And the wagons? Why hadn’t they drawn them up in a circle? And who was watching them? Surely, this group wasn’t foolish enough to leave its wagons unattended, which of course, meant there were yet more folks for whom Mardine had to account. Once she’d gotten about three-quarters of the way ‘round the fire, she finally spied the wagons, parked in a line along the path, stretching off into the night. Huh, so: her captors were not so bright, after all. Mardine decided to work her way through the trees until she’d reached the farthest wagon and then check them, one by one, ‘til she reached the wagon nearest the campfire.
That was her plan, anyway. She failed, as most people would under such circumstances, to consider the possible proximity of wasps, so that when she stepped onto their enormous underground hive, hiding in shadows was no longer an option. As big as she was, they would still kill her if she didn’t get away from them and quickly. Recognizing that her choices were limited, Mardine chose to lead them into the party around the fire, making the insects accidental allies instead of her potential executioners. Although wasps generally don’t like to fly after dark, their nest had been attacked, it was a warm evening, and their quarry led them directly to the bright light of a campfire. The smoke, of course, was something of a deterrent, but the plethora of large, sweaty targets proved too much to resist. The wasps followed in Mardine’s wake, as, with a tremendous howl, she raced into that light, grabbed a good-sized log off the woodpile and began swinging it at her tormentors – wasp and human alike. Pandemonium ensued. Some of the kidnappers tore off into the dark, some attacked Mardine, and some struggled to fight or defend themselves from the angry insects’ assault. Mardine felt a flash of pain and turned to see that a wickedly smiling Tresa had stabbed her in the backside. Without wasting a thought, the giantess pushed her one-time companion into the fire and noted with some satisfaction that the smile melted right off her face. The woman shrieked and endeavored to rise, but Mardine pushed her back down with an enormous foot. One of the other kidnappers tried to save Tresa, reached out a hand to the woman even as her entire body was engulfed in flames, but Mardine broke the man’s neck with her fire log. Another of the men had somehow drawn the bulk of the wasps’ attack and soon he was out-screaming Tresa. Still, a large number of the insects, along with two or three of the kidnappers, continued to battle with Mardine. She was taking a lot of damage, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. The important thing was –
Esmine screamed from somewhere amongst the wagons. It was the first time Mardine had heard her daughter’s voice in she couldn’t say how long, and she choked back a sob at the sound of it. With final, massive sweep of her log, she sent the last of her human opponents tumbling into the night and then ran in the direction of Esmine’s voice. She hurried past two or three wagons until she spotted one built like a cage on wheels. Even in the lack of light, she could see Esmine and Nelby inside, their arms locked around one another. Oh, how badly Mardine felt then! She rushed to the cage, smiled at her daughter and began to wrestle the door off its hinges. A strange clicking noise behind her alerted her to a new threat, right before she felt another colossal blow to her back. She staggered. How had they managed to rig up a log trap in the middle of…? The biggest arrow she’d ever seen protruded, juddering, from the wagon just beyond the cage. She could feel blood pounding in her ears, see it in her eyes. She turned. Her daughter’s captors had mounted an arbalest on the back of a wagon, and Mardine had stupidly walked right in front of it. She put a hand on her chest, now drenched in a geyser of blood. The arrow had gone right through her. Her knees gave out. She heard Esmine cry out again, not in fear, but in unspeakable sadness. And then Mardine heard no more.
*****
Lunessfor, North Hill District
The hours between sunset and sunrise had been pure bedlam. It was as if the city’s wealthiest families had been stricken by a mental illness of some sort. House Blackbyrne had been attacked and caught fire. House Hawsey sent a score of men to House Radcliffe and started a brawl at the front gates that resulted in the death of several men from both houses. The D’Escurzys were claiming a sorcerous attack had killed off the majority of the family’s ranking members, and House Fyne vociferously accused the other Houses of spying. The relative quiet at Houses Amberly, Gault and Thorton seemed a guilty silence to the stricken Houses, which responded, predictably, with righteous indignation. How was it, after all, on this night of mayhem and unabashed hysteria that three of the Great Eight had remained unmolested? Why had the other five suffered whilst they alone had not?
A mob of men from the first five Houses determined to even the score with the three unscathed. Standing atop his gates, Lord Darley Gault was quick to deflect the blame for the night’s tragedies upon House Amberly, and the credulous throng, overwhelmed by its lust for vengeance, set off to punish the Amberlys first, bombarding their gates with stones, bottles, and flaming offal. Soon, the vandalism and verbal sniping escalated into all-out conflict, with the various Houses staging open raids on one another until the constable and Lord Mayor were forced to intervene, imposing martial law in the city’s wealthier neighborhoods, much to the delight of Lunessfor’s less fortunate.
That night marked the beginning of a period the Great Eight would long remember with bitterness and suspicion.
