William’s heart pounded. Only the sword in Kirby’s hand prevented him from rushing forward. “What did you do to him, you sick freak?”
The subtle pleasure Kirby had displayed now emerged in full, a look of pure ecstasy spreading across his face. “Remember that display I left in your woods? That’s nothing compared to what you’ll find in the Library basement.”
William was torn. He wanted nothing more than to strangle Kirby, to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze the life from him. But he couldn’t risk it, whether or not Kirby knew how to use a sword. Another part of him wanted to find Cairns, even if it was too late to save him, but leaving Kirby to go free after his monstrous confession offended every sense of right and wrong.
“That’s what I’ve waited for,” said Kirby with a satisfied smile. “That’s the pain I’ve wanted to see on your face for all these years. Disgust, rage, conflict…all there in one beautiful image. The perfect ending.” He tossed the pill into his mouth and swallowed. “Good bye, Willie. Thanks for playing along.”
William froze with horror as Kirby’s face began to change. It started with mere discomfort, and quickly deepened into agony, followed by a look of unexpected shock. A choking sound escaped his lips as they swelled, and his hands clutched at his throat as he gasped for air. Slowly, with immense effort, Kirby lowered his hands and faced William, locking eyes with him. William recognized the look, though it was hidden within the agony.
Exultation. Kirby was enjoying this. William stared, rooted to the spot, uncertain what to do or even if anything could be done. Kirby slumped to his knees, bathed in the lantern’s glow, landing on Orren Whitehall’s grave. With his last effort, he lay on the grave, face to the sky. He convulsed for several seconds, but remained in place, his eyes fixated on William. Wheezing breaths filled the night air, less frequent as time passed, pink froth forming on his swollen lips. With a great rattling heave of his chest, Kirby breathed once more, and fell silent.
William’s mind reeled. The knowledge that he’d been targeted not only by his childhood nemesis but also his unknown commander, combined with an unexpected suicide on top of his father’s grave, left him numb, unable to move or even think. Eventually, he bent over the body and retrieved his sword, carefully removing the scabbard from the belt as well. He then dragged the body to the path where the guards could handle it without trampling the burial grounds.
Distant voices from below startled him back to reality. Taking confidence from his recovered sword, he raced up the hill to reach the Library before anyone else, heedless of any possible remaining danger. He found no one at the top, neither rebel nor guard, and no sign of any missing officials, either. The giant Library door loomed before him, warning him of the terrible sight that lay behind it. He gripped his sword hilt and entered, unwilling to let anyone else discover Cairns’ body.
Cairns’ office was abandoned, dust covering the few items on his old employer’s desk. He found a lantern and lit it with shaking hands. The remaining offices on the upper floor were empty as well, including the one he’d occupied himself years before. His knees trembled as he descended the stairs to the basement, unsure of what he would find. He tried the official records room first, finding the door unlocked. With great trepidation, he opened it slowly—and found nothing. Next was the display room, where the ancient Marshall Ibycus book was kept, but he passed it by, not knowing where Cairns kept the key.
That left the map room. The door was secured with a makeshift bar across the outside, which he gently lifted from its brackets and set aside. The door creaked as he pulled it open, and he held his breath as he prepared himself for whatever grisly sight that waited behind it.
“Oh, hello William!”
He nearly dropped the lantern in surprise. “Lester! What…how…but you’re supposed to be…”
Cairns gave him a matter-of-fact look. “Dead? No, but I’m glad you found me when you did. All this time alone, and I could have been working, but your old friend wouldn’t leave me so much as a candle. He said you’d be the one to find me. Is this nonsense finally over?”
“I hope so,” said William as he helped Lester to his feet. “He told me you’d be…that he’d…”
The old man patted his shoulder. “I’m sure he told you all sorts of horrible things, William. I’ve known people like him. The best you can do is not react to what they say, even if you believe it. Did he get away with all the others?”
William shook his head. “He took his own life. Advanced cancer. He said he’d stayed alive to finish this…whatever ‘this’ was.”
Cairns shook his head in surprise. “Well, I suspect few will miss him. Do me a favor and look in my desk for the display room key, would you? It’s in a hidden compartment under the top drawer. I need to find out if they stole the book.”
He rushed upstairs, found the key, and brought it back to the basement. It had been at least three years since he’d last visited the display room, but he remembered to keep the lantern outside, and adjusted the giant silver mirror to reflect the light toward the display case. Cairns took William’s elbow, and together they approached. They both let out huge sighs of relief as the book came into view. “I still get chills when I see this,” said William.
“That feeling never fades,” said Cairns with a gentle smile. “Not even after thirty years. Help me upstairs, William. They gave me food and water, but the cold has seeped into my joints, and I don’t think I can make it on my own.”
William lit the brazier as soon as he got Cairns settled into his office and set a kettle of water to boil for tea. “Are you in much pain?”
Cairns grimaced and laughed at the same time. “At my age, pain is a constant companion. Nothing a couple of pills and a glass of wine won’t soothe, but I can wait. Tell me everything that’s happened.”
