Hellblazer 2 - Subterranean (26 page)

“That’s for
your
jewels, guv! You got your bag-of-gem’s worth off me just now, and something to remember me by!”

So saying, Geoff turned and simply bolted, tucking the gems away in his coat as he went.

And almost ran headlong into the King.

“What’s this?” King Culley exclaimed, as his guards rushed to stand between him and the skidding youth. “Where do you run from, boy?”

Come to a stop, Geoff was panting, looking from the King to the guards. The King was already late middle-aged at this time of his day, his face gone jowly, his eyes now edged with crow’s feet, his hair and beard going gray, his hands showing age spots and a tremor.

But the King seemed amused to see Spurlick come shambling up, still clutching his groin. “Ho ho! I begin to see! You were fleeing Lord Spurlick, yes? He has made unwelcome advances, has he?”

“Your Majesty!” Spurlick said, bowing, and wincing as he did so. “This boy has struck me a vicious blow and robbed me! He has taken a bag of gems from me! It is a breach of Your Majesty’s peace! I humbly request to be able to execute him personally, using the blunt, rusted sword traditional in the instances of terrible crime!” And he bowed again, this time with a courtly flourish.

“Blunt sword!” Geoff burst out. “Lord King, this bastard was trying to buy me with them gems and then he was fondling me up and down! I took the gems as a fee for fondling I never said he could have!”

The King chortled. “Ho, that sounds like the truer story, knowing you, Spurlick! Now sir, the boy has been paid for your fumblings, and you have been paid for your presumption! And I am pleased to have some amusement at a time of day when all seems bleak and dire! I decree that the boy shall keep the gems, and shall be held blameless. And if you object, Spurlick, you will indeed have access to the traditional blunt and rusty sword, but not as you had planned!”

Spurlick made a guttural sound, ground his teeth together, and then forced a smile and a very low bow. “I live to provide amusement for His Majesty. I can only thank my lucky ceiling lichen that I have been able to provide that amusement.”

“Do I detect bitter irony in that pleasantry, Spurlick?” the King demanded, his eyes growing cold.

“Not at all sire! I am utterly sincere!”

“The only thing that is entire about you, Spurlick, is your insincerity . . . but as you are sometimes useful I will let it pass.”

The King proceeded on his way, the guards tramping along behind, weapons rattling. Geoff turned to go, but not before hearing Spurlick mutter, “I will see to your downfall personally, boy. You may rest assured of that.”

Geoff walked away, toward the servants’ quarters to look for Constantine. But when he’d got to the door to the servants’ hall, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw Spurlick still watching him. And smiling wickedly.

13

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN . . . TILL THIS AFTERNOON. LATEST

“B
e thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,”
sang Maureen, sewing up a tear in one of the queen’s gowns.
“Naught be all else to me save that thou art, thou my best thought by day or by night, waking or sleeping thy presence, my light . . .”

“ ‘O Lord of my heart’!” the King said, coming in, clapping his hands softly, beaming at her. “What a lovely sentiment, and what a lovely voice!”

“Oh, it’s just an old Irish folk song, Your Majesty.”

“Is it now? But do not think its meaning has eluded me, my lovely rusty-haired lady!”

“Its . . .
meaning,
Your Majesty?” she asked, looking nervously at the four guards who were there with him.

“Lord of my heart? Who else could it be but me! And of course I have been admiring you as well. But it was when I heard you sing that my mind—nay, my heart!—that my heart was made up!”

“What’s this all about?” Megan asked, coining into the sitting room. “Your heart was all what?”

The King’s face fell, seeing the queen. His eyes became flinty.

“You, lady, are under house arrest, until I have had a chance to declare our marriage annulled.”

“What?” At first she looked dismayed; then a thought brought a flicker of hope to her eyes. “So, I can go home? If I’m not married anymore I can go back to Beverly Hills?”

“I fear not. I have a use for you, as you will see. You annoyed me last night. You’re sickly and vulgar and I want you gone.”

“And you’ll marry this woman? She’s older them me!”

“Yes, normally I would prefer someone younger, but she has charmed me. Besides, there is magical value to being married to a fairy!”

Maureen must have looked startled, for he continued. “Oh yes, Lady Maureen, Spurlick has been following, and listening, and has reported to me that you are the boy’s mother and therefore of fairy blood! Thin the blood may be, but if your son bears the mark then the power is in it! I will have a great many uses for you, but first . . . the wedding night!”

