out a sound that was almost a grunt of frustration but also something more. He looked up at Conn.
'They will come,' he said.
'Here?'
'Of course, here. Where else? They will try to prevent my plans from coming to fruition.'
'How?'
'I doesn't matter how! It is enough that they are free!'
Conn remained silent as the thoughts seemed to churn through Courtenay's mind, the look on his face saying that much at least.
'Get as many men as you can. Stop them entering the Palace,' Courtenay said.
'How?'
'I don't care how!' he screamed. 'Any way you can. Block the gates. Barricade and burn down the bridges. Put men on every door if you have to. Just stop them.'
'Yes, Your Majesty,' Conn replied.
'But, the Queen is resourceful,' Courtenay said, 'she may still be able to find her way in. If she does, make sure that she doesn't reach the Audience Chamber. She must be kept away at all costs.'
'I understand.'
'Do you? Do you really, though?
Conn nodded.'
'I am warning you, Conn. On your life, she must be taken before she reaches the Council.'
'She will be stopped.'
'She had better be.' Courtenay stared at him, his cold grey eyes threatening him even now. 'Now get out!'
Conn turned and slipped out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him. He shook his head as he walked along the Palace corridor. That was the first time that the Hood had ever raised his voice to him. His anger had been evident, almost as if the news of Ysabel's escape and his own failure at the villa had signified that the man had lost control of the situation, and Conn knew now that the man had.
It hadn't taken long for him to pass the message around the Palace guards but he could tell from the looks on their faces that they were uncomfortable with the instructions that he had handed out. Warned, now, that Ysabel and her makeshift army would without doubt be coming to try to free the Electors they had all seemed wary. They had evidently all loved her, and events of the last few weeks seemed to have shaken everyone in the city to the core. The peace was fragile, more like a waiting to see what happened than the contentment that was present during Ysabel's reign. People were nervous, even the King didn't have to be told that. He carried on, through the Palace, towards the main gates.
His whole world was unravelling before his eyes, he thought, as he crossed the courtyard. Spen was gone, Verkade too. Spen's death was always going to come, sooner or later, he was a loose cannon in many ways but his raw energy had been useful to tap into during their many scrapes. The thing that upset him most, though, was the way that Verkade had turned his back on everything that they had been through together. The man had been like a father to him, but the look on his face as they fought in the corridor had told him all he wanted to know. Verkade had drawn his line and had been prepared to die for it. And now he was alone. The man had been right, though, this time, he knew that now. The whole thing had gone too far and he had been swept along by a character stronger and with more vision than he had ever come across in all his days. Now the ride was ending.
'Open the gate,' Conn said, addressing the man that had been stationed there.
The guard seemed no more than a boy as he reached forward to unfasten the bolts that locked out the world, but at least he belonged to something. Something that he obviously cared about. Conn wondered what it was that he, himself, believed in.
The door swung open and Conn stepped out onto the square. The branches of the trees that had been planted to make the place look more natural waved in the breeze, the last of the late leaves still lingering, waiting for their turn to fall and join the carpet of red and gold that lay around the base. Then, as he saw the colours, he remembered for the first time in a while, how much he hated the city. Not that White Haven was that bad, as cities went, but while he was here he no longer felt free and the artificial boundaries of civilisation made him want to retch.
He set off in the direction of the bridge that led back to the city proper, with its market and people that drifted aimlessly though their lives, controlled by forces that they could not fathom. He had been a bit like that recently, he realised, but now what he had to do was clear in his mind.
He looked to his left. Four figures crossed the square towards the main gate, carrying baskets of bright multi-coloured flowers. Courtenay really must have gone mad, he thought, if he had taken to placing flower arrangements around the Palace at a time like this. Then, he realised that he was right. Obsessed by his own vision of how the world should be, the man had gone mad. But it was a world that was never meant to be, and Conn knew he was never meant to be part of it.
Conn continued on a few more steps and then had the unexplainable urge to glance back at the group of flower arrangers one more time. There was something strange about those women, he thought, either that, or some of the females in this city were god-awful ugly these days.
