The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(25)

Coby hardly slept that night, so sick she was with fear of what might happen to Mal. A storm could pound Raleigh's ship onto the cruel rocks of the Normandy coast, or blow them westwards into the endless ocean. Barbary corsairs could capture them and sell them into slavery. She tried to cheer herself up by imagining leading a rescue party, but it was one thing to venture into Middlesex, barely a dozen miles from home, and quite another to brave two thousand miles of ocean and the unknown perils of Moorish Africa.

When dawn finally came, she gave up on sleep and took herself down to the kitchen, though she had little stomach for breakfast. She hoped Sandy would find some occupation around the house today so that she could get on with her mission. Mal had left her plenty of money for the journey back to Provence, so she easily had enough for a secondhand gown plus some new linen to make head-coverings. Sandy however had other plans. As soon as they had eaten, he put on his cloak and hat and strode out of the back door without a word.

"Where are you going?" The cinder path crunched under her feet as she hurried after him with her own hastily snatched-up cloak over her arm.

"I wish to see London," Sandy replied.
He paused to open the garden gate, giving her a chance to catch up with him.

"All right, but I'm coming with you." Mal would never forgive her if Sandy got lost or hurt.

They walked side by side towards London Bridge, their breath frosting in the air.

"You have been to Whitehall Palace?" he asked, as they passed the church of St Mary Overie.

"Once or twice," she replied, instantly wary.

"Then you can take me there?"

"Why do you want to go to the palace?"

He smiled down at her. "To see an old friend."

"Very well." They were almost at the bridge, so they might as well go that way and save on the wherry fare.

As they walked, Coby racked her memory. Whom at Court could Sandy possibly call a friend? Until he had been abducted by Suffolk's hirelings, he had been locked up in Bedlam, for several years at least. Before that… Mal had said he was too ill to attend university, so he couldn't have made friends that way. And after they rescued him from Suffolk, he went straight into Ambassador Kiiren's care. The only Englishmen he had met outside Bedlam were his captors: the late duke, his henchmen, and… oh no.

She halted abruptly, earning muttered curses from other pedestrians. Sandy walked on a few more paces before realising he had left her behind.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You're going to see Blaise Grey?"

"Yes."

"But… His father wanted to kill you. And he tortured your brother."

Sandy's expression hardened. "He knows a great deal more than he guesses. I have need of that knowledge." He set off again down the Strand.

"What knowledge?" Coby asked, catching up with him.
"Knowledge I have sought for many years. Or so I hope."
Coby did not enquire further. It was bad enough when Mal spoke of dreams and portents, but his brother acted as though being possessed by a skrayling was the most normal thing in the world. They walked in silence the rest of the way, giving Coby plenty of time to mull over all the unpleasant possibilities ahead of them. She prayed their quarry would be away from Court, preferably far, far away where even a madman would not seek him out. Having inherited his father's considerable estates, the young duke could be anywhere in the kingdom.

As they approached the eastern gate of the palace, Sandy murmured, "I think it would be wise for me to pretend to be my brother, at least until we find Grey."

"And if I refuse to go along with this charade?" she replied in the same quiet tone. "I am his servant, not yours."

"Do as you wish. But I am going to the palace."

She sighed and fell into step at his heels, slipping into the familiar role of silent, unregarded manservant. Sandy gave their names and business at the gate, and they were waved through by a guard.

"Where now?" Sandy asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Mal sometimes reported to Sir Francis Walsingham at his office, but that's the last place you want to go if you don't wish to be caught masquerading. Ask a porter."

To her dismay they were told that the duke was indeed present at Court, though he was at a meeting of the Privy Council all day.

"Then we shall wait," Sandy said.

"All day?"

"You have something else to do?"

She considered telling him about her mission, but decided that the less he knew, the better. The thought of wearing women's clothes again, of going out in the streets to visit Lady Frances, terrified her enough; facing her friends in such garb was a prospect that turned her bowels to water.

"I hear there are bowling alleys," she said. "We could go and watch a game for a while."

Sandy agreed, and they headed into the maze of palace buildings. More than the game itself, such a gathering was a good place to observe the undercurrents of court politics. There might even be some more accurate intelligence to be gleaned regarding Lady Frances and the duke.

Their forward progress was interrupted, however, by a great mass of people crowding the hall they were trying to cross. Coby was all for back-tracking and finding another route, but then a trumpet sounded and cries of "Make way for His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales" rang out. The crowd parted, the nearer half pushing Coby and Sandy back towards the wall, where they were trapped in an alcove against a suit of rusting armour. Coby could see little over the heads of the crowd, so she boosted herself upwards using the plinth of the armour-stand and the nearby wall.