The former queen turned to Maureen, her eyes full of tears. “You bitch! Don’t you know what’ll happen to me? What’d you do to get him all . . . all . . .”

“I didn’t do anything, Your Majesty!”

“No need to call her ‘Your Majesty’ after this,” said the King, yawning. “As for what you did, you sang! That beautiful voice, that meaningful song, and the fact of your ancestry . . . you are my destiny! For a time. And now . . .” He turned to the guards. “Take the queen to the Place of Bleak Pondering and lock her in. Give her a little water, that will be enough.”

“No!” Megan shouted, turning to run. But the guards rushed to her without hesitation—she was not the first queen handled thus—and dragged her out of the room, sobbing.

“Oh no,” Maureen said, her eyes filling with tears. “Poor Megan . . .”

“Yes, yes, poor Megan. Now, pretty yourself up. I will come later to arrange the ceremony; we will be married this very day!”

And the King turned on his heels and strode out, leaving Maureen simmering in a welter of emotion.

~

“How
long did you say it’s been?” Constantine asked Maureen, aghast. He had come in to the servants’ quarters to find her sitting dejectedly on the cot and it didn’t occur to him at first, with his head still throbbing, to ask what was troubling her. Being a prisoner far underground was, after all, reason enough to be troubled.

“You’ve been gone at least twenty hours,” Maureen said, her voice betraying no reproach. “Maybe more.”

“Oh Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and St. Paddy,” Constantine said, sinking onto a cot, head in his hands.

I’m not worth the bog paper it takes to wipe me away,
he thought.
The time’s melting, nearly gone. Chas is fucked—Britain is fucked unless I can stop the bastard. It was all up to me and I dealt with it by getting pissed again.

“I wish I had some tea to offer you,” Maureen said, her voice hoarse, “but I’ve found a place to do a little cooking, and I’m told this lichen tea is rather like. It feels like it has caffeine in it.”

She went to the cooking niche and returned with a crude clay-fired cup of the brew and he made himself drink it down. It was bitter, but it did seem to clear his head a little. Feeling angry at himself and along with that, inevitably, sorry for himself, would do no good. He sat up straighter, took a deep breath, and said, “Right. We’ve got to have a plan. We need to enlist the queen.”

Maureen shook her head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. She’s confined to her quarters. And Geoff heard that Lord Blung say she was going to ‘join the other queens!’ ”

“Long live the queen,” Constantine muttered to himself. “Till this afternoon, latest, if I know that bastard Culley. He changes them more often than Chas changes tires on his cab.” He looked at Maureen. “Who’s the new sacrificial lamb, then?”

She rubbed tears away with the heel of her hand. “I’m afraid . . . it’s me.”

“What!”

Geoff came in then, with Fallesco. “I’ve found this rascal wandering about, looking for his friend,” Fallesco said. “I believe Spurlick was following him. Lord Spurlick can be quite skilled at not being seen when he chooses to. You’d best keep the boy here.”

“But where is Bosky?” his mother asked.

“Couldn’t find him,” Geoff said. “They’ve got him locked away somewhere, Mrs.”

“Locked away!”

Fallesco sighed. “The King has learned of his fairy blood. He’s to be kept prisoner and bled for its magical properties, a little at a time.”

His mother put a hand over her mouth, horrified. “Oh God. He’s going to bleed my boy dry!”

“No, Maureen, he ain’t,” Constantine assured her. “Wait—Fallesco, best check to see if Spurlick’s out there.”

Fallesco went outside their rooms and indeed found Spurlick lurking in the hall, trying to hear something he could use against them. Constantine, coming to the doorway, heard their confrontation.

“Spurlick, you have offended me,” Fallesco said. “This lurking at my back implies you think I’m up to no good!”

“What? Oh nonsense, I was merely, ah, that is—”

“Spurlick, as is my right, I now issue an oath-challenge! I challenge you to mortal combat, sword against sword, pike against pike, for the entertainment of the court! I hold my left hand in the air and call the world as my witness, and I hereby—”

“Wait! No need for haste! I apologize, and I will withdraw!”

