by The first time I met the king and queen of the trolls, they were rather informally dressed. They were wearing leisure kit, to be precise—pyjamas, almost (excepting the coronet sported by her gracious majesty Ysurra).
When there’s an emergency council of war, though, they bring out the sartorial big guns.
Alban escorted Jay and me into a sort of grand presence chamber, dating, probably, from the 1600s. Its vaulted ceiling swooped away to impossible heights – or so it seemed, from my modest vantage point. Quite a few people occupied an array of silk-upholstered chairs, but the room dwarfed us, the chatter of voices echoing in the emptiness of the space.
Enthroned in the centre—more or less literally—were their joint majesties, King Naldran and Queen Ysurra, draped in sumptuous state regalia. Both were coroneted; both wore robes of crisp silk brocade, and sat with a kind of statuesque posture which couldn’t help but seem imposing. I wondered as to the identity of some of the other attendees, several of whom bore the grandeur of visiting dignitaries. Most of them were trolls, but not all: I saw a few other humans, like myself; one or two Yllanfalen; and several fae. I looked for Emellana Rogan, hoping to see her familiar face, but she wasn’t there.
Alban seated Jay and I at the front, where we sat feeling like prized exhibits in some grand museum (or I did, anyway; Jay appeared as composed as ever). Alban settled nearby, in between us and their majesties. I felt a little reassured by his familiar bulk so close, like a bulwark against the storm.
Our arrival appeared to signal the beginning of the meeting, for the great double doors were closed behind us (with an echoing boom), and King Naldran began to speak.
‘We thank you for your prompt attendance of this impromptu council. The matter at hand, as you may imagine, is of some urgency, and does not admit of any delay. I believe everyone here is acquainted with the situation of ancient Farringale; in particular its impassibility, at least by those of the troll people. It has therefore been impossible for us to reclaim the vast wealth of our cultural heritage which remains within its walls, reports of which we have lately received in some detail from the Society.’ His august gaze rested, briefly, upon me, and I couldn’t help wincing a bit. Here we came to the crux of the matter. He was, thus far, characterising our involvement in positive terms; however I was as aware as he must be that a more negative construction could be placed upon it. If Jay and Alban and I hadn’t breached the walls of Farringale a year ago, and carried out tales of its marvels (not to mention examples of it, like Mauf and his predecessor), well then Ancestria Magicka would never have been alerted to its treasures either. And the current incursion probably would never have happened.
The king said none of this, thankfully. ‘Unfortunately,’ he went on, ‘there are those who covet the unique treasures of Farringale, and who are, even now, carrying away some portion of its irreplaceable artefacts. If we do not act, and quickly, we are like to see the total devastation of the priceless heritage of our ancient court. The extent of the cultural loss to the troll people can scarcely be described.’
‘We call for aid,’ said Queen Ysurra. ‘The might of the Troll Court stands at naught in this instance, for our people can only enter Farringale at the greatest cost. Queen Mab assures us the full support of the Society and all its expertise, but against the might and the ruthlessness of Ancestria Magicka it must struggle to prevail alone.’
Queen Mab! I felt a jolt, a shock, to hear that name so openly pronounced. Milady’s identity, if it had ever been a secret to these people, was secret no longer.
‘Who will answer this call?’ continued Ysurra. ‘We and all our Court shall stand forever in your debt.’
My hand shot up before I’d had chance to think things through. ‘I can promise the assistance of the kingdom of Ygranyllon,’ I said, with a confidence it in no way merited, for did not my mother delight in being difficult?
The queen inclined her head at me. ‘If they are so inclined, then we are grateful.’
Which was a polite way of saying: if my mother actually backed me up on my promise, great.
She would. I’d get her to help us, by hook or by crook.
I remained silent after that, as others offered aid. The emerging picture proved serious: if I’d been minded to name Ancestria Magicka’s move into Farringale as an invasion, well, this was an army mustering in response. If Fenella Beaumont had imagined she could rob the city with impunity, she was sorely mistaken.
She might have imagined just that, I supposed, for had not Farringale been left, all these long centuries, in its abandoned state? A whole year gone by since Jay and I had first set foot in the decaying city, and all its treasures remained therein: untouched. Unwanted?
No, she could never imagine them unwanted. She must know that the Court would exercise its right to the contents of Farringale, as soon as a solution was found to the infestation which rendered it impenetrable to the trolls. That’s why she had acted now: before there would be any chance of the entire Troll Court descending in all its fury to oppose her plundering of the city.
What a pity they could not. For all the ready assistance of the Court’s allies, there’d be nothing quite like a legion of infuriated trolls to send a wily thief packing. And it was their ancestral home: who had the right, if not they?
‘Jay…’ I whispered, as voices rose and fell around us, determining the fate of Farringale in a few hastily agreed deals.
‘Yes.’
‘What if we could…’
He waited, and then prompted: ‘Yes?’
‘I mean, wouldn’t it be marvellous if we could…’
He turned his head to look at me when I trailed off again. I knew that my idea was written large across my face: blazoned there in awe at the sheer audacity of my thinkings. I could hardly pronounce the words.
‘We’ve done many marvellous things,’ he said, encouragingly. ‘I daresay we could manage one more.’
