by Guy Antibes
“So, there’s not much to do here, is there? Get the Duke out and save Parthy, eh? A morning’s work, nothing more.” Klark said, laughing. He shook his head. “We need a plan.”
“Fighting our way in is out,” Sara said. “If those are the same men who abducted the Duke, then we are no match for them. As much as I appreciate Youngman and the rest of the king’s soldiers, they don’t stand a chance against those men either.”
“What can we do?” Willa said. “If we can’t fight them, then our cause is lost.”
Sara rose from her chair and paced the room. “Perhaps we can get to the Duke. We have two things that will equalize our abilities. Three guns with balls and powder and our four remaining pipe exploders.”
“Choster told us that guns were equalizers,” Willa said, nodding, likely remembering the day he died. Sara felt a pang of sorrow.
Choster?” Lily said.
“Captain Choster. I remember he told me that when I was attacked in the Duke’s house.”
“You didn’t tell me that part,” Lily said.
“I was there the night Duke Northcross was abducted. There were eight of the men like you saw at the bottom of the stairs. I managed to kill three of them with the guns. I tried to fight them with my sword. I thought I could hold my own,” Sara shook her head as the failure that night still bothered her. “I was like a child to them.”
“Sara, you’re only eighteen. Youare a child to them!” Lily said, raising her hands in exasperation. “What other wonders have you performed?”
“I failed the Duke.” Sara walked to a window. She saw nothing but darkness outside and felt a darkness inside. She had let him go and that was that.
“Those are some pretty high standards, my dear,” Lily said. “Anyway, the past is history, let’s focus on the present. Later, however, I want every little detail of that one.”
“Detail. I’d like to get in and see the tower for myself. Can we do that? Perhaps I can pose as your servant or something,” Sara said.
“Certainly. We can go together tomorrow.”
~
Lily took Sara underneath the West Tower along a road that ran around the wall with houses on the other side. Above the palace wall, the tower was square with windows at every level.
“It’s not meant to be a prison, but when former Grand Dukes wanted to keep important prisoners, they were put here. There is only one exit and that’s the one guarded by those horrid men,” Lily said.
Sara wondered if Duke Northcross was looking out from his room at them standing below. “Two lengths of rope. One to get from the tower down to the palace wall and another to get down to the ground. A pipe exploder will clean out the wall. A coach at the bottom can spirit us away,” Sara said, looking at an intersection. “It could park right here.”
“How did you come up with that all of a sudden?” Lily said.
“It’s just a logical solution. We can use the guns on the guards as long as there aren’t any others around. Maybe tonight, late. After that it’s a run out of the city. Is there an obscure gate? Everyone would expect us to go through the main gate.”
“There is one that’s not too heavily guarded to the southeast and it actually opens and closes. Why would you do that?”
“If the Duke can be hidden, it might be the easiest way out especially if it’s the closest. We’d go out mid-morning after the alarm when things have settled down a bit.”
“So that’s the plan, eh? You thought of that just looking up at the tower?”
Sara smiled. “That’s why I wanted to see it. Didn’t you learn how to think creatively at school?” She relished Lily sputtering nonsense in front of her. “Now, let’s go inside and look at the tower entrance.”
Lily entered the palace with other nobles. Sara stayed a half step behind, like any good and proper servant as they walked up the steps and into the palace proper. When she’d been in the palace with Anton, she didn’t take notice of where they were, now it was vital that she observe the layout and compare it to the way Lily and Klark had described it.
Even compared with the King’s palace, Sara liked the more compact feel to Stonebridge. The palace was newer and the windows were larger, reflecting modern glass-making skills and architecture that weren’t so well developed a few centuries ago.
They walked along the large foyer that faced the doors to the Duke’s Court that Sara had been to just a few months ago. A friend of Lily’s stopped her to chat. Sara walked on a little further by herself looking about the foyer and towards the area of the West Tower. Guards walked out of the doors and Sara turned a corner to avoid them, running into Duke Goldfields. She turned her head. Men in uniforms surrounded him, but no one outmatched the golden braid on his epaulets and or all of the medals on his chest.
“Sara Featherwood?” The duke said. His eyes blinked and his mouth rounded in amazement. “Grab her.”
Sara tried to run, but her skirts didn’t help any. A number of gloved hands now held her fast. She struggled, but there were too many of them.
“We’ve heard of your exploits to the north. The Grand Duke is pleased that you wiped out the rebel vermin; however, he is very displeased that you instigated the departure of certain brigades from Obridge and further north.
“You didn’t feed the men, Duke.”
“Your Excellency.” He looked at her coldly. “That is beside the point. We can’t retrieve them with Parthy on our southern doorstep.”
Such an odious man, Sara thought, as he strutted and preened, walking around her as if she were some prized possession. She spotted Lily and jerked her head. “Let me go!” she yelled to call attention to herself.
“Not at all. You’re going to see the Grand Duke and then perhaps we’ll let you join our illustrious guest, Duke Northcross. But you already know he’s here don’t you?” She hated the greasy laugh that followed.
She struggled again, but that was to make eye contact with Lily so she could mouth a ‘GO’ to her. Lily hurried away from the confrontation. It wouldn’t do to have her caught as well.
“Let’s see the Grand Duke, shall we?”
They took her into the empty Duke’s Court and on to the far end where they entered into another room. Four men stood at a map table along with the Grand Duke. Two were obviously generals. Their real uniforms weren’t as ostentatious as the Grand Duke’s or Goldfields’s, but their bearing certainly made up for it.
