Agent of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Telaine remembered the manacles and her stomach churned again. “I can look around,” she said, “but there might not be any evidence a court would admit.”

  “I know.” Zara clenched her fists together. “I want that man to hang for what he’s done. This is my home and I will not tolerate anyone meddling with it.”

  She looked so much like her portrait at that moment Telaine couldn’t help thinking She’s never left off being Queen; she’s just got a smaller kingdom. “Does it have to be for this crime? Because he’s guilty of something even worse.”

  “Can’t think of anything worse than torturing and murdering children,” Zara said.

  “I mean in the eyes of the law.” She’d given Telaine her secret; maybe it was time Telaine returned the favor. “He’s a traitor. He’s going to open the fort to the Ruskalder and help them invade Tremontane.”

  Zara’s eyes went wide. “You have proof?”

  “I do. And my word counts as evidence in court.”

  “It does. Sweet heaven. He’ll hang for that for sure.”

  “It’s why I was so upset about being trapped here for the winter. Uncle needs to know.”

  “And that earth mover is how Harstow plans to bring the Ruskalder here before anyone below has time to prepare.”

  “You’re quick.” Telaine grinned at her great-aunt. “I know. It’s not a time for levity.”

  “Yes, but it’s either that or run mad.”

  They both fell silent. Finally, Telaine said, “I’ll investigate the next time the Baron’s away.”

  “No,” Zara said. “If you’re caught—”

  “I’m not going to get caught.”

  “You’re not perfect, Telaine,” Zara said, and Telaine experienced a moment of dissociation at hearing her full name for the first time in months. “If you’re caught, it could mean your life. At the very least it would mean ruining your mission here. It’s not a chance we should take.”

  “You’re right.” Telaine banged her fist on the table, then rubbed the pain away. “We have to wait for the pass to clear, and I have to make sure that earth mover can’t go anywhere.”

  “Can you manage that?”

  Telaine nodded. “I certainly hope so.”

  It was full dark, and Zara stood, shaking out her fingers. “Knitting circle tonight,” she said, her voice falling into her familiar accent. “Happen you’d like to come along?”

  “How can you bear to do something so prosaic after all this?”

  Aunt Weaver shrugged. “Sometimes you need the company of friends when the worst is bearing down on you. With that Morgan gone, happen there won’t be any more children gone missing, and we can stop the Baron ‘fore he does anything else he ought hang for.”

  “I swear those children will have justice.”

  “Too late for them. Better hope for justice for the ones he ain’t snatched yet,” Aunt Weaver said.

  ***

  After two months, Telaine was running out of ways to stall construction of the earth mover. She had a brief moment of hope when she thought the Device might be too wide to fit through the inner wall gate that led to the pass, but careful measurement said it could pass with scant inches’ clearance on each side. Its treads moved smoothly. It had, or would have, plenty of fuel. Aunt Weaver said she probably had less than two months before the last snowfall, plus another month to clear the main pass. She didn’t think she could stretch the construction out that long.

  She found that the two cylinders’ cases were hinged so they could open like a ladybug’s shell, giving easy access to their complicated innards after they were connected to the nose, preventing her from sabotaging them in a way that would be impossible to detect. Wonderful.

  She was torn, all the time now, between her anxieties about completing the earth mover and her Deviser’s joy at completing the earth mover. It was a beautiful piece of Devisery, not only in its exquisite construction but in the beauty of its parts. Someone had cared a great deal about this Device to make it so elegant as well as powerful. It was a shame she couldn’t let it be operational.

  She decided to run some of the wires through the motive force cluster backwards and weave others in a tight loop before connecting them. The earth mover would work—for a while. Then it would overheat and burn out the motive force. She hated the Baron getting even that much use out of it, but he’d made comments about wanting to see it run before the time came to clear the pass, and she was afraid to make herself look incompetent. It was possible, since he knew her to be excellent at her trade, he might figure out she was making mistakes on purpose.

