Bobbin Granville watched Beatrix as she was dragged up from the Golden Gate dungeons and shoved into an unmarked coach driven and guarded by his men. Next to him Barry Cook, the leader of the Salisbury Humanist Movement, smoked a pipe.
"You want her for what?"
"Leverage," Bobbin told him. "Call her an insurance policy, Barry." Barry didn't need to know about Earth. Nobody did. That stupid girl was his ticket to being the most ingenious, forward thinking leader of his age. He wasn't about to share.
"You just paid a guard a hundred gold pieces for her. Do you have any idea how much weaponry we could have got for that?"
"That girl is Clarence O'Leary's lover."
Barry sniffed. "The Necromancers won't like it."
"They don't have to know."
"They know Bobbin. They know everything. And we need them if we are going to be successful."
Bobbin ground his teeth, usually his conversations with Barry Cook were hopeful, but today Barry's lack of faith was frustrating.
"They don't know everything Barry, and the last time I checked they worked for us. Our Master pays them handsomely."
Barry didn't seem too sure.
"Have some faith, think about how far we have come in such a short time. With Clarence on the throne, controlled openly by Grendal we have our example set. Royal Blood does not determine suitability to rule. Play your part and publicise it."
Barry pointed to the letter in Bobbins pocket, he had read it whilst they waited for Beatrix to be brought up from her cell. "The Leprechaun Nation does not intend to recognise Humanity as equal in law and has no plans to place it on the agenda for discussion. Humanities value in the Leprechaun Empire is recognised. Even the High family employs Humans. Any attempt to unlawfully further a human agenda will be seen as an act of rebellion against the Council of the Lights rulings and will be given to the Human Empire to prosecute as they see fit." Barry puffed on his pipe. "That is a direct quote from the Stewards office. A direct quote from the same letter that commends you on your fine work bringing the lover of the King to the attention of the Council. Did you really think they would reward you so highly?"
Bobbin laughed and shook his head as they watched the coach drive off towards Salisbury docks. He turned and got into his own coach and once settled, he leaned out the door so he could continue to speak to Barry. "Grendal is aware of us now- Aware of me." He raised his chin as he said it, knowing that his eyes had that powerful shine his mother used to love. Determined, she had called him. "When events come to pass, he will remember my name Barry, and then we'll talk again. You'll see. This will be favourable for us. Beatrix will be favourable for us."
Barry didn't sound convinced. "You'll be sailing soon?"
"Morning tide," he said. "Down to Stonedruid City and off to the Seastones. I've been summoned to our masters side." He raised an eyebrow, watching with satisfaction as Barry tried to hide jealousy.
~
The dockyard stank of oakum, tar, rotting fish and human sewage. It wasn't the same selection of smells Clarence had been used to at Gelding Town Docks where the scent of the salt sea air masked the worst of the smells with the aroma of rotting seaweed.
Salisbury dockyard wreaked. He was sure he would get ill just breathing it all in. Dressed as an Innisman nobody questioned his right to be here, wearing a sword, asking questions. The shipyard office said that no boats had left for Stonedruid but that two were scheduled to go once the flooding went down. He was hopeful it would be in the morning. When Clarence saw the name of the second ship he knew where Beatrix would be. The Doppleganger. The ship Bobbin Granville sailed on.
If he killed Bobbin- would he be able to jump before Bobbin's crew killed him?
Was it worth the effort? That shit of a servant had made Clarence's life a misery. Clarence had killed and wounded so many people recently and none of them deserved it as much as Bobbin did.
Before he approached the Doppleganger he staked it out. He saw them taking on provisions. Watched Bobbin strutting around on the deck as if he owned the whole boat. Issuing orders to doating crew members as they took on provisions. There was the Captain Hans, a woman hanging off his arm- not Beatrix- he stood with one hand around her and one on his hip. Clarence felt the corner of his mouth curl up. The famous Captain Hans, a pirate captain with a fleet of ships and the best privateer contracts money could buy. His black hair curled down his back in much the same way Clarence remembered his cousin Freddie's did. Bobbin spoke to him with his hands behind his back, his whole posture smug. He spoke with his head tilted back, and he laughed often.
