“Butler is an exalted position in this house,” explained Vincent. “I hope you can be comfortable here.”
“I’ll do my best, uh…Vincent,” said Oz, looking as though he’d prefer to crawl under the table rather than utter a nobleman’s name.
Wine and water were served immediately, footmen gliding around the table with impossible grace. Glasses were filled with the least intrusion, with never a drop spilled or clumsy sound made. Vincent turned to William as a thin soup was served. “This stolen tax money—how much was it?”
“In excess of ten thousand crowns,” said William. “Or so says Earl Bradford.”
“And the earl has offered a reward?”
“Ten percent.”
Vincent gave a rueful half-smile. “I wouldn’t put it past Bradford to understate the amount so as to reduce the reward, but we’ll let the number stand for the moment. The important question is who’s behind this? And why?”
William sat back and breathed a huge sigh. “I wish I knew,” he said. “The whole matter has been confusing from the start. The truth is, we have no solid facts to go on.”
“Trust your intuition, William,” said Vincent. “Your initial reports from the Library on bandit activity caught my attention because you determined the truth from information that appeared unconnected. You had no new facts, but you rearranged the existing facts in a way that led to a correct conclusion. Maybe you can work that magic again.”
“All I have is a hunch. Nothing more than a guess.”
“Then let’s hear it,” said Vincent, tapping the table lightly for emphasis. “If you can support your hunch with facts, we’ll use it as a working hypothesis.”
William took a deep breath. “Very well. As Lester Cairns said to me, this doesn’t seem like a simple robbery. Ten thousand crowns is a huge amount of money, at least to me, but given the number of people involved, it couldn’t have been for personal gain.”
“How do you mean?” asked Vincent.
“Dozens of guards were involved. From what Sir Hendrick told us, many of his veterans were promoted away and replaced with new recruits from the Faywater Academy. That means not only were the guards themselves involved, but also some of their superiors. The same is true for the earl’s office staff. That two high-ranking officials in two different professions should be involved in the same crime feels less like a robbery than a rebellion.”
“A rebellion?” said Vincent with a raised eyebrow. “Isn’t that a stretch? A rebellion involves overthrowing an entire government. These folks occupied one town and gave it up later without a fight. How can you call that a rebellion?”
William drummed his fingers on the table as he considered his response. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said finally. “It sounds like I’m calling it a rebellion because it looked like a small one. But that’s not what I’m saying. I believe this was merely preparation for the real thing.”
Vincent gaped at him, his eyes sharp with interest. “Now that’s a dramatic statement,” he said.
“An overstatement, if you ask me,” said Jack. “Preparation for what, Will? None of the guards involved can ever show their faces here. And any sort of practice they had is useless because they’ll never be guards again.”
“Not necessarily,” said William. “They can change their names and go somewhere else easily enough. Plenty of people lived under assumed names in Rebel Falls; I should know because I took the census. But I wasn’t talking about practice—I meant preparation.”
“What sort of preparation?” asked Vincent.
William’s face turned red. “I don’t know yet.”
Nobody laughed at him, but Jack shook his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I haven’t concluded anything,” said William defensively. “I was asked for my hunches, and I’m giving them.”
“It’s worth exploring,” said Vincent, giving William an encouraging smile. “Presuming your hunch is true, who would be behind this rebellion?”
William looked across the table at Rachel. Her face remained stony, her eyes giving nothing away. She wasn’t ready to say anything—that much was clear. He was on his own in this matter, and would need to give his own evidence, scanty though it was. He turned to Vincent again. “You’ll recall I had some experience with rebels. In fact, we named a town after them.”
Vincent chuckled. “My dear William, no one will forget that fact for generations.”
William turned red again but pressed on. “I spent a good deal of time with Kaleb Antony, their leader. He never mentioned any names, but he made clear to me that someone else—not him—would replace Duncan Thorsten as king of Esper, and that his group was one of many preparing for an eventual rebellion. We only ran into them and spoiled their plans out of simple luck.”
“You found them within fifty miles of your report’s estimate,” said Vincent. “That doesn’t sound like luck.”
“Maybe so, but we weren’t even looking for them. We simply stumbled into their camp on the way home from the mission. We had no intention of finding either bandits or rebels.”
“What’s your point?” asked Jack. “You seem to be taking the long way around to it.”
William turned to Jack with a look of impatience. “My point is that we never found any other such camps, anywhere on Esper, at least not to my knowledge.”
“Nor to mine,” said Vincent. “And the council of dukes would certainly be informed if they were.”
William nodded and pressed on. “So that means, if we’re to believe what Antony told me, there must still be an active rebellion growing throughout Esper.”
Silence filled the room. The only sound was the gentle clink of metal on plates as the footmen served a course of lamb. When the footmen departed, Vincent spoke again, his voice solemn. “Of course there is.”
“You know this for sure?” asked Jack, who appeared stunned at the revelation.
“It’s an inevitable conclusion, Jack,” said Vincent. “And I know your father thinks so too. More importantly, the council of dukes views this matter seriously, though we rarely speak of it outside our meetings with the prime minister. Even the king isn’t included in these conversations. William, you’ve impressed me once again. You’ve concluded in ten minutes what took the council more than three years. Now, perhaps you can go one step further, a step the council hasn’t yet made. Who is leading this rebellion?”
