Tom drew himself up; the faintest tremor ran through his body, but his face was a mask of calmness. Veitch moved in next to him, tight with apprehension.
Five figures were approaching, all of them wearing outlandish clothes which mixed golden armour and red silk, topped by unusual helmets like enormous sea shells.
'The Queen's guard,' Tom noted. 'Out hunting for entertainment.'
Veitch took his lead from Tom, although his instinct was to hide. He watched as the guard progressed down the street, glancing into alleyways and side streets, shining their terrible regard into windows.
When they first clapped eyes on Tom and Veitch, sly smiles spread across their faces and they picked up their step as if they expected their quarry to flee for their lives. As they neared, their expressions became even more triumphal with recognition.
'True Thomas!' the leader of the guard exclaimed; there was a dark glee in his words, a contemptuous sneer shaping his mouth.
'Melliflor,' Tom said in greeting, giving nothing away.
'Why, we thought you had gone from our doors for all time, True Thomas!' Melliflor smiled with barely disguised mockery. 'The many wonders of the Court of the Yearning Heart are hard to resist, are they not? It calls to you always, even when you do not want to hear. Or,' he mused, 'is it your mistress who has brought you back? Our Lady of Light would be overjoyed to see you, True Thomas.'
Two of the guards had moved behind Veitch and Tom, to prevent any retreat. Veitch watched them suspiciously from the corner of his eye.
'Then take me to her, Melliflor,' Tom said. 'It will be good to see my Queen again after so long.'
Melliflor made an exaggerated sweeping gesture with his right hand to allow Tom to lead the way. After a few steps he arrived by Tom's side; Veitch might as well not have been there.
'May I enquire why you have returned to our doorstep?' Melliflor asked artfully.
'To renew acquaintances, Melliflor.'
'I hear you played a significant part in our return to the solid lands. I am sure our Queen will wish to offer her gratitude in her usual way.'
'Lead on, Melliflor. I have come far these last few days and I am too weary for conversation.'
Melliflor's sneering smile suggested he knew the meaning behind Tom's words; Veitch could quite easily have loosed the crossbow at him there and then.
They moved silently at a fast pace through the deserted streets, crossing Ness Bridge with the water rolling silently beneath, then along Glenurquhart Road, past suburban houses all deserted; some were merely burnt-out shells. Tomna- hurich Cemetery loomed up suddenly, the white ghosts of stones gleaming. Melliflor led them past the neatly tended plots to a road running up a hill which looked strangely unnatural on the flat valley bottom. It soared steeply, cloaked in a thick swathe of trees: yews, oaks, holly, pine, sycamore, all interspersed with thick clumps of spiny gorse; the air was heady with the summery aromas of the wood. Hundreds of graves were hidden among the trees right up the hillside, as if they too had grown there. The road curved in a spiral dance around the hill to the summit, modern in construction but hinting at an ancient processional route. 'Welcome to the Hill of Yews,' Melliflor said respectfully, 'known by the local people as Tom-na-hurich.'
They followed the road round until they were swallowed by the trees and the lights of Inverness were lost. It was a strange, mysterious place, eerily still, yet their footfalls echoed in an unusual and unnerving manner; no one felt like talking until they had reached the summit. Here a large area had been cleared at the centre and filled with the jarringly regimented rows of a Victorian cemetery. The fringes were thickly treed with the oldest yews and oaks. At the highest point a cross had been raised to mark Remembrance Day.
They stopped at a nondescript spot among the crumbling, brown gravestones. Melliflor took a step forward and bowed his head before muttering something under his breath. A second later the ground vibrated with a deep bass rumble, as if enormous machinery had come to life, then the grass and soil prised itself apart. From within the long, dark tunnel which had materialised Veitch could hear faint music that immediately made him want to dance; the tang of rich spices wafted out into the balmy night and he was suddenly ravenously hungry. But then he glanced up at Tom and all his desires were wiped clean; the Rhymer's face was as white as a sheet and taut with the effort of keeping in his fear; a faint tick was pulsing near his mouth which, in the emotionless dish of his face, made him look like he was screaming.
