then went for things that are worthless.'
'They are only worthless to someone who does not value them,' said Gregor.
'And you would?' asked Blackbird.
'Perhaps. A key and a feather are both potent symbols. A key is for opening, and as a symbol of secrets — things locked away. A feather is also a symbol. The Egyptians believed that the feather represented truth, and that in the afterlife their hearts would be weighed by their gods against a feather of Maat.'
'Maat?' I asked.
'The essence of truth, usually represented by an ostrich feather.'
'This was a the tail feather of a raven, not an ostrich,' Blackbird pointed out.
'But the symbology may transfer,' said Gregor. 'Symbols are all about the power you invest in them. They could have taken a feather from an old hat, and it would still be a feather, but because there was nothing invested in it, it would have little power.'
'So the fact that this feather was stolen from the Tower of London gives it power?'
'In a sense, yes, perhaps.'
'So what is it for, Gregor? Why do they need a feather and a key?'
Gregor rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. 'I do not know,' he said finally. 'I am not aware of any rituals that would use just those symbols. They are too ambiguous — too loose, do you see?'
'I'm not sure I do,' said Blackbird.
'Most magic is the art of converting something you don't want into something you do,' he explained.
'Like alchemy,' I suggested, 'transforming lead into gold.'
'A simple matter. You sell the lead to someone who needs it and they give you money, which you turn into gold.'
'That's cheating,' I said.
'Is it? Or is it simply using a path which people who do not think do not see? Much of magic is like that — trading one thing for another.'
'You make it sound ordinary,' I said.
'True magic, though, is very much rarer. In true magic you extend the bounds of the universe to include the infinite, where limits become meaningless and therefore exchanging one thing for another becomes like getting something for nothing. You can appear to get more out than you put in, like my wave energy demonstrator. If I am right, it is drawing power from the universe itself, and therefore exhibits a resource which is, for our purposes, limitless.'
'So is it science or magic?' I asked.
'A great question,' said Gregor. 'You must tell me when you have the answer. A feather and a key? They have no unifying symbology, no theme to draw upon. They do not in themselves define the boundaries of anything.'
'You're saying they are insufficient in themselves?' said Blackbird.
'Indeed I am, Veronica. Much of logical deduction is not knowing the answers, but knowing the right question.'
'What's the right question?' I asked her.
She grinned at Gregor. 'What else have they taken?' 'Correct,' he said.
FIFTEEN
The market was near closing time. My visit to Gregor with Blackbird had delayed me and I had almost forgotten my invitation to meet Andy the honey-seller at the cafe. It was an outside chance that he'd appear, but having made the offer I felt honour-bound to at least turn up.
I sat in the cafe window, watching the market traders beginning to pack up their wares and close down their stalls. The idea of using someone to set up some sort of bridging arrangement with the fey courts appealed to me, but it needed someone the inmates would trust to front it. Andy had the potential, but I had to find him before I could pitch it to him. I'd been here for an hour, but there was no sign of him.
The trader I'd left the coat with said he still had the coat under the counter, so Andy hadn't been and gone without seeing me. Of course, it was possible that I had scared him off — having been arrested and carted off to Porton Down can't have done a lot for his trust for authority. He might have decided to abandon coat and money, cut his losses and run, but I thought not. He'd been arrested here in the first place. He'd returned here after the escape. Something was bringing him back, and I was hoping he would show himself sooner or later.
I had to admit, though, it didn't look like it was going to be today. Maybe if I came back tomorrow I would have more luck. I thanked the waitress who cleared my cup away and headed out into the market. I stopped at one of the stalls selling fruit. The stallholder was bemoaning the figs he had for sale, saying they were too ripe to hold onto and he was going to have to chuck them out the next day if someone didn't buy them. I hesitated, wondering if Blackbird liked figs.
That was when the half-seen figure crossed my vision. It wasn't that I recognised him, but that I didn't really see him. When I turned to look there was no one there. He was using glamour to conceal himself.
I left the fruit-seller and walked swiftly to a parallel row, following along with the path I'd vaguely seen from the corner of my eye, trying to catch a glimpse of shadows that shouldn't be there or places where I had the sudden urge to look away.
I tracked back towards the stall where his coat was, being careful to keep out of view. I circled around, keeping stalls between me and the path he was likely to take, and came out near where I had left his coat. Andy was talking to the owner of a stall selling Caribbean foods with his back to me. The owner pointed to the stallholder with the coat. He thanked the guy and walked over to the stall, taking my bait.
I waited out of sight until he was talking to the stallholder. The coat was produced and he grinned, clearly pleased to have it back. He slipped into it, shrugging it onto his shoulders and patting the pockets. He pulled out the money I'd secreted and hefted it, making some remark to the stallholder. I edged forward, waiting for him to read the note I'd left with the money. As I did, the stallholder lifted up the rucksack and then noticed me, pointing me out to Andy.
Andy's reaction was immediate. He sprinted for the aisle, knocking over a tray of apples in the process, scattering them across the concrete. The stallholder shouted after him, gesturing after him as he raced away.
I was already moving after him, heading down a parallel row of stalls, catching glimpses of the flying coat as he ran ahead of me. He turned into the side street, heading back where he went before. I accelerated, figuring he was going for the same exit. As I tuned into the back street he was running ahead of me, coat flying out behind him. He didn't even look back, he skidded into the blind alley.
I slowed to a halt at the mouth of the alley. A little way in the coat was sprawled across the floor, abandoned. The bag of money was discarded too, thrown against some of the bin bags further in. Of Andy there was no sign. I drew my sword and edged into the alley, scanning the walls and the high roof, looking for an outline that didn't fit. I'd been only seconds behind him. Unless he could fly or run up sheer walls he had to be here somewhere.
'Andy? Come on out. I won't hurt you. I want to talk to you.'
There was no reply. After a few moments I summoned up the courage to explore deeper, finding only old bin bags and rotting vegetables. I turned around in the alley, looking for hand-holds and climbing places. There was no obvious route upwards, but he'd used this alley twice now. Was there some means of escape that I was missing? I rattled the thin windows and checked the roller shutter again. Did he have some way of opening and closing it quickly and quietly?
I put my sword away and placed may hand on it, willing it to open. The cold metal was unresponsive, and when I tried to lift it, it clacked noisily but wouldn't budge. It left a finger-width gap, but that was all.
Turning slowly, I looked for trapdoors or drain-covers that might hide an exit underground, kicking aside bin bags to see what was underneath, but there were none. Walking slowly back along the alley I picked up the coat and the money. I hefted the money as he had done.
This clearly had value to him, he'd been pleased to receive it back. So why abandon it? The same with the coat, it was bulky, yes, but why leave it behind? I was beginning to think he was sprouting wings and flying away