William stole another glance at Rachel and got the same stony expression as before. He carried on anyway, pausing a moment to reflect first. “After I was rescued, Sir Hendrick and I tried to guess at Antony’s plans. Sir Hendrick tried some unsavory methods of extracting the truth, but none of Antony’s men knew or admitted anything about who their ultimate leader was. Still, Sir Hendrick shared his hunch with me: Zander Bertrand.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up. “Duke Zander of Stansby?”
“Acting Duke,” said Rachel, surprising even herself with what seemed like an angry, automatic response.
“Until the king confirmed him,” corrected Vincent. “You know your politics well, young lady, although from your accent I’d say it was local politics for you.”
Rachel shrugged, reverting to her earlier blank expression.
Vincent continued. “William, Duke Zander may have reached his position by questionable means, and many citizens of Stansby like Rachel were distraught by it, but he is one of King Duncan’s most fervent supporters. Whenever the king needs something—an investigation, a committee chaired, additional guards—Zander provides it before anyone else thinks to volunteer. He handles more of Duncan’s responsibilities than Duncan does himself.”
Jack scratched his chin and frowned. “Aren’t responsibility and power almost the same thing?”
“Almost,” agreed Vincent. “But not quite. Perhaps Zander does it as penance for how he obtained his position. Or maybe it’s payment for Duncan confirming his claim. Regardless, he is doing the kingdom a kindness.”
; “Sounds like my father,” said Oz, who quickly covered his mouth, mortified at his own outburst. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Oz, you’re a guest at my table and have every right to speak,” said Vincent. “I’m puzzled though, and I apologize if this sounds indelicate, but given that you’re a butler, it seems unlikely that your father was a nobleman. Was he?”
“No, sir,” said Oz, regaining his composure. “Just a drunk.”
“How does it sound like your father, Oz?” asked William. “I’m not doubting you,” he added quickly. “I’m just puzzled.”
Oz hesitated a moment, as though searching for the right words. “Dad would wake up late most mornings, usually hungover. He would search the house for beer or wine, and sometimes he’d find it. Other times he’d have to go out looking for it. But his reason was always the same: so he could feel good enough to work and earn money for food and rent. But as soon as he started drinking, he wanted more. Pretty soon he’d be drunk enough to start a fight, and that’s when I had to leave the house. I learned some pretty bad things from him, and then I started doing bad things to other people.” He shot a shameful glance at William. “Anyway, it sounds like what this duke is doing—making an excuse to do what he was going to do anyway, because he can’t get enough of it.” He stared at his plate for several seconds. “He could never get enough.”
Vincent nodded thoughtfully. “Power and alcohol—both powerful drugs, and only those who don’t need them should have them. That’s insightful of you, Oz. I’m still not convinced Zander’s our man, though.”
“What would convince you?” asked William.
Vincent sat back and shrugged. “Some evidence we don’t have now, I suppose. I know he has the skill to pull it off—I’ve never known such a magnetic leader—but I don’t see why. What would he gain? He’s a confirmed duke with noble blood, even royal blood. Why would he risk what he has to commit a crime against lesser noblemen?”
“For power,” said Rachel as she stared at her wine glass. “Like Oz said.”
Vincent laughed in exasperation. “But he has plenty of power!”
Rachel looked up and met his gaze. “Not enough. Not anywhere near enough.”
The duke’s intense gaze softened into revelation. “You aren’t just another citizen of Stansby, are you? You’re close to him—related, in fact. Aren’t you?”
The last of her reticence melted as she looked away and fidgeted with her wine glass. “I introduced myself to you as Rachel Malen,” she said. “I use my grandmother’s maiden name to protect my identity, but my true family name is Bertrand.”
Vincent gasped. “You’re his daughter.”
Rachel nodded and returned her gaze to her wine.
“You didn’t tell me this so you could defend him, did you?” asked Vincent in a soft voice. “You don’t hide your identity out of pride either. And yet, you appear to desperately want to tell me something.”
Rachel snorted in derision. “Wanting has nothing to do with it. But you’re the first person I’ve met with both the sense to believe it and the authority to do something, so I suppose I should risk it.” She drained her glass, held it for the footman to fill, then swallowed another gulp. “I vowed not to oppose my father in any way, including telling anyone what I know about him. That vow is the only reason I am free right now instead of locked away in his manor. Until now I’ve pretended to myself that I was simply observing, or following Will on an unrelated adventure. By speaking to you, I’m breaking my vow and risking my life. Before I continue, tell me honestly—will you keep this secret, and never reveal that you heard it from me?”
“Of course,” said Vincent. “But would he really harm his own daughter?”
A small smile crossed her lips, but her eyes remained cold. “He would cut off his own arm if it meant sitting on the throne a day earlier.”
William shivered as Rachel’s words hung in the air. Her statement was simple enough, but she said it with such force and clarity that he was left with little doubt of its truth. No wonder she’d been so secretive, so unwilling to let slip even the slightest detail of where she went, or what she did.