He smiled to himself and kept going. Who cared? he thought. It wasn't his problem any more.
oOo
Ysabel moved her basket of blooms to one side as she walked across the square, turning to face the three men that followed behind her. The material of their dresses rustled as they walked on but their was no mistaking their muscular shape below the frills and across their bare shoulders.
'Keep your mouths shut as we get to the gate,' she said. 'Lord knows that you make terrible women, so let's hope they don't look too closely.'
'I don't think this dress suits me,' Winterburne said, poking his head around his own basket of flowers. Then, his face contorted and he let out a deep, loud, masculine sneeze. 'Excuse me,' he said.
'Please don't tell me that you have hay-fever,' Ysabel said, looking up at the sky.
'Apparently, I do,' he replied.
'God help us,' Ysabel said.
'I fear that even he may struggle this time,' Rampton added.
Marek sniggered at the back of the line, and Ysabel glanced back at the men, a deep frown on her face, 'Shush!' she said.
As they approached the door, Ysabel turned and handed her basket to Winterburne.
'Here,' she said, 'hold this.'
She turned back and pounded on the door. It opened slowly, just a little, and a young face peered through the gap for a moment. Then the door opened wider and its owner stepped out. It was a guard, not much more than a boy. He pulled the door closed after him.
'State your business,' the guard said.
Ysabel looked at the young man, and then at the baskets of flowers before looking at the guard again. 'Are you serious?' she asked. 'We've come to muck out the horses, what do you think?'
'I don't have any orders to allow florists into the Palace.' The guard peered along the line, frowning.
'Then check your orders.' Ysabel planted her fists firmly onto her hips, and glared at the man.
'That's easy,' the man replied, 'my orders are to let no-one into the Palace.'
'Then your orders are wrong. I received a request from Dieter Conn this very morning to place the King's favourite flowers in the main audience chamber.'
'He mentioned nothing to me.'
'Then it must have slipped his mind.' Ysabel sounded confident and assured. 'Ask him if you like.'
The guard frowned and scratched his head. 'That won't be possible,' he said, 'I saw him leave the Palace, with my own eyes, less than ten minutes ago.'
'That's most unfortunate.' Ysabel crossed her arms across her chest. 'But, if I have to take these away they'll be no good to me and I will send you the bill.' She stared at the man again. 'What's your name?'
'Pardon me?' the guard replied.
'Give me your name. I need to know to who I should send the bill.'
The guard thought about this for what seemed like a long moment and then softened a little. 'Come to think of it,' he said, 'there is something a little familiar about you. Have you been here before?'
'Of course,' Ysabel replie
d, 'many times. Before the new king took over, I was ''By Appointment'' to Queen Ysabel.'
'And these...ladies?' The guard sneered in disgust. 'They're your assistants?'
'That's right.' Ysabel turned to the three men. 'Say hello to the nice man, ladies.'
Winterburne, Rampton and Marek, pulled the baskets closer to further cover their faces and nodded at the guard.
'Hmm,' the guard said.'Very well, but don't hang around, and get your job done quickly.'
'Oh,' Ysabel said, 'we will. Trust me, we'll be as quick as we can.'
oOo
Now that they had entered the Palace, the group had met no resistance from any more of the Palace guards and the way had been largely clear as they travelled deeper into the building. The few guards that they had seen, whilst looking up from their duties, did not seem to care that they were there.
Winterburne peeped around the flowers that covered his unshaven face.
'I expected to see more men at station than this,' he said, in no more than a raised whisper.
Ysabel looked around and frowned at him. 'Something is not right,' she said. 'That we can get this far into the Palace virtually unchallenged is indeed a concern.'
The group continued on through corridor after corridor, each with its own decoration of tapestries, flags and furniture lining the walls, until finally they reached a closed door, at the end of a corridor of closed doors.
Ysabel held up her hand and turned to face them all. 'All along this hall are the offices of the clerks to the Palace. Beyond this one,' she said, placing her hand on the door before them, 'is the Long Hall. It