  She didn’t think her alterations were terribly obvious, but she was still happy the Baron didn’t hover around these days. From what she’d overheard from Jackson, he was making the rounds of the smaller villages throughout the valley. The idea that he might be looking for new victims made her sick. Still, Morgan was gone—she had to cling to that small hope that his absence would make a difference.

  Twelve weeks gone. Seven (or more) weeks to go. Telaine took the bulbous “tail” of the earth mover and went out looking for a source. Until studying the earth mover, she hadn’t ever tried to contain, or even move, a source, and despite her anxiety she was eager to master this new challenge.

  The day was overcast, and the snow was cold and slushy, but she felt wonderful: wonderful because the overcast skies promised another big storm, wonderful because she could spin out finding a source indefinitely. She decided to stay close to home, this time, because of the storm, but there was no reason she couldn’t cover the valley as thoroughly as the Baron did, “looking” for a source. She slogged through the mush, wishing her boots were waterproof.

  She heard the sounds of a horse approaching, and turned fast to see the Baron bearing down on her, glowering. “Miss Bricker,” he said, “what are you doing away from the fort? I’m beginning to question your dedication to your work.”

  She held up the bulbous tail, grateful to have it with her. “I’m looking for a source,” she said. “You know how hard they are to find.”

  “I believe I have found one,” he said. “If you would follow me?” He didn’t take her up behind him, but he did keep his horse to a slow enough gait that she could keep up. How could he possibly sense source? He’d said he couldn’t! Hadn’t he? She couldn’t remember anymore. She felt ill. It was too much to hope for that he was only imagining things.

  He led her back into town. The sinking feeling was now joined by nausea. He couldn’t be going where she thought he was going. He just couldn’t.

  He was.

  He dismounted and led her around the back of the forge; Ben cast a wary eye on them, but kept on working. The high-pitched tink of hammer hitting metal followed them through the storm-tinged air.

  He waved his hand over the source, her source. “I am only able to sense strong sources,” he said. “This should be sufficient.”

  She took a breath. “Milord, this is the source I use to imbue your Devices,” she said. “It’s the closest coherent source to your manor. I can use it, yes, but it would certainly disadvantage you.”

  She waited for the Baron to erupt into a rage. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “You might return here for it when the snows have stopped falling, and the earth mover may be used,” he said, “and make other use of the source until then.”

  “That’s a good idea, milord, and I think everyone will be grateful you are willing to sacrifice your own comfort—”

  The Baron grabbed Telaine’s arm and squeezed hard. She let out a pained gasp. The hammer noise stopped. “I grow tired of your constant toadying,” he said through clenched teeth. “I admired you because you weren’t afraid of me. I feel my admiration dwindling.”

  Without thinking, Telaine pulled her arm away. “I told you what I thought you wanted to hear,” she said sharply. “I thought a man who would sabotage his own Devices so he could have my company was a man who didn’t respect me enough to want my true opinions.”


  The Baron threw back his head and roared his laughter. “Now that is the Miss Bricker I have come to admire,” he said. The hammer noise started again, quietly now. “You knew all along.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “And you said nothing.”

  “I didn’t understand your motives, milord. Happen you wanted me to play along, happen not. So I kept my tongue.”

  “Miss Bricker, if I could find a woman of rank with half your personality, I would marry her without another thought. Leave that source. I would hate to deprive you of such a valuable resource. And join me for supper this evening. Leave the tools behind. I simply wish to enjoy your company.”

  The hammer blows stopped again. “I’m…honored, milord.”

  “And change your clothes. This supper is a social event.” The Baron walked back around the forge house and stood, slapping his gloves into his palm in a slow rhythm. Telaine followed him, trying not to meet Ben’s eye, knowing he would explode if she did. “Until this evening, Miss Bricker.” He mounted his horse and rode off down the street.