He looked at Cairns with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want me to find Maya and ask her to examine you? They may not have hurt you, but you’ve had a rough time.”
“I’ve been imprisoned for the better part of a month, William. My curiosity needs more attention than my old bones do. Tell me everything.”
William related Alred’s demand for taxes, the attack on his barony that followed, and his attempts to find someone to vouch for his marriage license. He described his capture and escape, and followed with the fire and the confrontation with Kirby. Cairns listened in near complete silence, interjecting only once, asking him to describe the pigeon keeper. He nodded, and William continued until he reached the present time. “The Faywater guards are probably running a sweep through the administration buildings right now,” he concluded.
Cairns heaved a great sigh. “So not only am I behind on my work, I also missed your wedding,” he said. “I hope no one aside from this Kirby fellow lost their lives over this business.”
“Clyde—that’s the dragon I’m fostering—killed a rebel back at the barony. But what happened to you? No one knew where you went.”
Cairns took a long sip of tea. “I’m afraid my story isn’t as exciting as yours. A pet dragon, you say? I suppose I’ll have to see him for myself. You lead an interesting life, William, but I do hope those books haven’t annoyed you too much.” He smiled at William’s frown and continued. “Anyway, I started noticing changes a few months ago, as early as Arrival Day. Earl Bradford’s clerks were replaced one by one, and the guards on duty became less recognizable every week. I asked Earl Bradford about it during one of our weekly poker games, but he shrugged it off, saying experienced clerks are inevitably offered rich promotions. So long as Jeffrey remained, he wasn’t worried. Sir Hendrick said the same thing was happening with his guards, but he was happy as long as they sent replacements. In fact, he said his contingent was increasing monthly, and with a growing population two new recruits are worth more than a single veteran.”
“Only if they’re loyal,” said William, unable to hide his disgust at Sir Hendrick’s blindness to a rebellion within his own barracks.
; “You mustn’t blame the man,” said Cairns. “An officer has to trust the people above him or the system won’t work. Someone in Faywater sent him bad people, and the same happened with the earl’s staff. About three weeks ago—probably around the same day Alred appeared at your doorstep—the earl ordered Sir Hendrick to personally lead an extended patrol. I know the captain questioned the orders, at least privately, because he told me so before he left. But he followed his orders, unwittingly taking the only remaining honest guards with him. When they locked me in the basement, I guessed someone was trying to control Earl Bradford and turn him into a puppet. Marshland isn’t a large town, but a lot of wealth flows through here from Rebel Falls to Faywater Port. The hand that controls that flow wields a lot of power.”
“But now it looks like they were only targeting this spring’s tax collection,” said William. “Unless I’m mistaken, all the rebels are already gone. Isn’t that quicker and less risky than milking the town for months or years?”
Cairns shook his head. “I’ve seen every tax report since I moved to Marshland Crossing, and even with the recent growth a single tax collection doesn’t justify such an effort. It may be a fortune to you—it certainly is to a lowly town official like myself—but for the size and complexity of the operation, it’s not a big enough prize.”
A knot formed in William’s stomach. “So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying something doesn’t add up. Where are the deductive skills you used to uncover Kaleb Antony’s rebel group? I can’t believe you don’t have the same nagging doubts I do.”
William nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. Everything about this has felt…strange. I simply didn’t realize why until now. Do you think this was more than mere robbery?”
Cairns leaned forward, his eyes bright with intensity. “Guard officers were involved in this, William, at a high enough level that nearly all of Marshland’s entire force was replaced with criminals while no one noticed. Likewise the earl’s clerks. This was planned and executed over a long time and in great secrecy. The tax money of one town—even Marshland Crossing’s—is probably less than they spent to execute their plan.”
“Maybe they thought it would be more?” suggested William.
“Pour me another tea, will you?” said Cairns as he handed his cup to William. “No, whoever planned this crime would know better. There’s another angle to this we aren’t seeing.”
William jumped at the sound of the front door opening. His hand flew to his sword as boots clomped across the wooden floor outside Cairns’ office.
“Hi, Lester,” said Rachel as she came into view. “Figured you’d be here, Will. Tell Jack I won the bet, would you?”
William exhaled in relief. “Is everything over?”
Rachel nodded, her face grim. “They found the earl. He’s called a meeting. And he wants you in it.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lester, appearing confused. “Does he want me or William?”
“Both of you,” she said. “Immediately.”
Chapter 20
The meeting hall was packed. William and Rachel sat in the front row beside Jack, while Cairns took his place at the table on the dais with the other town officials. Sir Hendrick had returned with his loyal guards, having joined the Faywater contingent at Kolmo, and sat beside Major Bentsen. A large crowd had stuffed themselves into the rows of benches behind them, William recognizing some of his fellow barons among the forward rows.
Jack nudged his elbow as they waited. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in chastising you for going off alone again? Even Clyde was miffed about being left behind.”
William brushed aside the complaint with a wave of his hand. “Not now, Jack.”
