The Eighth Court Read Free Page B

barn, melting into the shadows within. “Are you there?”
    “Are you sure you weren’t followed?” The voice was almost a whisper.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    There was a long pause.
    “Tell me,” instructed the voice.
    “What about my side of the bargain?”
    “All in good time.”
    “There’s nothing happening. Nothing significant.”
    “I’ll decide what’s significant,” said the voice.
    “The discussions are endless. The courts are in stalemate. Teoth and Krane are opposing them, while Kimlesh, Yonna and Mellion are in support. Barthia doesn’t know which side to choose. It’s the same as last time.”
    “That in itself is informative,” said the voice. “And you?”
    “I don’t have a choice.”
    The voice laughed softly. “No, you don’t. How is it?”
    “The same.”
    “Nothing is certain. The sooner the better.”
    “I need to know.”
    “And risk exposure? The time will come soon enough. Have faith.”
    “Easy for you to say.”
    There was another long pause.
    “Are you there?”
    When there was no reply, the shadow slipped away.
    In the basement, ten minutes had come and gone. I paced up and down, wondering how long to wait before I went back up and tried to oust Alex from her bedroom. Going back up would re-set the clock and she would be at least another 15 minutes after that, but equally she could have retreated back under the quilt with no intention of appearing, leaving me to pace up and down.
    I glanced again at the door, steeling myself to go back up there, when it opened. Standing nervously in the doorway was an Alex I’d never seen before. She’d somehow tamed her hair into a style that framed her face with dark curls. There were gold studs in her ears, which I couldn’t remember ever seeing. She had a royal-blue sweater over a long, flowing maroon skirt that came down to her ankles, and she was wearing a pair of low-heeled court shoes.
    “What do you think?” I shook my head and she looked panicky. “You think it’s too much?” she asked.
    “No, no. It’s not you, it’s me. For some reason I thought I was the father of a young girl. Then this woman appeared and I… Your mother’s not the only one who’s got some adjusting to do.”
    She smoothed her hands down her skirt and smiled hesitantly at that. “We should go,” she said.
    I stepped forward to the Way-node, glancing back to her. “You know where we're going?” I asked her.
    “I'll be right behind you.”
    I stepped forward onto the Way and felt the power rise beneath me. In a moment I was whirled away across the deepest night.
    The advantage of using the Ways is that you can cross a great distance in no time at all. The disadvantage is that they don’t always end up where you want to go. While Alex and I were soon in the suburbs of London, we still had to walk to our destination.
    “How much further is it?” Alex asked me. “These shoes aren’t meant for walking.”
    “Aren’t they?” I asked her. “I thought you’d just, you know…?”
    “What?” she said.
    “I thought it was just glamour – all the clothes and make-up?”
    “It’s real,” she said. “Which is why I’m going to have blisters.”
    “I could give you a piggy-back,” I told her.
    “We are not doing piggy-backs, not when I’ve gone to all the trouble to look nice for Mum. Have you any idea how much this skirt will crease?”
    “No one has to know. You can hide it all if you want to.”
    “Mum will know.”
    “How?”
    “How the hell do I know? She just will, that’s all. It can’t be that far, surely?”
    “If we cut through here, it’ll be quicker,” I said, heading for a grassy pathway between some houses.
    “Dad!”
    “What?” I said, threading my way past the brambles that overhung the path. She stood at the entrance to the pathway, her hands on her hips in exactly the pose that her mother used when she was exasperated with me. “What?” I repeated.
    “You’re not expecting me to go through