*****
Long, House Thornton
The look on Chade Thornton’s face defied description, at least as far as Long was concerned. He’d crossed paths with a few of the wealthy and powerful over the years, and he’d never seen any of them as befuddled as His Lordship seemed to be. Standing before him, Chade had appeared on the brink of making a pronouncement on several occasions, only to reconsider, chew his lips and continue his evident ruminations. Eternity passed and he spoke.
“I’ll confess I’m flummoxed. Last night was the worst, most unpredictable in memory. I’d hardly credit the tale if I’d heard it from my own mother, but I witnessed much of the madness with my own eyes. The tension between the Eight has finally snapped, like a leather thong pulled to its limit.” He sighed. “Where it touches you, Captain Long, is that House D’Escurzy has placed a bounty on your head for murder.” He had Long’s attention now, and no mistake.
“Murder? How am I s’posed to have accomplished this while a prisoner in our House?”
“An excellent question. But no more pressing than that of how you managed to get yourself named heir to the D’Escurzy estate whilst languishing in my dungeons.”
What could Long say? Nothing. And nothing is precisely what he offered in response.
“It’s not a complete loss, however,” Chade remarked. “Before my brother’s death, I was studying to become a lawyer and, if I understand such matters correctly, the remaining D’Escurzys can no more place a bounty on the Head of House than they can disown themselves. If they can prove you’re guilty of these so-called murders, the matter of your punishment falls to the crown and none other. If they cannot prove your guilt and/or the charges prove false, you’ll be allowed to punish your accusers yourself, again, as Head of House.”
Long had gotten to his feet when His Lordship and his guards entered; now, he sank back onto to his bed – not out of disrespect, but confusion. “What’ll you do with me, then?”
Chade smiled. “I think I’ll collect that bounty, maybe take the constable along with me to see they don’t kill you outright.”
“No,” Long replied.
His Lordship cocked his head at an angle, like a man who’d just been slapped across the face by a small child. “No?” he repeated.
It was happening again. The mysterious wellspring of courage that came on unannounced and always seemed timed to cause Long maximum distress had returned. “Correct. I don’t think I’ll come willingly unless you sweeten the deal for me.”
Both of Chade’s guards moved to put Long in his place, but His Lordship reached out and restrained both men. With unmistakable reluctance, they stood down. Chade shook his head in wonderment. “T
hings just get stranger and stranger. I must say I’ve never seen a prisoner make demands of his captor before. What is it you think I’ll do for you?”
“I want Peppers to come along with me.”
“The fool in my dungeon?” Chade laughed heartily. “Gladly! Much joy may he bring you!”
“I have one other condition.”
The merriment went out of His Lordship’s voice so quickly, it was hard to believe it had ever been there in the first place. “Indeed?”
“I want your torturer, as well.”
Chade nodded. “You have a personal grudge with him. I understand. But I must needs remind you that he was only doing my bidding.”
Long scowled. “Makes no difference. He and I have unfinished business.”
His Lordship took a moment to examine his nails, the polish on his buttons, the links on the chain around his neck. “Done,” he said at last. “The three of you will be coming with me and a few of my best men in one hour’s time. Shortly thereafter, I will be even wealthier, whilst draining an enemy’s coffers, and you will be a new Lord…for however long you can make it last.”
Waiting in a dungeon with no hope of hope was one thing; enduring the hour between freedom and captivity, between life and possible death, between the life he’d known and the possible wealth and power of a Head of House was another altogether.
When the time to leave came, Long’s body seemed composed of water and naught else. There was no strength in his legs, no resolve in his belly, no stiffness in his spine. He passed out of his room and fell in amongst a large group of armed men. He got a fleeting glance at Peppers and was appalled to see the man entirely naked, save for an old, soiled stocking, hung precariously from his business. It seemed possible that insisting on Peppers’ company had been a mistake. Long sought out Janks and found him near the rear of the procession, his face a blank. Was Chade planning to go back on his agreement, or had he simply not informed Janks of his true purpose in coming along? Well, Long thought, I’ll find out soon enough.
The whole North Hill District looked like the aftermath of a huge party – or a riot; sometimes it was hard to tell the difference – to which Long hadn’t been invited. There was garbage everywhere – bottles, broken crockery, discarded clothing, damaged weapons, loose masonry, rotten produce, excrement and blood, plenty of blood. If there’d been bodies, they’d been removed by the time Chade and his company came through, and, in fact, there were roving groups of menial laborers cleaning the area as fast as they could. They looked strangely happy, but then it occurred to Long that they had reason for it: a mess that needed cleaning meant employment, and a mess in the rich neighborhood meant the wealthy had been introduced to the real world, however briefly. Perhaps it would humanize them.
Or not, Long thought. They’ll retreat behind their walls and their piles of gold and lick their wounds. Then he remembered that he, too, was about to retreat behind such walls – assuming he was able to take possession of the estate to which he’d been named heir. There was that little matter of the bounty on his head…
He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the company had come to a halt until someone yelled down at them from above.
“Who comes to House D’Escurzy with an armed guard? What’s your business here?”
“I’ve come to collect the bounty for the capture and delivery of Long Pete!” Chade replied heartily.
