Otherworld Challenger by Jane Godman

constant plots by the followers of the Unseelie code to overthrow King Ivo.”
    â€œAnd, of course, the stories she told you all had a basis in truth.”
    Jethro looked again at the solitary figure by the window. Bertha turned another card and hummed her melancholy lullaby. “Which is why I need to speak to her. Do you remember my favorite bedtime story when I was young?”
    Gillespie frowned in an effort of recollection. “Something about a lost prince?”
    â€œIt was the tale about the great massacre. The night on which Moncoya led his followers into King Ivo’s palace and slaughtered the king, his family and all his followers. It brought about the end of the Seelie Court and the beginning of centuries of domination over the faerie race by the Unseelie Court.” Vashti’s long eyelashes fluttered down, hiding the expression in her eyes from his view. “But a baby—one of King Ivo’s great nephews—was smuggled out of the palace by his nurse and taken to a place of safety. I always thought my mother made that story up, but now I know it really happened.”
    â€œAnd why does it matter so much?”
    â€œI have been given the task of finding that last remaining member of King Ivo’s family. Don’t you see what it means? It’s not just about challenging Moncoya. This is a chance to restore the Seelie Court to its former glory.”
    Gillespie frowned. “What makes you think your mother can tell you any more now than she did then?”
    Jethro drew a deep breath. “Because, from some of the things she said, I think Bertha knew where the child was taken.”
    * * *
    â€œShe is too fragile.” Gillespie’s face was anguished.
    â€œI swear I won’t hurt her.” If she hadn’t heard it for herself, Vashti never would have believed Jethro’s voice could be capable of such gentleness.
    â€œI thought you didn’t use the dark arts of the ancient necromancers.” Gillespie pointed to the box. “If that is so, why do you need that?”
    â€œI need to try to restore her memory for a brief period of time. We both know she won’t respond if I simply speak to her as I’m talking to you now. That is because her mind was already damaged when she died, the decline had begun before she crossed over.” Jethro shot Gillespie a look from under lowered brows. “And, if you’ll let me, I can get her to release her grip on this house and send her to Otherworld where much of her consciousness will be restored.”
    â€œI promised her I would never make her leave here.”
    â€œSome promises are made to be broken.” The softer note was back.
    â€œI will permit you to question her, as long as you stop immediately if she becomes distressed.”
    Jethro nodded.
    Vashti noticed Gillespie made no further reference to Jethro’s offer to remove Bertha from this house and Jethro didn’t try to force the issue. It seemed to be a well-worn subject between the two men.
    â€œThat goes without saying.” Jethro undid the brass clips on the case and opened it. The interior was divided into compartments lined with worn, red velvet. Unable to contain her curiosity, Vashti rose from her seat and came to stand closer. Some of the compartments contained bones, others small jars with symbols etched on yellowing labels. One contained a large book, another a folded cloth and in the center there was a large, black candle. Aware of her scrutiny, Jethro turned his head. “Many people believe necromancy is simply another form of witchcraft.” He lifted the cloth from his case as he spoke and spread it over the piano top. It was a delicate, shimmering silk, embroidered all over with celestial symbols. “It is easy to dismiss that which we don’t understand as evil, and necromancers have been viewed throughout the centuries as masters of the dark arts. But we are not witches. Our gifts are