Maya and Charlie joined them as a disheveled Earl Bradford banged his gavel for attention. “I have many people to thank for my release, and the release of other officials, but that will have to wait. As you will probably guess from my appearance, I have been incarcerated for nearly a month now, as many others have been. However, now is not the time for assigning blame.” He cast a sidelong glance at Sir Hendrick, who turned a shade of red but kept his composure. “Major Bentsen will give a report now.”
“Thank you, your Lordship,” said Bentsen as he stood. “I am Major Bentsen of the Faywater Port Guard. At Duke Vincent’s orders, based on letters from many among you, I led a contingent of three hundred guards to Marshland Crossing. By the time we arrived, no rebels were to be found, and three royal ships were reported stolen. Officers from my rearguard unit confirmed sightings of these ships heading downstream two hours later. No deaths have been reported, although one body has been found, dead of apparent poisoning. Anyone with information is requested to step forward.” He nodded at William’s raised hand and continued, while William ignored the bewildered stares of his friends. “All missing town officials are accounted for. All were locked in office basements, aside from Lester Cairns, who was held in the Library map room. Injuries were minimal and treated with expertise and efficiency—thank you to Doctor Maya Melchior, whose presence was fortunate. At this time, I can report that the town is safe, and free of the rebels who perpetrated this crime.”
“Thank you, Major,” said the earl as Bentsen sat. “The purpose of this crime was simple theft. In addition to a few valued personal possessions, this spring’s tax collection was stolen, and is presumably floating away on a stolen ship as I speak. The amount is in excess of ten thousand gold crowns, and while this may seem like a personal tragedy, I want to point out a few things that may occur as a result of this theft. First, replacing our now depleted guard will be next to impossible. Second, dock repairs will have to wait at least a year. Third, the extension of paved roads east of Marshland Crossing will be delayed or canceled. Lastly, I may be forced to raise additional levies to cover necessary costs.”
“But we’ve already paid our taxes!” yelled someone from the back.
Bradford fondled his gavel but refrained from banging it. “Most of you have, yes. But additional taxes can be levied in an emergency, and this certainly qualifies. That’s not what I want to do, but taxes are needed to keep the town functioning. This is about more than my personal wealth, although that’s been affected as well, as it will many of yours indirectly. And even if it doesn’t affect your purse, there is another point to consider. Naidu—explain what happens when a town runs out of money.”
A scrawny brown-skinned man stood, and William recognized him as the town manager. “Most of you know who I am,” he said. “But few of you know what I and my people do. That’s because if we do our jobs properly, you never notice us. We fix ruts in dirt roads, clear debris from storms, replace broken bricks in the market square. If I can’t pay my workers, dead animals will remain in the gutters, horse dung will stay where it is. I could go on, but you get the picture. A dirty town is unsafe and unhealthy.”
“That’s the stick,” said the earl as Naidu sat. “Now for the carrot. I am offering a reward equal to one tenth of any recovered money or personal possessions.”
A murmur rose from the benches as people began talking amongst themselves. William’s mind raced. A thousand crowns would safeguard his barony for years. He couldn’t do it alone of course, meaning he’d have to split the reward. But was it worth the danger that would surely be involved?
“You aren’t really considering it, are you?” whispered Jack as he leaned toward William.
William squirmed in his seat. “I’m not sure. Be quiet; I want to hear what he’s saying.”
Earl Bradford waited for the noise to subside and continued. “One more thing. Unless this money is recovered, all tax deferrals are canceled.”
William sat in shocked silence. The earl had spoken to the whole room, but he knew the comment was directed at him. The reward was almost inconsequential now—he needed that deferral to keep the barony running and to replace the millstone. Was Earl Bradford trying to force his hand?
A man yelled from the back. “How can we catc
h them? We ain’t got no boats, and even if we did, we couldn’t go any faster than they do.”
“What about horses?” asked another man.
“Don’t be silly,” answered a woman. “There’s not enough of us with horses to face that lot. With or without horses, we couldn’t stop them here, so how could we stop them when they’re floating by on a ship?”
Several grumbles of agreement arose around them. Finally, someone asked, “Why doesn’t the Guard handle this?”
Major Bentsen cleared his throat. “We will do our utmost, but as someone mentioned, there aren’t enough of us on horseback, and the rest can’t catch up to them. Time is a factor. Once the thieves reach Faywater Bay, they’ll be difficult to find, let alone capture. The bay is eighty miles across, dotted with islands and rugged coast. They must be stopped on the river before they reach the open sea, or they’ll escape for good.”
“Meeting adjourned,” said Earl Bradford as he banged the gavel. He gave William a long stare before leaving the dais, the other officials following after him. The meeting hall began to clear, but William remained, gazing into nothing as he pondered the possibilities.
“I don’t like the look on your face,” said Jack, interrupting William’s thoughts. “You’re planning something, and I just know I’ll have to save you again.”
“We don’t have to stop them ourselves,” said William, more to himself than to anybody else.
“What?” asked Jack. “Don’t be an idiot. We can’t do this ourselves. Even if we reach them in time, how exactly do we stop them?”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 20