Fallesco and Constantine watched as Spurlick scuttled down the hallway and was gone. They waited to be sure and then returned to the servants’ quarters; Constantine looked curiously at Fallesco. “Now you’ve made Spurlick your enemy too, Fallesco. Just wondering, mate, what’s spurrin’ you on to risk what you’ve risked: death, or a right-nasty living-death. You could cruise along at your orgies till you fall over dead from drink . . .”

Fallesco sniffed contemptuously at the word
orgies.
“I only indulge in that foolishness so that I will be there to listen! People talk more freely in their cups. I know where the bodies are buried, so to speak, Master Magus. As for what spurs me, one moment.” He checked, once more, to see that no one was listening at the door, before returning, closing the door carefully behind him, to continue: “It is simple; I wish to escape the Underlands. True, I was born here, but I have always wandered as far as I might in the Underlands, in the realm of the Sunless and beyond it. I have learned as much as I could. I am, you know, also the King’s librarian, and when I read of the surface world, I long to see it, to be part of it. But Culley will not allow me to go to the surface to fetch books; this is done through surface intermediaries, lately the associates of the unfortunate MacCrawley. It is they, also, who deliver the King’s wives to him, in exchange for gems . . . and certain magical favors. Those of us who were born below, stay below. Mine is the heart of a poet, sir! My spirit longs to soar through the blue sky of the surface world! So long as the King commands this realm, I am a prisoner here. He knows of my longing to be away, and his shadow watchers, his harpies, his Il-Sorg, his gripplers, all know I am not to be allowed to escape.”

“Right,” Constantine said. “Then let’s give you your chance to bust out. And Maureen”—his voice became subtly tender when he turned to her—“the King won’t bleed your boy dry; we’re going to bleed the King dry. And we’re going to get your son out of the lockup. We’ve got to put a stopper to the King’s plans and get ourselves out from underground. I think I’ve got it worked out, but we’ve got to move fast. There’s a great big bloody job to do and not much time for it. Fallesco, can you contact Scofield for me? He’s going to have to meet with a troll.”

“A troll! If the King finds out he’ll regard it as treason.”

“Aye. And so it is, the best sort of treason. Treason against a bloody damned tyrant! I also need for you to find out where MacCrawley is being kept. If he’s still alive, I’m going to need him too.”

“What!” Geoff couldn’t believe his ears. “MacCrawley! He wanted you dead, mate!”

“Oh I know; he wanted me brought here and probably put to work right where he is now. A job that’ll kill a man, sure. But I’m going to need him if what I suspect is true—if it’s Fludd’s Spell of Dire Containment we’ve got to crack—and I’ll have to make use of him without turning me back. I’ll just wait for him to turn his.”

“Anything to get us out of this bloody place,” Geoff declared, shrugging.

“Now, the King’s strengths are ritual magic and alchemy, but he has a contempt for folk magic, and the bastard despises the elder spirits of the world. So I reckon we can con him when it comes to folk magic. Maureen, can you go along with the wedding night, up to a point?”

“I can do whatever’s necessary, John,” she said simply. Implying, without stating it, that she was willing to give herself entirely to the King if she had to, if that’s what it took to save them all.

“We’ll try to see that what’s necessary is as little as can be,” Constantine said, inwardly tensing at the thought of the King touching Maureen intimately. No one should touch her intimately, come to that. Except . . .

“There is a certain sleeping potion I keep about me,” Fallesco said, taking a small vial from an inside pocket. “Many times it has subdued those who would have cut my throat otherwise. Take it and slip it to the King in the privacy of your wedding night, Maureen, so that he loses consciousness before he can force himself on you. But he is no fool, and when he wakes, he will know he was drugged and his vengeance will be terrible. Unless . . .”

Fallesco broke off, then went to the door, looked out a third time, checking once more for eavesdroppers, before returning and going on, “Unless the King never wakes. I see a straight razor on yon table . . .”

“I might be able to do it,” Maureen said, pulling a face. “But there’s the problem of that magic bed of his. The queen’s told me some creature lives in it, who watches them as they . . . watches them in bed. And the creature won’t allow any attack on the King, or anything taken from his person. The King trapped it there to protect him.”

“Trapped it, did he?” Constantine said. “Interesting. That suggests . . .”

“The creature might be neutralized somehow,” Fallesco said, stroking his beard. “How, I don’t know. That would be more Constantine’s purview. But if it could be done, you might well be free to dispatch the King. A blessed turn of events; I live for the day the King Underneath lives no more!”