The sailors swarmed the decks. All of them muscled, healthy, not a hint of scurvy- Hans made them eat citrus fruit and drink lemon water on the long crossings. Clarence saw two windlords pointing to the sails. He saw a Witch levitate a barrel from the ground onto the deck, and saw the port hatches for twenty four cannon- twelve each side. It was a pretty ship, and fast too. Painted in the light brown of the Humans with a checkered black and white pattern just above the waterline.
"Master Granville wants to know how long you are going to sit there watching us?" A voice said behind Clarence. Clarence jumped and turned. A ratty little man with broad shoulders and a bulbous nose raised an eyebrow at him.
"Tell that bastard to come down here and face me."
Ratty snorted a laugh. "Not a chance mate. You want to speak to him, you do it on the ship."
Clarence rounded on him. "Listen, mate. I've killed more than enough people over the last few days, and though he definitely deserves it, I don't intend to kill him. Tell him to get down here."
The pirate sniffed a laugh, "Or what?"
"Or I'll sink your fucking ship," Clarence growled and he meant it too. He pointed across the dock to a tavern called the Muddocker "I'll be having a drink in there," he said. "Tell him to bring Beatrix."
He didn't give Ratty the chance to protest and he stalked across the dock and practically kicked the door to the Muddocker open. The barman served him without a fuss and wouldn't take his coin- too much respect and fear for the Innisman surcoat- Grendal's reach was vast. He drained the cup, held it out for another, grinding his teeth as he waited for Bobbin.
Kept waiting.
By the time Bobbin showed up he was furious.
Bobbin stood in the door with his eyebrows raised and a mocking smile on his lips. Beatrix wasn't with him.
Clarence slammed his drink down and stood up, "Where is she?"
Bobbin raised his hands- "Who?" His lips split into a grin. "I thought you would be in a carriage on your way back to Grendal Innis by now?"
"Did you?" Clarence snarled, taking steps towards Bobbin. Who had the sense to take some back to keep the distance between them. "You asshole Bobbin."
Bobbin started to laugh. "I'm the asshole?" he sounded incredulous. "That's rich coming from you."
Clarence's hand went to his sword- "I have never done anything to harm you. You lied to me over and over- Why?"
"Never done anything?" Bobbin tutted, his eyes flicked to Clarence's sword and back to his face, the smile was gone. "My parents died Clarence. Once your father found out Rosa was a Witch and dismissed them they couldn't get other work. I wrote to you- I pleaded for your help and you ignored me."
"I sent enough for you to start again." Clarence stood taller, "You said you had settled in London and that you were seeking work at the docks."
Bobbin spat on the floor. "I said we were starving, I said I needed help. That my father had drunk it all away."
Clarence blinked at him, the letter he had received had not said that.
"Don't pretend ignorance," Bobbin sneered. "You, who proclaimed to care about Humanity, but lacked the gumption to try and change anything. You're the worst kind of person Clarence. You and that bitch Beatrix are as bad as each other. She's just like you isn't she? Selfish. Morally corrupt. Completely uncairing that she can do some good in the world for fear of having to do anything. How dare you come here demanding to know where she is, as if I would help her."
"So where is she?" Clarence asked, Bobbins anger towards him had stripped him of his own. He felt he deserved it. "The Nags Head said she was with you."
"Where she should be. You know, my plan Clarence was never about you being in control of the Leprechauns- It was about keeping Grendal in power. I realised pretty quickly that you lacked the strength to make any kind of change, but even if Grendal does nothing, just the fact that he is there is enough for me to rally Humanity to my cause."
Clarence felt a white hot rage surge through his veins.
"Beatrix is his prisoner. She came to me Clarence and I sold her to the High Steward. She even paid me for the pleasure." He dug his hands into his pocket and held up gold. "Think how many ships and how many treaties this will buy me. Think how many slaves I can free with this. At least know that her sacrifice is going to a noble cause."
