Agent of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Hardy said, “Supposed to be one for every soldier plus a hundred more as spares.”

  Telaine dragged an unopened crate away from the rest—they were heavy, and Hardy had to help her—and began to disassemble the first weapon. “I didn’t think you had so many soldiers here,” she said.

  “We’re temporarily understaffed. Had a problem with the paperwork for some transfers. We’re expecting a bunch of new troops in a few weeks.” He pulled up a crate and sat down. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m transferring out after the snows end.”

  “Are you happy about that?” Telaine said. She already knew the answer.

  “Damn—I mean, very happy, begging your pardon, miss. Been here nearly a year and I’m ready to get back to civilization. Someplace that ain’t cold and wet eight months out of twelve. You hear that?” The rain was coming down fiercely now and Telaine could hear it hitting the ground like hail, pounding the roof above her head. “It’s full autumn now and it rains so much we got moss growing on anything sits still long enough. Then the snows close down the passes for four, five months or more. A man can go out of his mind cooped up here that long.”

  “But if the passes are closed, you don’t have to be as worried about attacks, right?”

  “We don’t worry about attacks at all. Never seen the Ruskalder put so much as a nose hair past the edge of Thorsten Pass.” Hardy leaned back against the wall, apparently not remembering how he’d railed against the wet moments before, because dampness had begun to spread across the stones of the tower. “All these weapons shipments, they’re a waste of time if you ask me. New weapons every year when we haven’t even fired the old ones.”

  “They probably send the old ones to other forts,” Telaine said. She snapped the case back into place and set it well to one side. It took three times as long to disassemble and reassemble a weapon as it did to make the repair, and with all the guns being identical, she didn’t want to open one and find she’d already fixed it.

  “Probably,” said Hardy. He realized his back was wet and cursed, then apologized.

  “So are all these towers full of weapons?” Telaine asked.

  Hardy laughed. “Not hardly. Food, dry rations, clothing and blankets, armor and helmets. Stuff to take us through the winter. The storage towers are bursting at the seams these days, just before the passes close.”

  “That makes sense.” The young man had to be wrong. Based on the letters she’d found, Harroden was sending far too many shipments up the mountain to fit into the locked storeroom at the manor, however big it was. Some of those shipments were undoubtedly in the fort’s towers. Though if she was right about Hardy’s loyalties, his ignorance made sense; Captain Clarke would disapprove strenuously of his fort being used to store the Baron’s black market goods.

  So the captain believed these were all legitimate shipments; what did he think of the ones that went out again, to be sold in Highton or possibly Silverfield? Not only wasn’t she finding answers, she kept finding new questions.

  Telaine closed up another gun. Eight left in this crate. Thirty-nine crates to go. If she’d actually cared about this job, she’d have curled up and died inside to think of the tedium. She cast about for another innocuous but telling question. “The Baron seems deeply involved in the fort’s affairs,” she said.

  It was the wrong question. Hardy went stiff. “Not my place to comment on my superior officer, not that he is,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” she said. “Only the other day he and Captain Clarke were talking, and it sounded like—”

  “Not my place to comment,” Hardy said. “Don’t poke your nose in the Baron’s affairs, is my advice.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Telaine said, and repaired five more guns in silence. She already knew Clarke didn’t have the control over his soldiers and his fort that he ought to have, and that he and the Baron didn’t agree on things. But Hardy made it sound as if the Baron’s involvement was more serious than the superficially civil conversation she’d heard the other day suggested. Was he afraid to talk about it for his own sake, or for his captain’s? Either way, she needed to regain his trust. It was possible she could get him to open up over time.

  “Do you know where you’ll be stationed next, Lieutenant?” she asked, and guided him into a conversation about postings he’d had and the ones he liked best, and did he have a girlfriend, and how did his family feel about his joining the military. The tension between them dissipated, and Telaine relaxed, feeling Lieutenant Hardy might turn out to be a valuable asset after all.

  By the time she finished the first crate, it was dinnertime and Telaine was ravenous. She discovered, almost too late, that no provision had been made for her meal. She trekked back down the valley, telling herself she’d get Maida to make her up a box dinner next time; it was too far to walk back and forth.

  She devoured her food and raced back up to the fort, and managed to finish another two crates as darkness fell. She’d never walked alone down the valley after dark, and even though the rain had stopped, it was still cold and she wasn’t wearing a cloak or even a jacket. When she realized someone else was on the road, approaching her, she had to control her panic. Morgan. He wouldn’t be on foot, but who else could it be?

  “I’d started to worry about where you were,” said Ben. “Knew you weren’t dressed warm enough, and then it got dark.” He put a coat, and then his arm, around her shoulders. “You are cold,” he said, touching her cheek. His hand felt like a brand, it was so hot. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

  She leaned into his embrace, too tired to think. “It’s been a long day,” she said. “I think I need some warmer clothes. Didn’t reckon I’d be in Longbourne this long.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry you’re still here,” he replied. He steered her down the road and into the tavern, where he asked Maida for some whiskey. Telaine sat at a table and laid her head down on her folded arms. “Sit up and drink this,” Ben said, sliding his hand under her cheek and lifting her head. She drank, sputtered, and the world came back into focus.

