'A question. Is he local?'
Greg smiled. 'Aye. He designed that.' He gestured at the main east window. 'He calls it Flowing Sealight. Told me that glass isn't solid, that it stays liquid even while it's up there, that if you wait long enough it will flow down and pool at the bottom, like water.'
I looked again into the flood of light from the window, noting how the shape of the cross emerged at random from the arrangement of the fragments, how some of the panes were thicker than others, so that they refracted the light in all directions, into every corner. It really was a thing of beauty.
'He's got a real talent for it.'
'He's taken a liking to Shelley. Think she's a bit young for him, personally.'
'How old is he?'
'Hard to say. She's just a kid, though.'
'She'll grow.'
'Aye, she will now. Where did you go?'
'When?'
'When Shelley disappeared. We were searching the waterfront. There was that van. You ran down the harbour and then… where did you go?'
'I had a hunch.'
'I found the mirror, what was left of it. You weren't with it.'
I wanted to answer. I wanted to explain, but I couldn't find the words. Instead I just shrugged. 'What does Shelley say?'
'She says she went swimming. Says she got out of her depth, that she couldn't get out. The tide was too strong. Says she nearly drowned. Doesn't know how she made it out of the water.'
'I expect that's right, then.'
'Avesham says when he found her, she was near frozen to death.'
'Avesham?'
'The artist. Says he was out on the beach, watching the storm. Saw her on the shingle. Says it was destiny.'
'Does he?'
'Artists. They say things like that.' He paused, waiting for some comment or confirmation from me. 'Storm appeared out of nowhere.'
'That can happen,' I said.
'One of the boats was washed ashore. A lobster boat.'
'That can happen too.'
'Three men drowned. The boat was salvaged, but the men weren't on it. No lifebelts used, flares all accounted for.'
'It's a dangerous occupation. There's a book in the Maritime Museum, it's full of the names of good men.'
'Aye, it is.' There was another long pause. 'Helen came to see me.'
'That's good.'
'Brought the baby with her. Wants him christened in the church.'
'That's a lovely idea.'
'She said a man came to her in a dream and told her I wanted to know whether it was a boy or a girl. She described the man. He looked a lot like you.'
'It's probably better that we don't meet then, isn't it? That might freak her out a little.'
'Aye. Probably. Don't know whether her parents will come to the christening.'
'If they love their daughter then they'll come. It's not every day you become a grandparent.'
'And you, Neal. What about you? Did you find your story?'
'If there is a story, I am not sure where it begins or how it ends. Maybe I will write it, one day.'
'Some stories are better left untold.'
'I'm glad you see it that way.'
I offered him my hand and he took it. The pulse of power passed between us.
'Static,' I said. He smiled, wryly.
I left him in the church. He still had the task of taking bad news to the parents of Gillian and Trudy and I did not envy him that, but with the christening to look forward to, there might be some compensation.
I walked down to the High Street and bought a nice mirror from an antique shop, then took it to the Dolphin and presented it to Martha as a replacement for the one I had broken. She was full of reprimands until she unwrapped it, and then embarrassed that it was really rather better than the one it replaced. I collected my things and left, climbing past the church until I stood on the hill looking down on the town. Would it prosper now? Only time would tell.
Concealing myself, I turned to the Way-node and stepped forward, leaving the town far behind.
When I got back to the High Courts, Blackbird was going through her wardrobe, laying out the contents of her drawers and examining them all with a critical eye. She had amassed three piles – one for the charity shops, one to go back in the cupboards and a last one with an uncertain future.
'Do you think I'll ever wear this again? She held up a sundress with a blue floral design.
'I don't know. Do we have to decide right now?' I asked.
She surveyed the piles. 'You're right. I'll keep that one but not this one. This one goes, right?'
She held up a yellow sun-top that faded into orange.
'Whatever you think's best. I'd better go and see how Alex is getting on.'
I escaped into the hallway and met Tate as I walked through the house. He turned and fell into step with me.
'How's she doing?' I asked him.
'She's upsetting the stewards,' he said. 'Eating like a horse, and she's driving Fionh crazy. '
'I thought they'd get on OK.'
'It's a long time since Fionh was a teenager. She's been trying to teach Alex to use her magic in a more controlled fashion, but she has no attention span. They just get started and she wants to eat again, or drink, or take a shower.'
'She's only fifteen, Garvin.'
'That may be true, but in fey terms she's a woman. The Feyre consider that once you come into your power you are responsible for yourself, an adult.'
'She's not ready for adulthood.'
'She has power, she's of an age to bear children. Those are all the qualifications you need.'
'She'll need some time to adjust,' I insisted.
'Stop babying her, Niall. You're making it worse.'
We'd reached the suite which Alex and I had been assigned. Alex was reorganising it to her tastes, moving furniture while Fionh watched her from the sofa. I looked at Fionh. She shrugged.
'Sweetheart, what are you doing?' I called after Alex.
'Do you mind if you have my bedroom and I have yours?' she called, walking into another room. 'You won't be sleeping in there anyway, will you?'
Tate touched my arm. 'I'll see you later.' He made a strategic withdrawal.
'I'm not sure…' I said. 'We're not staying here, Alex. This is only temporary until we can find somewhere else.'
She came back in carrying a set of bedding. When she had gone into the room her hair had been dark. Now it was blonde. She tossed the bedding on to the other bed and went back for more.
'What's with the hair?' I asked Fionh.
'Oh, that. I showed her glamour and she hasn't managed to be stable for more than two minutes since. Her mind's a butterfly. She can't concentrate on anything. One moment she's a redhead, then a blonde, five minutes ago she had long hair, now it's short.'
She appeared in the doorway. 'You need to take me shopping,' she said. Her hair was jet-black.
'There'll be time for that later.'