There was a brief pause, and then, “Is that so? I make out the sunwheel banners of House Thornton. Are you the Lord of the House, then?”
“I am,” Chade said without fear or hesitation.
Long wondered at his attitude when he made such an easy target for an arrow or spear, but suspected the last thing anyone in North Hill wanted was another outbreak of violence.
“A moment!” the voice atop D’Escurzy’s walls shouted down.
He’d had so many ‘final moments’ of life, Long didn’t even bother to dwell on what might be coming next.
A clattering, banging sound preceded the cautious opening of the estate’s massive front gates. Immediately, a small clump of armed men strode through the opening and approached Chade’s company.
A short, doughy-faced man in oversized armor stepped to the forefront of the D’Escurzy contingent. “’S a rather large group to come calling with.”
“After last night’s…festivities…it seemed the prudent thing to do. The streets are not yet safe for any of our families,” Chade answered.
“Mmmm,” Doughy nodded in agreement. When he scanned Chade’s companions, Long noticed the fellow was also a bit wall-eyed. “I don’t see Long Pete amongst your number,” the man said.
“Curious,” said Chade. “He is here, notwithstanding.” He waved his left hand slightly and two guards pushed Long forward, somewhat rougher than necessary.
Doughy looked at his fellows and then back to Chade. “That ain’t him,” he said coldly.
Chade turned to Long, an expression of surprise on his face, and then back to the D’Escurzys. “On the contrary!” he sang out. “This is the one and only Captain Long Peter Fendesst, late of Her Majesty’s army, under the service of one Colonel Bailis. This has been confirmed under torture and through other means, both magical and mundane.”
He was laying it on a bit thick, Long supposed, but the truth was the truth: he’d never met nor heard of another Long Pete in all his days.
“I am telling you,” Doughy said, “This is not the man’s been living in our House these past few weeks!”
Chade smiled his most winning smile. “That, friend, is not my problem. The bounty specified Long Pete, and Long Pete I would deliver.”
“And that ain’t him!”
“What’s this other Long Pete look like?” Long blurted out. Chade shot him a look of stern disapproval, but he let the question stand.
Again, the D’Escurzys exchanged looks.
“Well,” said their leader, “that’s the funny part. He…uh…” He turned to his companions, embarrassed, “Help me out, here.”
But they could not.
“Do you mean to tell me the man’s been living with you for weeks and you can’t identify him?”
The men in Chade’s company snickered openly, but he waved them silent.
“It’s awkward,” Doughy whined. “Most o’ those who knew him are dead.”
“And you’ve never seen him before?”
“I seen him plenty o’ times. I just…can’t…”
Chade was done with the fool. He approached another of the D’Escurzys, a tall, gaunt fellow with two-days’ growth of beard. “You, then. Have you ever seen Long Pete?”
“Two or three times, yes,” the man said.
“Describe him.”
“I…the thing is…” Then he, too, shook his head in frustration.
“Aha!” Chade cried, triumphantly, “But if you can’t describe our man, how can you be certain that my Long Pete – a man I’ve proven to be the genuine article – is not the one you’re looking for?”
“He doesn’t look familiar, that’s how!” Doughy countered, reasserting himself.
Chade got very close to the D’Escurzy leader and, in conspiratorial tones, said, “Look, we’ve all had a rough night – and none worse than your House. I can send for this Colonel Bailis, the constable and the Lord Mayor, or you can save yourselves further embarrassment and pay the bounty.”
These particular D’Escurzys, never having been put in positions of authority before, quickly huddled and whispered amongst themselves for several minutes, before Doughy returned to Chade’s side and said, “We concede.” He pulled an ornately folded document from his belt and handed it to His Lordship. “You’ll be able to cash that at Her Majesty’s bank,” he said with a trace of bitterness.
“Don’t take it so poorly!” Chade said cheerfully. “I’m including a bonus of two additional men – a mad poet and my personal torturer.”
Doughy sneered at the first, but brightened at the second. “Your tor
turer, eh? Might get some use out ‘o him.”
Chade’s guards escorted Long, Peppers and Janks out of their ranks and up to the D’Escurzy gate. Just as Chade made to depart, he turned back to the unhappy D’Escurzy gang and said, “Oh, and don’t think of murdering His Lordship, Long Pete. I’ve communicated the situation to the crown, through Her Majesty’s Shaper, and in order to carry out the death sentence you’ve placed upon him, you’ll have to put him on trial, with Her Majesty presiding. And, as I think you know, she’s too ill to do anything for the time being. You can imprison him, of course, but I gather you’ve suffered enormous losses in your House leadership, and you could do worse than tolerate a decorated military officer as Head of House.” With that, Chade pivoted on his heel and sauntered off, whistling happily. His men fell in behind him and, in no time, the Thorntons receded from view.
Doughy stared at Long Pete, a sour look on his face. “Welcome home, your Lordship.”
As Flies to Wanton Boys (Immortal Treachery Book 2) Page 36
