Agent of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “Wait here,” Telaine said, and ran up to her room to get her box of gifts. She came back and handed Liam a wrapped package. “Happy Wintersmeet,” she said.

  He tore the wrapping off. “Lainie, you didn’t make a watch—” he began.

  “It’s a stretch, I know, but I didn’t have a lot to work with and Aunt Weaver let me raid her store room. I got it working and added something extra.” She pushed a button at the bottom of the case and her own voice said, in a tinny peal, This watch belongs to Liam Richardson.

  He jumped, held the watch out at arm’s length, and pushed the button again, laughing at the sound of her voice. “This is the strangest Wintersmeet gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said. “And I definitely think it counts as being made by you.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “You want to make the rounds with me? I came here first.”

  “If you’ll wait a few minutes for me to finish eating and put my coat on, yes.”

  They walked through the tunnels, calling out cheerful greetings to passersby, Telaine with her box and Liam with a basket over his arm that looked almost dainty. All of her tavern friends received some kind of watch—Aunt Weaver was a bit of a packrat—that spoke; Jack Taylor blushed and his friends roared with laughter when the little button produced Telaine’s sultriest voice proclaiming Jack Taylor is a handsome devil. It was the Princess’s only contribution to the holiday.

  Out of a caster wheel casing Telaine produced a self-winding seamstress’s tape for Josephine, who in return handed her an elegant dove-colored silk blouse. She gave Maida a new tap that measured exactly the amount of beer to pour into a mug, with the promise of more if the first one worked out, and Maida gave Telaine a small keg of her favorite dark beer, brewed by Maida herself. Little Hope got a wooden rabbit on wheels that sped around the floor on its own, with Hope laughing and chasing it, always just out of her reach.

  Telaine had thought hard about what to give Eleanor, but in the end, the choice was obvious: Eleanor received the first self-warming blanket, put together from an old quilt from the store room and the last of the copper wire. Eleanor had knitted Telaine a patterned sweater of green and black that was as soft as Aunt Weaver’s scarf.

  She had expected to see Ben long before she reached his house, which she’d saved for last, but he wasn’t part of the crowd thronging the streets. She had to knock on his door twice before he responded, his hair tousled, stubble covering his chin, his eyes bleary. “Lainie,” he said, as if surprised not only by her presence on his doorstep but by her existence in general. “What time is it?”

  “I gave away the last of my watches, so I don’t know,” she replied. “Half past ten?”

  “Half past—wait a minute.” He shut the door. Telaine stood there. She waited for far longer than a minute. She went from curious to annoyed to concerned. What was he doing in there?

  The door opened. “Sorry. I overslept.” Getting dressed and shaved and combing his hair was what he was doing in there. His eyes looked bloodshot and tired. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I celebrate Wintersmeet Eve by getting very drunk.” He blinked in pain at the sunlight. “Family’s not a good memory for me, this time of year. Not my favorite night, and it goes on so long. Ready to go?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have a gift for you, and it’s outside of town.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Is it really?”

  He closed his eyes. “Can’t lie to you. I forgot. I just want to give it to you there.”

  “Well, yours is right here.” She led him into the forge and pointed at the bellows. He squinted.

  “I know you didn’t make that,” he said.

  “I treated the leather and patched up a couple of holes, but what I made…is this.” She pointed proudly at the Device perched at the spot where the handle met the leather. It had a dial and a button. “Here’s what it does.” She turned the dial a couple of clicks and pushed the button. The bellows rose and fell, once, twice.

  “I watched how you worked it, and saw that sometimes you had to step aside from the metal to make the fire rise,” she said when he didn’t say anything. “You set it for how many times you want it to pump, and push the button to make it go.” He said nothing. “I had an idea for a different way to do it…oh, you hate it, don’t you. I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he said in wonder, his eyes not leaving the Device. “Never would have thought of that.” He turned and smiled at her. “Come on,” he said. He took her hand and practically dragged her out of the forge. She was put out that he had barely looked at her gift, but he seemed so excited about his gift to her…what under heaven could it possibly be?