At the other end of the tunnel were a pair of long, scarlet curtains. Melliflor held them aside for Veitch and Tom to pass into a great hall which appeared to be the venue for a riotous party. The music was almost deafening; Veitch heard fiddles, drums, a flute, other instruments he couldn't quite place, although he could see no sign of a band. A roaring fire in one corner made the air very warm, but not as uncomfortable as he would have expected at the height of summer. It was filled with an amazing range of scents, with each fresh waft bringing a new one: lime, pepper, roast beef, strawberries, cardamom, hops-so many it made his head spin.
So much was happening in the hall, he couldn't concentrate on one sense for too long. Long tables ranged around the outside of the room on which were heaped every food imaginable, though many he couldn't recognise and some made him turn away, although he couldn't explain why. In the centre of the room the Tuatha De Danann were dancing. Scores of them whirled round and round with wild abandon to the odd music, which occasionally flew off the register of Witch's hearing. It was like a turbulent sea of gold waves crashing against the tables and the walls; it made him queasy to watch.
The assault on Witch's senses was so great he felt his knees go weak and for a moment he was afraid he was going to faint. But then the rush hit him powerfully and he was swept up in it all. His body was reacting as if he had taken a cocktail of drugs, some mild hallucinogen and an amphetamine; he wanted to fling himself into the seething mass.
He was vaguely aware of someone on his right proffering a goblet of deep, red wine. Unconsciously he reached out to take it, his gaze still fixed on the dance floor.
He was jolted alert by the weight of Tom's hand on his forearm. The Rhymer was already thanking the young girl who had offered the wine with the studied politeness which seemed necessary to prevent any retribution. The girl looked disappointed and her face darkened as she turned away.
Veitch bowed his head sheepishly as Tom glared at him; he couldn't believe how quickly he had almost gone against all of Tom's deeply stressed cautions. He would not forget again.
His attention was drawn back to the dancing, and beyond it to the shadows that clustered along the edges. There he could just spy writhing bodies; the gods looked to be in coitus. He could just make out bobbing heads, violent thrusting, sensuous movements, and occasionally the sounds of passion broke through the music; but there was something about it which did not seem quite right, as if the bodies were not penetrating and enveloping, but flowing in and out of each other like mercury; merging. He looked away.
Melliflor was at Tom's side, hands cupped, falsely oleaginous. 'The Queen was overjoyed to know you had returned, True Thomas. She will see you shortly. In the meantime, you and your companion be accepted as our guests. There is food and wine aplenty, the finest music in all of the Far Lands. Make merry, True Thomas, and be a perfect son of the Court of the Yearning Heart.'
'And is it all given freely and without obligation?' Tom asked dispassionately.
'Ah, True Thomas,' Melliflor said cunningly, 'you know we can make no promises here.'
Veitch and Tom found a pile of luxurious cushions in one corner from where they could watch the dancing. Veitch felt so comfortable after the exhaustions of the previous weeks he could have fallen asleep in an instant, but he was sure that was not wise. He was afraid to do anything in case he committed himself to something unpleasant and he wished he had listened more carefully to Tom's instructions during the long walk to Inverness.
Several times revellers walked up to offer jugs of wine or plates lavishly filled with juicy fruit or spiced meat, but always Tom politely refused. It was like a game the Tuatha De Danann were playing to see if they could catch their guests out; Witch could see them talking excitedly and pointing at him before an even more tasty offering was brought up. By the end Veitch's mouth was watering and his stomach rumbling, and all he could do was think how long ago his last meal had been.
Eventually Melliflor glided up. He bowed deeply. 'The Queen will see you and your companion now, True Thomas.'
The two of them were led out of the great hall along stone corridors hung with intricately embroidered tapestries and rich brocaded cloth. Braziers burned with scented wood so the atmosphere was constantly heady. They passed many closed doors and from behind them came strange, unnerving sounds; some sounded like yelps of