Clarence took a step towards Bobbin, but the pirate whistled through his teeth as he danced back laughing. Clarence became aware of people standing in the shadows, by the windows and at the doors. "This whole pub is surrounded by my men. You will leave here alive Clarence, and so will I."
"One day Bobbin, I'll kill you," Clarence spat.
Bobbin tipped his head back and howled with laughter. "I'm sure you will try," he cried. "But in the meantime, you best get across to have a chat with your Steward before he rapes your girlfriend."
A wave of nausea sent Clarence spinning. Bobbin mock bowed towards the door.
"I've got a coach waiting outside for you Clarence, can't have our future High King turning up to the gates of his castle on foot, can we?"
Clarence turned and left the tavern, got on the coach and headed for the Fortress. The only thing that mattered was keeping Beatrix safe.
~
Clarence winced as Grendal closed the door behind him. He cast his eyes around the bookshelves and paintings of his late father's study with apprehension. Pervasive odours from his childhood were overwhelming and with his jaw tight Clarence crossed the room and sank into a chair opposite the state desk. Grendal sniffed, smoothed his lank, oiled hair back from his temples and his sour face wormed into an amused grin, "You choose that seat?"
Clarence realised that he had left his father's seat vacant, though by rights it was his to take. He knew Grendal would see it as weakness and take it as a sign that he was not fit to take his father's place. Grendal crossed behind the desk and sat down, he wore the grand chair well. "So the prodigal son returns," he muttered. "Eleven years. Light! How you have changed. I didn't expect you to be so filthy."
Clarence's jaw set, he couldn't meet Grendal's eye, he studied the polished floorboards instead.
"I always knew where you were, though why you eventually chose Gelding Town is beyond me," Grendal rolled his eyes. "The High Priest counselled your father to ignore you and let you be. A damned load of good that did you. I was against it but King Edward wanted to avoid further embarrassment so he did as Tupuddle advised." The nuances of Grendal's voice made Clarence's skin crawl and every spat vowel was like a whip. To make it worse he could smell lavender and the rank undertone of his sour milk breath. "I thought you were taking your family's assassination as your ticket to freedom. Honestly, I didn't expect your landlord's capture to be enough for you to return on your own free will. Why did you come back to Salisbury?"
"I had to."
Grendal tipped his head on one side and sniffed, "Fear," he decided. "It's always been your motivating factor. I have to wonder if you wanted to be caught?" Though Clarence wanted to disagree he was quite unable to speak. He felt like the last eleven years of his life belonged to somebody else. At this moment he was fifteen again and nothing had changed. "So?" Grendal waved a hand, motioning for Clarence to tell him what had happened. There was a long pause, Clarence fretted over how much he could say without getting his friends involved and decided to change the dialogue.
"I don't want to be the High King."
The Steward's mouth twitched, "Well," he said. "That might be the first sensible thing you have ever said. It changes nothing. You will do it."
Clarence closed his eyes and continued his in-depth examination of the floor. His neck was starting to hurt.
"Perhaps you returned to be rid of me?"
"That wasn't my intention."
"I trained you better than this Clarence," Grendal snapped. "I trained you to anticipate other peoples moves, to see a trap before you walk headlong into it. You knew I wouldn't put your friend in a house in the middle of Salisbury City. You chose to come back."
Clarence bit the inside of his lip over and over until he tasted blood. Had he? For all his excuses and promises, was he just tired of running?
"This crown is your birthright. You, who have been so vocal for so long about the rights of Humans and the evils of your father's acts. You might tell yourself that you were caught and that your true intention was to rescue your friends and run into the sunset, happily ever after. I, however, know that you would rather take the crown than allow the Empire to suffer the chaos that would ensue should your aunt or her son take the throne." Grendal laughed, it wasn't a friendly one, "That same sense of right and wrong that made you so vocal against your father compelled you back here, regardless of your reluctance to come, you knew this was the right thing to do. What a shame for you that your uncle Robert and his children have not been found."
Clarence's eyes flicked up,
"They are presumed dead."