  He led her out of Longbourne toward the fort, to a place where the winds had blown the snow to a depth of only two inches. “Right here,” he said. “I wanted to give you your gift out here, away from people. Just the two of us.”

  He dug in his pocket and pulled out something small, and took her left hand. “Let’s see if it fits,” he said, and slid a gold ring onto her middle finger. Her wedding ring finger.

  “Supposed to be good luck to get betrothed on Wintersmeet Day,” he said, closing both his hands over hers, making the ring press into her skin. She looked into his brown eyes and saw her reflection there.

  “Marry me, Lainie,” Ben said quietly. “Stay here with me forever. Be Mistress Garrett. We can set up a workshop for you next to the forge and I’ll put a bigger bed in the bedroom and we can start our own family here.”

  She felt numb with something other than the cold. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

  “I was hoping for ‘yes,’” he teased.

  She leaned into his chest. She wanted nothing more in the world than to say yes. I never expected this, because I am an idiot. This is where it was always leading. You thought you could have it both ways, but you can’t. She couldn’t promise to marry him when he didn’t know who she really was. And she couldn’t tell him who she really was.

  “I love you,” she said, her words muffled by his coat.

  “What?”

  She lifted her head. “I can’t promise to marry you,” she said. The most awful look came over his face, so she hurried on, “No, it’s not what you think, it’s because in my family, the patriarch, my uncle, has to approve every marriage.”

  This was more or less true. King Jeffrey had to approve of his heirs’ spouses as new members of the royal house of North, but he’d given in to Julia about Lucas, so Telaine figured he was pretty free with his permissions. “I shouldn’t make you any promises when I don’t know what he’ll say. And there are still a lot of things you don’t know about my family that might make you change your mind about marrying me.”

  Ben opened his mouth to speak and she laid her hand over it to still him. “But I can promise you this: if you learn everything about my family, and my uncle gives his permission, and you still want to, you can ask me again, and I guarantee my answer will be ‘yes’.” She grinned. “And if he doesn’t give permission, I will probably run away with you.”

  Ben smiled from behind her hand. She gently removed it. “I can’t say I’m happy about that answer,” he said. “Didn’t expect anything like that.”

  “Did I hurt your feelings too terribly? I don’t want to be anything but honest with you.” Except about everything else.

  “More surprised than hurt.” He turned her left hand over, palm down, and they both looked at the ring. It was a perfect fit. “Suits you,” he said.

  “I don’t know how it fits so well. I didn’t know you could even work gold. It’s beautiful.” It was incised all over with delicate scrollwork. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d managed it.

  “Learned a bit of goldsmithing, back in the day.” He removed the ring from her hand and her face fell. He laughed then, a real laugh. “Does me good to see you want to keep it.”

  “I do. Will you hold it for me? And a
sk me again when I get back from Aurilien after the snows melt?”

  “Certain sure I will.” He put the ring back in his pocket. “Glad we came all the way out here,” he added. “Didn’t tell anyone what I was planning. Didn’t want you catching wind of it from anyone but me. Now we won’t have to explain why the betrothal didn’t come off.”

  “It did,” she said, taking his right arm in both of hers. “Just not the way anyone else would understand.”

  As they walked back into town, she planned furiously. Back to the capital. Resign her agent’s commission. Coerce agreement out of Uncle. Carefully tell Ben the truth and weather out his anger or surprise or confusion until he was ready to propose again, assuming he wanted to. Get married. And, apparently, buy a bigger bed. As long as she could do all those steps in that order, she’d get that ring back.

  She groaned. “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “Something I forgot to do. It’s not important.” It was very important. First, she had to stop an invasion.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “All right, hold it steady…no, don’t let it—watch it!” Telaine threw herself backward, away from the steel cylinder that rolled a short distance away, bumping over the hard-packed earth of the keep’s yard. “I told you to hold it!”