  “This evening?” Ben said, laying down his hammer. “Social event?”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  “I—wish the snows were over. Wish you were safely down the mountain.”

  “It’s unnerving how I draw the attention of so many crazy men.”

  “Not going to take that personally.”

  Telaine laughed. “Other than you.”

  He leaned over the rail, and said, “Wonder if he realizes he asked you to go up the mountain, through the snow, at night, in a dress?”

  Telaine threw her head back and looked at the sky. “Please, heaven, snow before suppertime!”

  It did.

  ***

  Fourteen weeks gone. The earth mover was assembled. The Baron insisted on going out with her every day to search for a source. Telaine judged the season was almost over and he was getting worried about having his Device ready in time. She’d run out of ways to delay him. Once they’d found a source, and she’d imbued the motive forces, the only things standing in the way of the Ruskalder invasion force were the changes she’d made to sabotage the Device.

  Fifteen weeks gone. The Baron, curse him, had come up with the idea to collect weak sources and allow them to combine in the chamber. It worked. At the Baron’s insistence, Telaine imbued one of the motive forces and showed the Baron how to start the Device. His eyes lit with that frightening passion that could so easily turn ugly. She pretended the Device needed all her attention so she wouldn’t have to look into those eyes.

  Telaine began the process of charging the motive forces, getting rid of the Baron by claiming to need solitude for the task. She worked as slowly as she could, her mind frantically trying to come up with a way to delay two weeks, a single week longer. The season of storms was nearly over, Aunt Weaver said, but days had passed clear and crisp without a single cloud in the sky, storm or no, heralding that last snowfall.

  She left the fort early, weary from the effort of spinning source into the walnut-sized orbs that were the Device’s motive forces. She hadn’t ever realized how draining the process was, but then she’d never spent so many consecutive hours charging anything, let alone the finicky spheres. Clouds had finally begun gathering that morning, casting a pall over the snowy ground, but she was too tired to be cheered by the oncoming bad weather.

  She passed the tavern, passed Eleanor’s, passed the forge with no more than a wave for Ben, and went into Aunt Weaver’s place through the front door because walking all the way around back was too exhausting.

  The loom was unoccupied. Sarah was gone. Alys sat alone at the great loom, making it thump and rattle irregularly. “Where is everyone?” Telaine asked.

  “Mistress Weaver went visiting with Mistress Ponsonby,” Alys said with a withering look. Glaring at Telaine, even now she had a man of her own and wasn’t trying to steal Jack Taylor, was Alys’s favorite pastime. “Sent Sarah on an errand.”

  “You’re always sending her out on errands. You should take a turn sometime.”

  “Youngest apprentice does the running. I did it in my time. So don’t come over high and mighty with me.”

  “And yet you run errands to the tavern all the time. Where did you send her now? Out to Granger or Hightop?”

  “Not that far. Just to the manor. Baron ordered a bolt of finest and I sent her off with it.”

  Telaine sucked in a sharp, horrified breath. “How long ago?”

  “Not long. Maybe an hour. Should be back soon.”

  But she won’t be. No. Not another one. And Telaine hadn’t passed her on the road, which meant Sarah was already there. There, gift-wrapped and delivered to the Baron because Telaine and Aunt Weaver hadn’t told anyone his secret.

  The back door slammed. “Aunt Weaver?” Telaine called out.

  “Here,” Aunt Weaver said, coming through to hang up her cloak. “You’re home early.”

  “Sarah’s at the manor.”

  Aunt Weaver went still. “How long?”

  “An hour.”

  Aunt Weaver turned her glass-cutting glare on Alys. “That’s an errand you should have run,” she said. “Go home. And I’m not sure I want you comin’ back. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

  Alys, stunned, gathered her things and bolted. “What now?” Telaine said.

  “You’ll have to go after her,” Aunt Weaver said. “Happen it’s not too late.”

