The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(7)
“You want to drive the kingdom deeper into debt to those filthy pit-breeders?” interrupted the other. He had a weaselly, angular face. “I’d almost rather see the stinking swarts keep robbing us blind than hand it over willingly to the ruddy longbeards.”
“Leave us.” The voice came from behind us. It was deep and firm.
There was no doubt in my mind, as I turned to see who had spoken, that I was now in the presence of royalty. Although Jackaby was taller, Lord Arawn seemed to tower over everyone in the room. His regal stature suggested that at any moment an artist might pop out from behind a pillar to finish up an oil painting of him. His features were graceful, but his frame was sturdier than those of his subjects, and his jawline was harder. His flaxen hair was topped with a polished bronze circlet, and around his shoulders was draped a cloak of deep, velvety purple clasped with a golden pendant engraved with a sunburst.
“My liege.” Serif knelt. “The Seer begs an audience.”
“Thank you, General,” Arawn said. “I am aware. Please escort Ampersand and Kern to the aldermen’s hall. They can conclude their discussion without me.” The pair at the table had ceased their bickering and were already hastily packing up their papers. Serif bowed low.
“Captain.” The king turned to Virgule as Serif and the others filed out. “You may oversee the veil-gate.”
“Yes, my liege,” said Virgule, positioning himself ceremonially beside the portal.
“From within the fairy ring, if you please,” Arawn amended with a practiced calm.
“Yes, my liege.” Virgule nodded and then stepped back through the glowing doorway into the grove in Seeley’s Square. Behind him, the portal shimmered and then vanished with a faint pop like a soap bubble.
Jackaby and I found ourselves alone with Lord Arawn. The fire crackled away.
“Well,” Jackaby said. “You and I have different taste in decor, but I can’t argue with the entryway—a door like that gives quite the first impression. Nowhere to hang a knocker, though. Or a horseshoe.”
“In a thousand years,” Lord Arawn said, “that veil-gate has never been opened for a human. You may be the first mortals to ever cross through it.”
“It is quite an honor, sir,” I said. “Er—your majesty. It’s quite an honor, your majesty, sir.” I immediately wished I had remained silent.
“And what is she?” Arawn regarded me with detached amusement.
“She is my associate,” Jackaby answered. “And she is generally quite sharp. Usually. Sometimes. She’ll surprise you from time to time.”
“I’m sure she will,” said Arawn. “You humans never do exactly what one expects. I kept one in my castle for an entire year once.”
“A human?”
“Yes. I let him wear my glamour and everything. He left to go be a prince of some petty kingdom in the end. A shame. I rather liked him.”
“We’re here on rather urgent business, I’m afraid.”
“So I understand.” Arawn sauntered toward the dais at the end of the room. “You have concerns about the old Dire Council?”
Jackaby nodded. “More than concerns. The council has risen again. They’re active. My associates and I have managed to incapacitate a vampire and to nick a nixie at the heart of their ranks, but the Dire King remains at large, planning his next murderous maneuver.”
Arawn turned lazily as he reached his throne. “Such an excitable species, you humans. So rash. There is no Dire King lurking out there.”
“There is,” I said. “I’ve seen him.”
Arawn’s eyes fixed on me as he slid into his chair. “Have you?”
I screwed up my confidence. “I’ve seen his eyes,” I said, “glowing red in the darkness. He said that the age of man has ended, and that he is tired of waiting. He intends to destroy the barrier between the earth and the Annwyn and rule over whatever is left as king of both realms.”
Unimpressed, Arawn reached a hand down and absently stroked one of his snowy white hounds between its crimson ears. “At any moment, there are almost certain to be a dozen scurrilous seditionists who intend to destroy my barrier, a hundred who intend to usurp my throne, a thousand who intend to see the age of man come crumbling to an end. Let the rabble continue to amuse themselves with their idle intentions.”
“It’s only an idle intention until it becomes a reality,” said Jackaby.
Arawn rolled his eyes. “It is an absurd fantasy.”
Said the fairy king to a traveler with magic beans in his pockets, I thought, but I kept the observation to myself.
“You’re being a fool.” Jackaby took a step toward the dais. The twin hounds raised their milky white heads and their eyes narrowed. “Your veil is not impervious. Unseelie creatures have already slipped through the cracks—as I’m sure you’re well aware. Innocent people are dying while you reassure yourself you’re in control!” The hounds began to growl, and Jackaby drew to a stop, just a few paces from the king. “I’m at the heart of this now, whether you help me or not. More people will die. People I care about will die. Don’t let your ego blind you. Don’t wait for the veil to fall and for people you care about to start dying before you take this seriously.”