Deeds of Men Read Online Free PDF Page A

fae, but another entirely to step into their world.
    Their world alone was strange enough. Neither weight nor a shortage of funds bound the ceilings to the earth; they curved upward in pointed arches, sometimes ornamented, sometimes austere stone. Deven, seeing the palace through Ware’s eyes, cringed at the ever-present black, which gave their surroundings an ominous cast. But his true apprehension was reserved for the court’s faerie subjects: with Deven leading Ware by public ways and no goblin to clear their path, they could not go far without encountering someone.
    He exhaled in relief when it came. A lubberkin. Could be worse. The creature was dwarfish, and his joints might have been assembled by an apprentice who had not heeded his model, but his wide face was more comical than intimidating. “My lord,” the lubberkin said, and bowed to let Deven pass.
    He saw the puck note Ware with a narrowing of the eyes. ’Twill be all over the Hall before the hour is up. The fae were terrible gossips.
    It would not slow the rumours any, but Deven said, “Bear word to the Queen that I crave her company in my study.” Better that than dragging young Ware into the presence chamber, or the night garden, or wherever else Lune might be at this hour.
    The lubberkin bowed again and ran. “’Tis not much farther,” Deven said to his guest, embroidering the truth only a little, for reassurance.
    For the first time since his exclamation, Ware spoke. “Anne of Denmark has lain dead these six years. And Henrietta Maria, though wed, is not yet crowned.” His throat shifted, and then he said, “You meant some other Queen.”
    “I did,” Deven agreed. “A gracious and gentle lady, who holds as her foremost concern the well-being of the mortals of England. If she be not in conference with some adviser or ambassador, you will see her soon.”
    Yes, he thought, watching Ware take in those words, they have their advisers and ambassadors. They are not so different after all.
    Which was a lie. There were differences, and they could be profound indeed. But better for young Ware that he should see kinship, not foreignness.
    They reached the relative security of Deven’s study. The only faerie there was his servant Podder, a hob scarce as tall as Ware’s hip and ugly as old leather; he had prepared the room, setting out chairs by the fire, and pouring two cups of wine. Deven’s own stock, taken from the world above, and safe for any mortal to drink. But he hardly expected Ware to believe that, and so he waved the hob away, wine and all.
    Fast as Podder must have run to reach the chamber before them, he scarcely outpaced Lune. She entered before Deven could even begin considering how to fill the silence, and she came in alone. Of course: the lubberkin could not have failed to recognise the family resemblance, and Lune knew enough of Henry to guess what that meant.
    She was not in formal apparel, but she still made an impressive enough sight, with opals and sea’s tears in her slender coronet, and the smooth gait that made her seem an airy being, hardly physical at all. Ware stared at her. After ten heartbeats he was still on his feet. The silence stretched out for another ten, Deven reluctant to break it with the customary words of courtesy, until Ware at last said, “I will not bow to you.”
    Human royalty, raised in the assurance of privilege, might have been offended; Lune’s pride was not so fragile. “You are welcome among us, Master Ware, whether you bend knee or not. I am sorry for the loss of your brother.”
    “What was he to you?”
    Honest sorrow tinged Lune’s voice as she said, “Our hope of the future. Henry was two years among us: more than enough time to call him friend.”
    The sorrow was calculated, but not contrived; Lune could lower the mask of her composure when it served her purpose. And the gentle note of her grief might temper Ware’s defensive hostility. But not immediately, for the young man said, “And