Poor fool. He imagined I had something sensible in mind, something halfway achievable, and I wondered where he had got that idea. ‘Orlando’s got another couple of regulators ready,’ I said in a rush. ‘If we’re taking everyone down there anyway—Milady’s committed us already—well, what if we could—what if we could—’
‘Just say it, Ves,’ said Jay, his patience expiring.
‘What if we could—fix it?’
Jay’s brows rose. ‘Fix it? Fix Farringale?’
‘Yes. What if we could—sort it out. Mend the magickal surges. Get rid of the ortherex. Fix it. And then the Court could send all the might of the trolls out there, and wipe Ancestria Magicka off the face of Farringale forever.’
Jay stared. ‘I hardly dare ask, but… do you have an actual plan? Something workable?’
‘Well—no, not exactly, but I’m stronger than I used to be, and I think Merlin’s powers might be able to accomplish quite a bit. And we’ve got the regulators now, and Baroness Tremayne to help us—she’s Morgan after all, there must be something she could do that would help—and—’
‘Ves.’ Jay’s eyes were very wide. ‘We cannot just barrel in there and take on the entire mess that is Farringale without having a solid plan. No!’ he said, when I tried to interject. ‘We aren’t winging this. It’s crazy.’
‘It’s crazy,’ I agreed. ‘Wonderfully, superbly crazy. Don’t you trust me?’
‘To—to take on centuries of disease, neglect and decay at the age-old capital of the troll kingdoms more or less single-handedly, in the face of serious opposition from Ancestria Magicka, and without any clear idea what you’re going to do? Am I supposed to have a ready answer to that?’
‘You’re supposed to say “yes”.’
Jay passed a hand over his face, as though to clear the mist from before his eyes. ‘You know, the craziest thing is that I probably do. But I shouldn’t.’
‘Come on, Jay! Imagine how incredible it will be if we can pull this off.’
‘I’m imagining how much of a disaster it will be if we can’t.’
‘It could be a disaster if we don’t,’ I returned, grimly. ‘We’re sitting here talking, while Fenella Beaumont and her horrible friends are looting the libraries, enslaving the griffins, and conducting who knows what other nefarious activities within its unprotected borders. We’ve got to do something.’
‘We are doing something. This entire council is for the doing of something.’
‘And that’s wonderful, but it is also slow.’
We had attracted Alban’s attention with our whispering. ‘Ves,’ he said, leaning over. ‘Is this true? You’ve got a way to make the site safe for us?’
‘No,’ said Jay.
‘Maybe.’ said I. ‘I could try—’
‘That would change—everything.’ Alban stood up, and went away to confer with his royal parents—leaving me to face Jay’s wrath alone.
And he was wroth with me. ‘Ves, this isn’t just a you-and-me adventure anymore. This is serious. The stakes couldn’t be higher. Don’t make promises to these people when you can’t keep them!’
I could have protested that I hadn’t promised; I’d only said I could try. But that would be quibbling. Jay was right: I’d raised an expectation and now I had to find a way to fulfil it. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ I said instead. ‘We try and we don’t succeed, leaving us no worse off than we are now.’
‘The worst that could happen,’ answered Jay, with that terrible, elaborate patience he gets when he’s entirely at his wit’s end with me, ‘is that we wreak some fresh disaster upon Farringale, unleashing unknowable but doubtless appalling havoc upon a city already sorely beleaguered, and emphatically make things worse.’
‘That isn’t likely.’
‘It’s a more likely outcome than success.’
Jay, I knew, was no risk taker. He was steady and methodical; he liked to feel fully in control, to know exactly what to do and what to expect. That he put up with me at all was a source of wonder to me; when I asked him to take a leap of faith on my account, and barrel down the road of recklessness in hope of a good outcome, I asked a great deal.
I’d never asked more of him than I was asking right then. I took a deep breath. ‘Jay,’ I said, very seriously. ‘Will you trust me? This one last time?’
‘It won’t be the last time.’
‘I’ll never ask anything this crazy of you again.’
He pointed a finger at my face. ‘That is a promise you definitely can’t keep.’
I tried a smile. ‘How many lost and devastated cities can I possibly find to test my powers upon?’ A moment’s thought forced me to add, hastily, ‘Don’t answer that.’
His mouth twitched: a smile, ruthlessly suppressed. ‘I’ll make a bargain with you.’
‘Yes!’ I said, elated. ‘I agree.’
‘You haven’t heard my terms.’
‘I trust you. I agree to any terms you name.’
He eyed me. ‘You can’t do this alone, and I absolutely decline to try it as your sole support. Thus. If Milady—Queen Mab herself—is in favour of this insane scheme, then I’ll go along with it.’
I clutched at Jay’s arm in delight. ‘Yes. Thank you. I know she’ll want us to try.’
‘Do you know that?’
‘Yes,’ I said, a bare-faced lie.
Jay, finally, grinned. ‘You’ve got your mother and Mab to convince; you’d better get cracking.’
I looked over at Alban, still in conference with the king and queen, along with a severe-looking Yllanfalen lady and a pair of trolls I didn’t know. He gestured at me, and several pairs of eyes fixed upon my tentatively smiling face with clear intent. Whether I liked it or not, I’d convinced them; I could only hope that I hadn’t finally, irrevocably, bitten off far more than I could chew.