  Maida slid a plate of roasted chicken breast and boiled carrots in front of her, handed her a fork and knife. Telaine thought she could eat the plate as well, she was that hungry. She ate in silence, feeling Ben’s amused eyes on her. “Don’t know what you think is so funny,” she mumbled through a mouthful of carrots.

  “Never seen anyone go at their food quite so determined,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I’ve been taking apart guns and putting them back together all day. I’m starving.” She cut off some chicken and took an enormous bite.

  “Guns?”

  She nodded. “Damaged shipment. Baron wants me to fix ’em rather than waste time sending ’em back.”

  “Don’t you think that’s the sort of thing their captain would decide?”

  It was exactly what she’d been thinking, but she couldn’t tell him she was spying on the Baron to find things like that out. “I suppose,” she said, “but the captain and the Baron sound like they have an arrangement.”

  “You want more to eat, Lainie?” Maida said, setting down a mug of beer. “Here’s something to wash it down with.”

  Telaine took a long drink. She was full, warm, and happy. She looked up at Maida, who seemed concerned. And Ben had worried enough to come looking for her. The whiskey welled up into tears she had to choke down. “You are both being so nice to me,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “What are friends for?” Maida said with a shrug, and went back to the bar. Ben took Telaine’s free left hand, removed the fork from her right and grasped that hand too.

  “I think you should know,” he said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving hers, “that I will always come after you.”

  There went the tears again. One whiskey and half a beer shouldn’t be enough to leave her a weepy drunk, right? “I promise not to make you do it too often,” she said.

  He smiled at her, that wonderful, brilliant smile. “Don’t
know if it’s good or bad that I made you cry.”

  “They’re good tears,” she said. She knew she had the sappiest grin on her face, but she didn’t care.

  He squeezed her hands. “Wish we had someplace private to go,” he said. “Getting too cold outside for the lake.”

  “You have a house,” she pointed out.

  He smiled again, but shook his head. “Too hard for me to remain a gentleman, there,” he said.

  He was worried about being a gentleman. He’d come looking for her in the dark. He’d held the door for her and stood up to a giant for her. He was almost too good to be true.

  “Lainie? Are you all right?” Ben’s smile fell away. “You just had the strangest expression. Did I—should I not have suggested that…” He took a drink of her beer. “I don’t want you to think I want anything from you we shouldn’t do—”

  She reclaimed her hand and laid it across his cheek. “I know,” she said. “But I love that you find me desirable. I trust you, Ben.”

  He turned his face enough to kiss her hand. “I want to be worthy of your trust.”

  Almost too good to be true.

  “Lainie, are you all right? You’ve still got that strange look.”

  “Better than all right,” she said. “Will you walk me home?”

  ***

  “Why are those crates out in the open, lieutenant?”

  Hardy glanced across the yard. “Too big to fit into storage, likely.”

  “Do you know what’s in them?”

  His lips thinned. “Baron’s private stuff. Too big for the manor, too.”

  She’d have to tread carefully. “Well, I hope whatever’s in them is waterproof. Didn’t know it’d be so rainy today.”

  Hardy unbent when he realized she wasn’t going to press him about their contents. “They’ve been coming up the mountain all summer, every couple of weeks. Got the Baron’s name on ’em but they always come straight here.”

  “I’ve been to the manor. You’re right, they wouldn’t fit through any of the doors.” She put together one last gun and stretched. “I think I’m getting faster. Don’t tell anyone, but this is really boring work.” Hardy, whose job of watching her was even more boring, grinned at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, lieutenant. Maybe I can teach you how to take these apart, make the work go faster.”

  “I don’t know, Miss Bricker, I’m all thumbs on both my hands.”

  “Don’t be surprised if you’re better than you think.”

  She returned the next morning and went straight to what she now thought of as her tower, but Lieutenant Hardy wasn’t there to meet her. She leaned against the door and waited for five minutes before becoming impatient. If Captain Clarke weren’t so fixated on regulations, she wouldn’t need to wait on Hardy to do her job. She caught herself. Repairing guns was not her job. Finding the contraband was.

  She wandered through the keep, acting as if she had a right to be there, and every time she passed near one of the towers, she surreptitiously tugged on the iron ring of its door handle. But the doors never budged. She reached the end of the row and turned around, still sauntering. Ahead, she saw Captain Clarke entering the fort and heading straight for the stone keep. He was walking like he wanted to tear into someone. Telaine moved faster. The captain would know what had happened to Hardy.

  She passed the soldiers, who ignored her as usual, and slipped inside. Two people were arguing loudly—Captain Clarke and the Baron. She grabbed the door and eased it silently shut, though it was unlikely they could hear it over the sound of their shouting.

  “Hardy’s transfer wasn’t due for another six months!”

  “Were you going to stand in the way of a good soldier’s good fortune?”

  “It’s that good fortune I question. Hardy was one of my best men. Why did you sign off on his transfer? That’s my responsibility!”

  “What are you alleging, captain?”