  “We could raise the town. If we’d told someone—”

  “Too late for that. And you know well as I do that would just get Sarah killed.” She sounded calm and reasonable, but her eyes said everything her mouth didn’t. Zara North wasn’t used to waiting for someone else to act, and Telaine could see the words being dragged out of her as she added, “I can’t do this. You can.”

  Telaine swept her cloak around her shoulders. “If I’m not back in three hours—call it full dark—come after me. Bring Ben and Liam and anyone else who might be good in a fight.”

  “That storm’ll be here before full dark. You’d better be faster than that.”

  “I’ll hurry.” Telaine put up her hood. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back, and I’m bringing Sarah with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Telaine rapidly went through plans and discarded them as she left Aunt Weaver’s house and hurried off through the ditches. Clouds were beginning to gather, good for her earth mover delaying strategy, bad for what she was doing right now. It was late afternoon, perhaps an hour before sunset, but the darkening sky made it feel later. She needed the darkness, but not too soon, not before she’d found Sarah.

  She chafed at how slowly she traveled through the snow. Every minute wasted was another minute Sarah might be—she tried not to picture the manacles, the room Aunt Weaver had described, the well-padded walls sealing in the screaming. Maybe she was wrong. It wasn’t likely the Baron would take delivery of the fabric himself; he might not even see Sarah. But if he had…if he had, it might already be too late. But she had to try. All her previous justifications disappeared; if they’d acted against the Baron, Sarah wouldn’t be in danger. She trudged faster. Her cloak dragged atop the snow behind her.

  The manor was only partially lit, but the Baron had to be home. She didn’t suppose he would collect his latest plaything and then ride off to amuse himself elsewhere for a few hours. She could see the guards at the door as indistinct blobs; she hoped that was how she looked to them. Actually, she hoped they couldn’t see her at all.

  She took a wide, curving path around the side of the house, following the tree line, hoping to reach the kitchen door without being seen. Usually the guards were oblivious to everything that didn’t happen within arm’s distance. She glanced up, and swore. One of them was looking right at her. Now, would he be suspicious if she went in via the kitchen door? She was a tradesman, after all. Telaine cursed again and changed direction. She couldn’t risk alerting them further.

  She marched up the steps and
said, “Good evening,” and they let her through. As usual, no one was in the entry. She yanked off her snowshoes and boots and pelted toward the servants’ stair.

  Telaine pattered silently down the stairs, footwear in hand, and into the kitchen. The kitchen maids shrieked when they saw her, and Mistress Wilson went pale. “Where’s the girl?” Telaine asked in a low voice. Mistress Wilson was silent. “Mistress Wilson, this is your chance to help me save one child from the Baron. Where is she? His bedchamber?”

  Mistress Wilson shook her head. “Top floor, servants’ quarters,” she said, and Telaine understood why she was so reluctant to speak. If Sarah disappeared, the servants might be blamed. “Second door on the right from the stairs. We don’t know anything. We never know what happens to them. I swear it.”

  “You could have told someone he’d taken them!”

  “Who’s to tell? And who would listen to us, accusing our rightful lord?” Mistress Wilson was in tears. “He threatened our families if we said aught about him. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Telaine closed her lips on more recriminations. No sense wasting time chastising the servants, much as she wanted to. “Where’s the Baron?”

  “Dining room. We’ve only just served the first course.”

  That gave her forty-five minutes, based on her previous suppers. “I’ll be back. The Baron won’t get this one.” She put her boots and snowshoes in a corner, snatched up her lock picks, and tiptoed up the servants’ stair in her stocking feet, all the way to the top.

  She’d never been up here; there had been no reason for it. The stair came out on a long hallway, scuffed from a generation of servants’ feet, that looked as if it cut the top floor in half. Plain wooden doors lined the hall in pairs, opposite one another. Telaine felt like sidling along, though it wasn’t that narrow; she hated the idea of brushing up against anything here, as if every door concealed something evil.