"If he is found I will step aside. I'll step aside for Freddie too." Clarence's voice sounded shamelessly desperate and Grendal's mouth twitched with amusement.
"No, you won't." The steward reached into a drawer and pulled out an official document. He took some time to read it before he set it down and looked at Clarence with a level, soul searching stare. "Like you, I have a preference in who sits on the throne and for all your faults I would rather work with you than that self-righteous, idiotic sack of gas that is your cousen Freddie Blackember. Luckily for me, I get to choose."
Clarence frowned, Grendal the Kingmaker. He wore the title well, he also felt the need to continue gloating. Grendal pointed to the window, "Have a look down into the courtyard."
Clarence got up, Beatrix was sitting in irons with three guards stationed around her. Her eyes were fixed on the study window but it didn't look like she could actually see in. He gritted his teeth as he studied her. How far could he get if he smashed the window and tried to jump from the tower to the grass? Grendal moved next to him and looked down. "Her treatment depends on your behaviour. You see that necklace? It's enchanted to explode should she try and run away from me. So, the choice is simple Clarence. You do what is expected, you take the crown, you play the king and you say 'Yes Grendal' and I will keep Beatrix in good conditions. A fire, a bed, books if she can read- but go against me and you know what will happen."
Clarence's face paled. "I know."
"Bobbin Granville sold you out, it's so easy to manipulate somebody who is full of good intentions and righteous dreams. He sees me as a figurehead of a self-made man and for some reason that, in his eyes, absolves me of any iniquity. You, for all your faults still believe that Humans should be given rights equal to a magical person, and, I am the second-born son of a country king who has risen to the position of High Steward of the Realm. In his mind, we are the pair who will usher in the new dawn- poor child." Grendal laughed, returned to the desk and flicked the corner of the document that sat between them. "He told my men everything- how you agonised over the idea of leaving Fred to his fate whilst you grew closer and closer to Beatrix Sung-Smith. How, for a large bag of gold and the chance of a Humanist on the throne, he would happily sell her to me so that I may have you." Grendals smile grew larger and he pushed the document towards Clarence.
"What is that?" he asked, motioning with a nod of his head to the paper in Grendal's hands, he felt like he was shaking, cold, though it was hot inside the room.
"Your father's Will."
Clarence reached out to take it, the Steward didn't let go until Clarence tugged it out of his hand. He pulled open the document and started to scan the lines. The bulk of the will spoke about the transition from old court to new in the event of Odwald, Clarence's older brother, inheriting. It spoke of the line of succession, Odwald, Clarence, Robert and Robert's children, his Aunt Elisa and her son Freddie. Then came the clauses, it was here that Clarence paused and reread, his blood ran cold.
"So you see, Prince Clarence, you hold the titles but I hold the reins. The will is very clear on that. Your father shared my concerns about your suitability and impaired judgement. I lead and you stay quiet. Don't threat! It's just what you really wanted. This Will just makes it legal."
Clarence ground his teeth.
Grendal gave his very best lopsided smile and rose from his chair and leaned over the desk. He patted Clarence on the side of the cheek. "But we both know you had no intention of running, regardless of a will or a girl in a dungeon, you would have come back eventually."
He left the room and as the door swung closed Clarence knew that Grendal was right. From the day Fred was captured he had wrestled his conscience. Since the age of ten, he had preached that his father had abused his power. He shunned the Court and its nepotism and he had turned his back on it because there was no way that he could ever change it. But Grendal was right, he still cared. He feared what would happen if his aunt and her son made a play for the throne, considering that the Leprechauns widely shunned them as murderers. Beatrix, all along, had been an excuse for him. An excuse to run, and excuse to be a hero and now an excuse to stay and take the throne. He loved her. He loved her more than he could describe, and that too was simply an excuse. He stood up and crossed to the window, the rooftop of the Leprechaun Complex fell away in a series of gardens, turrets and spires until it reached Stone Henge portal. "The King is dead," he whispered as he watched the guards leading Beatrix away in the courtyard below the window. "Long Live the King."