  “Only what I’ve suspected all this time. You want control of this post and you’re willing to transfer away men loyal to me to get that control.”

  “Careful what you say, captain. You’re accusing me of disloyalty. I only want what’s best for this command.”

  “I decide what’s best for this command, milord. You’re the civilian government representative who’s to provide support.”

  “Unless the military commander is unfit for the role.”

  “Are you saying I’m unfit?”

  “Take a look around, captain.” The Baron’s voice was the vicious snarl she’d heard him use against Harroden. “The men are slovenly and disrespectful. They don’t drill and they don’t maintain their weapons. If you were the commander you say you are, you’d have this place running like a Device. Tell me, at whose door should I lay this monstrous abrogation of responsibility? Do you think anyone will believe you are not an incompetent clown when I bring these matters to the attention of General Riesland?”

  There was a pause. “Milord, I will resign my commission as soon as a replacement can be found.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man. You were a sharp commander when you came here three years ago. I believe you can be such again.” The voice had gone from vicious to silky smooth. “And I see no reason why we shouldn’t work together to bring the fort back into shape.”

  Another pause, then Clarke said, wearily, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Why don’t you start with regular drills? Let me handle the supply side of things, the non-military side. You’ll have your hands full with the men.”

  “What about Hardy? I don’t want to see any more good men transferred out of here. I depended on him to keep order with the enlisted men.”

  “Don’t worry, captain. I promise you won’t need to worry about it anymore.”

  That sounded like her cue to make her presence known. Telaine opened the door a crack and closed it as noisily as she could, strode out of the passageway and stopped as if surprised to see them there. “I beg your pardon, milord, captain,” she said. “I couldn’t find Lieutenant Hardy so I came here looking for him.”

  “Lieutenant Hardy received an early transfer,” Captain Clarke said, trying and failing to conceal his anger. “I’ll find you another guide.”

  “Now, surely that’s not necessary,” the Baron said with a smile. It revolted Telaine that he could act so friendly after being so vicious to the captain. “Miss Bricker has more than demonstrated her loyalty, and I see no reason she shouldn’t be allowed to work unsupervised. Don’t you agree, captain?” His voice remained pleasant, but Telaine could see the look he gave Clarke, and it had knives in it.

  “Very well,” Clarke said woodenly. He handed her the huge iron key. “Get on with your work, Miss Bricker.”

  “And I will get on with mine,” said the Baron. “I believe these supply manifests need organizing. Yes, Miss Bricker, I realize it’s not exactly a task befitting nobility,” he said, misinterpreting her appalled look, “but it’s just another way I can serve my kingdom.”

  He was pouring it on too thick, Telaine thought as she started in on the morning’s crate. In fact, he seemed entirely too cheerful. Only a few days before he’d been annoyed with her for delaying her work to go to Ellismere, then she hadn’t seen him or Morgan since. And now here he was doing a menial task with every appearance of enjoyment. Something had changed. He hadn’t gone down the mountain, someone would have noticed, but what—

  “You’re not cold, are you, Miss Bricker? Because I’m sure I could find a way to take care of that,” said Morgan, startling her.

  “It is chilly in here, thanks, Mister Morgan,” she said, trying to sound innocently naïve, though his sudden appearance made her hands tremble.

  Morgan slid around the crates and stood behind her. She focused on reassembling the gun in her hands and pretended not to notice him. “Let’s see if I can…warm you up.”

  His hands went around her waist and pulled her close to his body, then he ran his palm over her stomach and up toward he
r breasts. She could feel every ridge of the muscles of his abdomen and, horribly, the hard rounded contours of what lay below his abdomen. She squealed and spun around with the reassembled gun in her hand, “accidentally” pressing it to his throat.

  Morgan froze. Before he could remember that the gun wasn’t loaded, Telaine slid sideways out of his grasp and lowered the weapon. “Mister Morgan, I’m sorry, but I know I’ve asked you to stop that,” she said, trying not to let her fear show. “It’s so hard for me to work when you do that.”

  Morgan rearranged his face into its usual slow, lazy smile. “I see I should take you more seriously, Miss Bricker,” he said.

  Telaine backed out of the storage room, and he followed her. “I’ll have to catch you some other time when you’re less…preoccupied with work.” He stopped as he passed her, ran his finger down the side of her face, and raised an eyebrow coyly. “Certainly a time when your hands are less full.”

  Telaine watched him walk away, her heart beating painfully fast. That had been close. Morgan could have done anything he wanted to her in there. As indifferent as the soldiers were, she couldn’t count on them to rescue her if she screamed.

  She repacked the crate, not caring that she hadn’t finished her work for the day. She could still feel his hand, stroking her body. Her hands were shaking too much to crack open the gun casings, let alone hold the tiny tools. She was done.

  She walked slowly back to Longbourne, trying to dispel the memory of Morgan’s…body…pressed against her. She wrapped her new jacket around her against the chilly wind. It was overcast again, and a few flurries of snow blew about her face. When the first light snows fell, Telaine had panicked, but Eleanor had told her the big storms were a ways off and not to worry about it. It would be a late winter in the mountains.