  “Slipped,” Private Ormond said. She was sure it didn’t matter to him that she’d nearly lost a finger. He was the laziest “assistant” Jackson had given her yet. If he was in on the Baron’s treasonous plan, he certainly gave no sign of wanting to advance it quickly.

  “‘Slipped’ is unacceptable,” she said, getting up from the dirty, wet ground. Her hip was sore from where she’d landed on it. “Slip again, and the Baron will hear about it.”

  The soldier swallowed, his eyes wide. “Sorry.” He rolled the cylinder back to its original place. Telaine glared at him once more, then stuck her head inside and began bringing gears together to interlock. It was as fussy as trying to get a crowd of two-year-olds all pointed in the same direction. She’d tried wedging the thing, but it rocked no matter what she held it with, and Private Ormond was all that was left to her.

  She cursed again, sucked a pinched finger, and resumed her work more rapidly because Ormond looked like he couldn’t hold the cylinder much longer, whatever threat she used.

  “There. You can let go,” she said, and Ormond stepped back, relief sweeping over his dull features. The cylinder held in place, solidly attached to its mate, and that brought the earth mover that much closer to being finished. Wonderful.

  She waved Ormond away and began packing up her tools. It was mid-afternoon, but she’d promised the Baron she’d give the manor’s hot-water cistern a look. He’d claimed it was behaving erratically, but probably it was just one more thing he’d made up to get her out there. On the other hand, he’d said he’d be visiting the outlying villages that day, so maybe she was wrong about that. In any case, she might be able to get Mistress Wilson to give her supper.

  It was a warm, beautiful winter day, and she walked briskly down the valley and through the remaining snowdrifts to the manor. The guards at the door ignored her—well, she was a familiar visitor by now. One of them turned to open the door, then took half a step back when it was opened from the inside and Aunt Weaver came out. She saw Telaine, and an uncharacteristic look of shock passed over her face. “Lainie,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “delivering an order to the housekeeper.”

  “But you—”

  Aunt Weaver took her by the arm in a firm grip. “How about you walk me home,” she said.

  “I—”

  The grip became painfully tight. “Home,” Aunt Weaver said, and towed Telaine down the stairs and across the gravel driveway to the main road, where she released her. She strode off toward Longbourne, not waiting for Telaine. Telaine ran to catch up.

  “All right, what was that really about?” she said. “I know you don’t run errands. You yourself told me that’s what apprentices are for. What were you doing in the Baron’s manor?”

  “I told you. delivering an order.”

  Telaine stepped in front of her and made her come to a stop. “You were not. What is going on? Does this have something to do with your sneaking out at night, not to knitting circle?”

  Aunt Weaver eyed her. “You callin’ me a liar?”

  I’m going to regret this, but it might be the only way to get her to talk. “I have inherent magic. I can hear lies when people speak them directly to me. So yes, I’m calling you a liar.”

  Aunt Weaver raised her eyebrows. “Young Jeffrey never said a word about that.”

  “Well, it’s not his secret to tell, is it? And he kept yours.”

  “That he did.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Come with me.”

  They traveled in silence until they reached Aunt Weaver’s house, where she dismissed her apprentices, then took a seat at the dining table. “This ain’t something I need spread around, not until I’m sure,” she said, “but I know now you can keep a secret, and happen you might be able to help, if that magic of yours works the way you say.”

  “I can’t tell if someone’s lying if I overhear them talking to someone else, only if they’re talking to me. But I’ve learned how to get people to address me directly, over the years.”

  Aunt Weaver snorted. “Happen that’s a useful skill for an agent to have.”

  “Certain sure it is.”

  “Well.” She sat back in her chair with her hands clasped loosely in front of her, resting on the table. “You know there’ve been disappearances recently.”

