‘Only then will the Golden Ones respond.’
‘By then it might be too late.’
She looked towards the distant horizon that hid her home. ‘Only then.’
7
Church led the way back into the Court of the Soaring Spirit as dusk was falling. Lanterns burning in a million windows transformed the oppressive architecture into a place of magic, and the streets were filled with the aroma of exotic spices from evening meals.
Niamh returned to her quarters immediately. Throughout the entire return journey, she had been brooding over the repercussions of their discovery of the enemy fortress. With each passing day she was less like the goddess who had enticed Church into the Otherworld. Her arrogance and confidence had been shattered and she stalked the corridors of her palace as if death were only one step behind.
The first thing Church did was to seek out Decebalus and Aula, who were drinking in the Hunter’s Moon. They had recently returned from their own expedition to explore the Far Lands to the east.
After Church explained about the enemy fortress, he said, ‘I have a job for you, if you’re up for it.’
Decebalus raised his flagon. ‘Anything, brother.’
Church told them of Veitch’s plan to murder any Brothers and Sisters of Dragons he could find. ‘If I’m allowed, I’m going to return to our world at regular intervals and bring back any of us I can find – and who are prepared to come.’
‘After they have carried out whatever mission Existence has planned for them in our world,’ Aula noted.
Church nodded. ‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy or successful, but at least I’ll be able to save some of them from Veitch. We’ll also be able to build up a force, here in the city, for whatever fight we’ve got ahead of us.’
Decebalus nodded approvingly. ‘An army of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.’
‘Well, maybe a squad …’ Church bent forward so he would not be overheard. ‘I want the two of you to look after them. Give them all the information they need. Find them somewhere safe to stay, either here or outside the city. And get them ready for whenever they’re needed. Will you do that?’
Decebalus grinned and drained his flagon.
‘There are worse jobs,’ Aula said before downing her own drink.
Church quickly returned to the Palace of Glorious Light where the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons had been given quarters in a tower that faced the setting sun. By accident or design, it was far removed from the main living quarters of Niamh’s staff.
Lucia had already turned her rooms into a reflection of her character, filled with obscure artefacts, talismans and strange objects she had located in the court’s markets and shops. One chamber had been set apart for practising her Craft, and it was there that the owl resided. Church had started to think it was less a bird than something else that had adopted the image as a disguise; it always looked at him with an unnerving intelligence.
Church had also come to realise Lucia’s potential. Somehow she was tapping directly into the energy that manifested as the Blue Fire. If she could truly manipulate it, she would be capable of anything.
‘Perhaps,’ she mused as they sat sipping wine while Jerzy practised his juggling, ‘we are all capable of drawing from that reservoir of power. We only need to find the right key to unlock the part of our mind that has the ability to direct it. For me it is the words of power, the correct hand movements, the rituals. For you—’
‘I need to find the lamp containing the missing part of my Pendragon Spirit,’ Church said. ‘Without that, I’m not going to be unlocking anything.’
‘She has it. I am sure of it.’ Lucia didn’t have to specify who she was. ‘She cannot be trusted. The gods have manipulated mortals since the world was formed. She has already manipulated you.’ A pause while she savoured her wine, and then a statement designed to appear throwaway: ‘Why do you indulge her?’
‘I don’t.’
‘You have not attempted to break her control over you.’
‘She’s agreed to release me if I find her brother.’
Another pause, another carefully considered statement: ‘She is developing a fascination for you.’
‘As a specimen, maybe. Not in the way you mean.’
Lucia smiled at Church’s naivety. ‘I have seen the way she looks at you when you are not aware. Whenever you speak, her attention is drawn to you. She does not treat you like chattel, though by any definition that is what you are.’
‘She’s a goddess.’ Church finished his wine. ‘And I’m a man. At the very best it would be social suicide.’