Vincent was first to speak, breaking the spell that had fallen on them. “What makes your father think he’s entitled to the throne?”
“You mentioned my father’s royal blood. You left out that his great grandmother Nora was King Stephen’s eldest daughter—his eldest child. If it wasn’t for the council’s preference for sons over daughters, he would have inherited the throne through her. Instead, the throne went to Thomas, and the kingdom slid from greatness into mediocrity, and finally into stagnation. My father claims the kingdom would prosper again under his reign.”
“But it already is prospering again,” said Vincent.
“Only because of a stupid accident,” she shot back. “Duncan has nothing to do with it. We did—Will, Jack, Maya, Charlie, and me. Not that I want him overthrown, but what has Duncan himself done to improve his subjects’ lives?”
“That’s a different discussion,” said Vincent. “But what has your father actually said or done to convince you he’s seeking the throne for himself?”
Rachel snorted again. She lifted her hand and began counting on her fingers. “First, he told me a long time ago that rebellions need money. He hadn’t told me yet about his own plans, but it was part of a history lesson he taught me himself. He seemed anxious for me to learn this particular lesson, because he repeated it several times. Second, he confided in me when I turned sixteen—and he intends for me to succeed him. Lastly, since he allowed me to leave, I’ve traveled all over Esper, searching for and finding more campsites like Kaleb Antony’s. I couldn’t show my face, of course, because too many of his allies know me, like Antony did. But a hunter knows how to move through the forest unseen and spy from a distance. More than once I watched my father ride into those campsites, reveling in their applause. Those campsites are recruiting stations for my father’s rebellion, and I followed some of those recruits back to where they came from: the Matrillia Guard Academy.”
“Queen’s jewels!” Vincent’s face turned white. “Right under our noses…”
“Vincent, can you speak to the king about this?” asked William.
“And say what?” asked Vincent. “I may believe Rachel, but I have no proof. Even if I did, Duncan wouldn’t do anything. It’s near treason to say this, but you must be aware of what his detractors call him.”
“Coward,” said William with a grimace.
“And what would a coward do in such a situation?” asked Vincent. “If anything, he might embrace the man in order to avoid danger and to solve the problem of not having an heir.”
“That can’t happen!” said Rachel with a vehemence William had never before witnessed in her.
“Because he’d be such a terrible king?” asked Vincent. “Or because you don’t want to sit on the throne after him?”
Rachel raised her hands in refusal. “I definitely don’t want to be queen, but the council would never confirm a woman, so I’m in no danger of that. No, I mean my father cannot become king. You’ve seen his pleasant side, the face he shows in public, even when he wants something and can’t take it by right. But once he controls something, he squeezes every drop of usefulness from it, and that includes people. Those guards he sent to steal the tax money—he threw away their careers and would think nothing about throwing away their lives. He would call it a sacrifice for the greater good and never lose a minute of sleep. It would be the same with the kingdom itself. He claims he’d be a good king, that he’d bring prosperity to all of Esper, and maybe he even believes it. And I’m sure he loved my mother when he married her, but once he had her, all he cared about was what she could provide him—a dukedom and an heir.”
A dull ache gripped William’s heart now that he understood the source of Rachel’s anger toward her father. It wasn’t political, or even practical, but purely personal. Who had suffered more? Him, for losing
a good father at a young age, or her for having the father she did?
“Regardless, we cannot oppose him directly,” said Vincent. “The king will do nothing, and one duke has no jurisdiction over another. We must apply the same means he does: stealth. And we may have to be just as ruthless. Zander has two means by which he might become king, and I sense he is attempting both. One is to convince the childless Duncan to name him his heir; the second is to revolt as soon as he is strong enough. This stolen gold is no doubt meant for weapons and recruitment, for spies and moles. I’ll do my part. I have the prime minister’s ear, and as duke of what is becoming the wealthiest dukedom on Esper, I am well-situated to fight this secret rebellion.”
“We’ll do what we can as well,” said William.
“We will?” asked Jack.
“Of course we will,” said Rachel with a glare. “We can’t do nothing. That’s what I’ve done for too long. Yes, that means work—as well as inconvenience, and probably even danger. My life is in danger simply by agreeing to this. But Jack—if you want to be with me, you have to be WITH me.”
William did his best to pretend he wasn’t listening. This was an intensely private moment for two people already reluctant to share details about their relationship. For Rachel to speak about it told William how strongly she felt.
Jack placed his hand on hers. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re not here for me!” she said as she pulled her hand away. “You’re here to help Will!”
“Okay, you’re right,” he countered. “I came here to stop Will from doing something stupid. But if you’re serious, and Vincent is serious, count me in. I still don’t know what we need to do though.”
“The first step is getting the tax money back,” said William. “If it gets into Zander’s hands, who knows what he can do with it.”
“Yes, the money is important,” said Vincent. “Not just because it helps Zander, but also because losing it hurts Marshland. Earl Bradford wasn’t wrong about what he said. But more than this, we need to collect evidence of Zander’s treachery. Once we have solid proof, I can bring it to the council and we can present a united front to Duncan.”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 25