  “Yes. Ben said there had been four since he arrived in Longbourne, from all over the Barony.”

  “There’ve been seven over the last nine years. All young folks between the ages of ten and twelve, all vanished when they were running errands from home to somewhere a mile or so away. They’re assumed dead, lost in the mountains or the crevasse or the forest, but no bodies have ever been found.”

  Aunt Weaver was gradually losing her strong northeastern accent—stronger, Telaine realized, than that of most of her friends who’d been born in Steepridge as Aunt Weaver had not.

  “You think someone’s been killing them,” Telaine said.

  “You’re quick. I didn’t realize there was a pattern until about two years ago, when I finally got to talking with some of the families. Then I couldn’t not see it. I started looking into the disappearances—”

  “Why didn’t you tell the Baron? Shouldn’t he be the one to execute justice?”

  Zara glared at her. “If I’d wanted interruptions, I’d have told the knitting circle. And it was nine years ago the Baron came to Steepridge. That’s a coincidence I couldn’t ignore.”

  “Is that why you were at the manor?”

  “You should hear all of this in order. Stop asking questions. I started looking into the disappearances and realized they’d been happening more frequently as time passed—and that in five of them, Archie Morgan had been in the area a day, sometimes a couple of hours before someone realized the child was missing. Never for long, but again, it was suspicious. Last autumn, after Jenny Butler went missing, I went to the manor one day when the Baron and Morgan were both out and I searched Morgan’s room.”

  “That was incredibly dangerous, if you thought he was a murderer!”

  “There wasn’t anyone else to do it.”

  “There was me. I’m trained to do that sort of thing! You could have asked for my help.”

  Zara regarded her with a grim smile. “I didn’t want to involve you because this isn’t your home. You didn’t tell me your business, I didn’t tell you mine.”

  “But—“ Telaine sighed. “You’re right. Did you find anything?”

  “I did.” Zara’s smile faded. “Four braids of human hair, all lined up in a drawer, and three shorter tufts tied with string.”

  Telaine’s gorge rose. She swallowed twice, and said, “That seems like proof to me.”


  “Circumstantial proof, without bodies,” Zara said. “And I wasn’t sure he was the only one involved. He and the Baron live in each other’s pockets. I didn’t want to accuse Morgan to the Baron and have him dismiss my accusations while Morgan got rid of the evidence. I had a feeling the Baron was more involved than it looked. He…you know how he acts like all of Longbourne is beneath his notice whenever he comes here?”

  “Yes.”

  “The only things he ever looks at are the children. The ones nearly adolescents. And the way he looks at them screams a warning at me every time. So after I looked in Morgan’s room, I went and searched the Baron’s. Only two doors are locked in the manor. One of ‘em’s the Baron’s office. The other is in his bedroom. But he keeps the key to that one in his bedside table.”

  “You’re more reckless than I imagined!”

  “You want to hear this story, or not?”

  “Sorry. What was in the room?”

  Zara’s lips thinned in anger. “Things I wish I’d never seen. Knives. A table stained with old blood. More things I’m glad I can’t put a name to.” She curled her hand into a fist. “I think Morgan takes the children for the Baron, and the Baron lets him finish them off.”

  Telaine realized she was holding her breath. “That’s impossible. Who would do something like that?”

  “Someone who sees other people as things,” Zara said. “Young Jeffrey said he suspected him of having…unnatural pleasures, but I imagine this isn’t what he meant, or he’d have taken Harstow in charge years ago. It’s not the sort of thing you think anyone’s capable of.”

  “You’ll need more evidence if you want a court to listen, especially if you’re accusing a provincial lord. They won’t come search his house on your say-so.”

  “That’s what I was looking for today. Something I could take to prove the Baron’s involved. But I didn’t get far before one of the servants noticed me and I had to leave. Sorry I escorted you away so quickly, but I didn’t want you blurting anything out that would let them know I wasn’t there legitimately.”