pretty careful not to, not if he wanted anything done, that was. She stared at Roddy and then went into wet mode, sinking onto the sofa and wringing her hands. “But I couldn't think of anything to go with the potatoes!” she moaned.

“Oh,
God
!” Roddy said. “Grundo has to eat
something
!”

I saw she was going to start snapping commands at Toby next, and Toby had already had a pretty tough day. He was looking wiped. “Through here,” I said, and led the way to the dining room where the cheese and the potatoes were still on the table. I fetched out more plates and knives and found the pickle.

Grundo stared a bit and said in a strange grunty voice, “I'm not sure I can manage cold potatoes after all that cake with Mrs. Candace.”

“There's plenty of cheese, though,” Roddy said coaxingly, pulling out a chair for him. “Sit down and try to eat a bit anyway.”

She was like that all the time with this Grundo. To other people, she was all “Grundo must have this, Grundo mustn't go without that,” and with Grundo himself she was as if she was his caring elder sister—or his very fussy mother, more like. You'd think Grundo was the only person in her world. It annoyed me. I wanted to tell her to forget Grundo and get a life. Anyway, the sight of food had its usual effect on me. I sat down, scooped up pickle, and began a second supper. Toby came and sat beside me and started eating, too.

“What are you
doing
?” Roddy demanded.

“Eating,” I said.

“But you're supposed to be divining for where Grandad is!” she said.

“I will when I've got my strength up,” I said soothingly.

Roddy was disgusted. “I asked you for help. You're—you're obstructionist!”

“And you,” I said, “would get on a bit better if you stopped being so uptight and domineering.” I'd never seen anyone look so outraged. She was too angry to speak. Toby shot me a look that said he was going to laugh any minute and probably choke on a potato. So I said to Roddy, “Oh, come on, sit down and get something to eat yourself.”

She stared at me like a queen on a particularly haughty day. “I tell you,” she said, “there's a
conspiracy
.”

“I agree,” I said. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean you have to stop eating. And while you eat, we can work out what we ought to do about it. That make sense?”

She dragged a chair out reluctantly. “Sit down, Grundo. The most important thing is to find out where the King's Progress is at the moment.”

“They're still in Norfolk,” Toby said. “It was on the morning media.”

“Oh,” said Roddy. She seemed a bit daunted for a moment. “I
must
get in touch with my parents!” she said. “I know! Grandad's bound to have Dad's latest speaker code, isn't he?” She was pushing her chair back again to go to the far-speaker as she said it.