hand became more difficult to read until it was passed to a smaller, neater hand that wrote in precise rows of near identical characters that were more difficult to decipher than the hand that had preceded it.
The First World War was the same. There was no indication of the carnage going on in Flanders, just entries for each year, notes of visiting dignitaries and acknowledgement of the service and the number.
Claire stood up and went to the door. 'I'll be just a moment,' she said, unsure about leaving us alone with the book. 'I have something else to show you.'
She slipped out of the room, leaving Blackbird and I to leaf through the faded pages.
'It's like a heartbeat,' I commented, more to myself than to Blackbird.
'This is it, Rabbit. This is the ritual. Don't you see?' Despite her calm outward appearance, I realised from her tone of voice that she was excited.
'The City of London isn't the same as London, the city. It has defined boundaries, its own Mayor, a corporation to manage its affairs and it is founded on the one thing humanity will protect to the end: wealth. What did the leaflet say? This is the oldest legal ceremony in England other than the coronation. Here you have the link between the kings of thirteenth century England and the legal system that preserved the existence of the monarchy into the present day.'
'It's not perfect protection, though, is it?' I remarked. 'The French overthrew their monarchy and founded a republic. We had periods where the position of the king or queen was very precarious. Anything could have happened.'
'But it didn't, did it? Even Cromwell didn't succeed in removing the monarchy permanently. Maybe there was more than one reason for restoring the monarch to the throne.'
'I don't think there's any way of…What's that?'
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and before I realised it I was upright. Blackbird stood, her chin coming up, almost as if she was almost scenting the air. Tension built in the room like the moment before a lightning strike and I found myself backing away from the doorway.
'I thought you might like to see this. It's not really… Is something wrong?' Claire entered through the half open door carrying a small bundle. Wrapped in a soft black cloth, I could see heat-haze writhing off it like poisonous dark fumes. Blackbird backed away with an expression of tight distaste on her face. I couldn't get enough oxygen. The presence of the object was suffocating.
'What is it?' Blackbird asked.
'It's the Quick Knife,' Claire said. 'And I'm afraid it's broken.'
FIFTEEN
Claire stepped forward and laid the broken Quick Knife on the desk and folded back the cloth.
It was difficult for me to see the knife clearly for the haze around it, but there were clearly two pieces to it. I backed further away and I could see Blackbird was having trouble maintaining her composure.
Claire looked up from the table at us, curious at first while a slow understanding grew in her eyes. She looked again at the knife and then back at us. There was a tense silence as she considered our reaction. I think Blackbird was trying to act normally, though she was failing. I wasn't even trying.
'You're from the other courts, aren't you?' Claire spoke quietly and it wasn't a question. She stepped back and pushed the door closed behind her. I wished she hadn't.
'Other courts?' Blackbird simply repeated the phrase.
'One minute. I need to get the box.'
Claire opened the door again and stepped out, closing the door behind her, but leaving the knife unwrapped on the desk. I considered edging around the room and running out of the building. I glanced at Blackbird who clearly had the same thought.
The door opened and Claire entered carrying a dark wooden box. She placed it onto the table and opened it, then rewrapped the knife in the soft dark cloth and placed it into the open box alongside a similar knife that gleamed with a dull sheen. As she closed the lid, the tension in the room evaporated. Blackbird and I visibly relaxed.
'Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?' Claire said in a slightly brittle manner, turning to lean on the edge of the desk, regarding each of us in turn.
Neither of us spoke. It was clear that Claire knew more about this than we had thought, but what she knew and why was still an open question.
'I think it would be a good idea if we had some tea, don't you? Yes, that's probably the thing. Please, make yourselves comfortable again. I apologise for the disturbance. It never crossed my mind.' She went back to the door, turning back, almost as if she were checking we were still there. 'Give me a few moments.'
We were left alone again, though the door had been left ajar.
'What is that?' I asked Blackbird.
'She called it the Quick Knife. It may be a corruption of Quit Knife, for the ceremony, do you think?'
'I have no idea, and I don't really care. Are we leaving?'
'No, this is important. She clearly knows more about this than we imagined. If we leave now we may miss something.'
'I won't miss the contents of that box. Did you see it?'
'I've never seen anything like it. It must be part of the ceremony. Didn't the leaflet mention a pair of knives?' She delved into her coat to retrieve the leaflet. 'Here it is. 'Two knives, one blunt and one sharp.' Which one do you think that was?'
'I don't know, I couldn't see through the haze around it.'
'Haze?'
'Like fumes, coming off it, distorting the air around it. You couldn't see them?'
'No, but I could feel them.'
'It's dangerous, Blackbird. That's not a ceremonial blade. It's intended for something much darker.'
'That's the point, though, isn't it? We're looking for something much darker.'
The door pushed open and we both lapsed into silence as Claire entered with a tray loaded with a teapot, milk, sugar and even a plate of biscuits.
'Would you mind moving the journal, please? I must apologise for my thoughtlessness earlier. It never occurred to me that you were, well, like that.'
'Like what?' Blackbird moved the journal across the desk away from the tea and the dark wooden box.
'From the other courts. I think 'Fey' is the proper term, is it not?' She put down the hot teapot and set about arranging cups and saucers, not meeting Blackbird's intense scrutiny.
'It is,' I answered, winning a sharp look from Blackbird, but my curiosity at her use of that particular word was too strong to let it go. Besides, I wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know.
She gestured to Blackbird to take a seat, and we both looked at the box containing the knife.
'I could move it to the sideboard if you would be more comfortable?' she offered.
'It would make things easier,' Blackbird responded.
She picked up the box and was then caught as she made to move towards me and I backed away. Just the thought of what was in the box was enough to make me stay clear of it. She smiled an apology and turned the other way to discover a worried look on Blackbird's face. She was made of sterner stuff, however, because she smiled a nervous acknowledgement and moved around towards the door, allowing Claire to get past and place the box on a small table near the leaded window where the dark wood of the box was set against the warmer tones of polished chestnut beneath it.
'There, that might be better. Shall we have tea now?' Her version of a disarming smile had a fragile quality to it and I wondered just how confident about this she really was.
'That would be kind,' Blackbird agreed and we moved to sit around the desk, Claire at one end of the desk and Blackbird and I at the other. She poured out three measured cups and added milk in precise quantities, making me wonder how often she performed this small ritual.
'It would be helpful if you could show me some credentials?' she suggested, handing each of us a cup and