Doctor Miller glanced up from the map. He wore civilian clothes and looked like he didn’t belong. “So youare here. You’ve created a great deal of trouble in Shattuk Downs, Miss Featherwood.”
“Ah. Countess,” the Grand Duke said. “I’m not so sure I would term it as trouble. She cleaned out a nest of rebels for us. We have heard of your rise in fame and my, how you’ve come up in the world from the last time we met. Why are you here?”
Miller looked at the Grand Duke and, with a look of deep disapproval, went back to gazing at the map. Oddly, the only ones sympathetic to her plight seemed to be the generals, who nodded approvingly at the Grand Duke’s words.
“I heard Duke Northcross was at the palace and wondered if I might visit him.”
“A covert search?” one of the generals said.
“It seemed like a good idea,” Sara shrugged her shoulders.
“How did you get in?” the Grand Duke said. “Fly?”
“I just followed a noblewoman in. The guards thought I was her maid. No one noticed.”
The Grand Duke snapped his fingers at an aide, who had been hugging the wall. He muttered something in his ear and the man rushed out. “That won’t happen again. But since you are looking for your mentor, perhaps we can arrange for you to join him.”
“Hardwell!” The Duke of Goldfields snapped to attention at the Grand Duke’s call. “Put the Countess in the room next to Passcold.” He turned to Sara. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the proximity.”
Goldfields grabbed Sara, nearly knocking her off her feet, and took her towards th
e West Tower followed by his personal guards.
“You’re not so clever as you think, Sara Featherwood, claiming to be an heir to the Goldagle name.”
“I don’t have to claim anything, Duke Goldfields. Unlike you I am a Goldagle by blood and it’s certified by the Royal Genealogist.” She hated the smirk on Goldfields’ face.
“It won’t matter in a few months anyway. The Grand Duke will strip the nobility of their titles.” Goldfields nearly spit the words out.
“And you don’t think that you’ll lose your title of Duke? Belonnia will only recognize one ruler in all of Shattuk Downs and that won’t be you. The Grand Duke plots with a Belonnian agent and that agent will decide who remains a noble or not. Belonnia has little desire for an aristocracy. Everyone is property of the state.”
“That won’t happen. I’m part of the inner circle!”
Sara shook her head as he picked up the pace. “Once the Grand Duke has made his deal, and I think he already has, his inner circle is in Belonnia, not in Shattuk Downs.”
“You lie!” Goldfields said. He pushed her into the wall. “You and your frivolous title will die along with Passcold.” Saliva sprayed from his mouth as he spoke. Sara wiped it away with her free hand.
“My Eminence,” one of the guards said. “You must restrain yourself. Remember the Grand Duke’s words.”
Goldfields let Sara go and straightened up his uniform. “Yes, yes, of course. Take her up and put her in the room next to Passcold. I have better things to do.” He rushed away.
“I am sorry about the duke’s behavior, Miss Featherwood. He tends to get carried away.” The guard actually apologized for Goldfields’ behavior—an amazing display. She had tried to goad the Duke, but realized that her words were likely more accurate than she knew. Belonnia was an efficient state, if nothing else. She didn’t think they’d put up with a man such as Goldfields.
Three guards stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up into the West Tower. She wouldn’t be able to recognize any of them as the abductors of the Duke, but they all had the same look of menacing competence that her own escort lacked.
“She is to go in the room next to Duke Northcross,” the guard who reproved Goldfields said.
One of the men grunted. “I have her.”
Sara had felt safer with Goldfields’s men than with these ruffians. She looked at their backs as they returned the way they had come.
“Up.” He motioned with his head to climb the stairs. Sara had never felt so exposed to latent danger as she did now. She lifted her skirts, but not too high as to show the knife strapped to her leg. It wouldn’t be an adequate weapon in a fight with these men, but it still gave her a measure of control over her predicament. She counted the floors as she rose up into the tower. At seven, the guard told her to stop.
Sara finally had the chance to look up at the skylight that lit the entire stairwell. A window had been placed at the top of every door to give each landing direct light from the rooms’ windows.
Her guard opened a door. Sara kept her head turned away and hurried in. She heard the lock click. Now she could sigh with relief that she was away from the guards. The size of the room impressed her as she thought that the windows, that didn’t look large from the outside, let in copious amounts of light.
The room’s furnishings reminded her of school—serviceable, not cheap, but not ostentatious. She sat on the unmade bed and tried to collect her wits before she started pounding on the walls. Her plan now lay in shreds. How could she not be so aware of her surroundings as to be recognized by such a useless brute as Duke Goldfields? Now the Grand Duke knew she was here and he now held the King’s brother and his niece… her.
She wasn’t ready to wallow in self-pity, so she knocked on the walls, relieved that they weren’t made out of stone or brick. If the walls were constructed like Brightlings, they were lath covered with plaster.
“Duke! Duke!” She would yell and then put her ear to the wall. She pounded with her fist and then she heard another pounding and a voice, but the sound was too muffled to understand. She sat on her bed and looked at the wall where her real father had responded.
There were large pictures in the room hung by wires from a high railing. She tested one and found it could be moved. Perhaps if she could use her knife to cut a hole in the wall, they might be able to talk. The picture could cover the damage, so Sara got to work. In an hour she had carved enough of the plaster to put her knife to work on the lath. The cavity of the wall was about six inches in width. In another hour, her knife plunged all the way through into the other room.
“Duke Northcross!” Sara said.
“Sara? That’s you! How did you get here?”
“Never mind me, how are you?” Excitement filled her. Half of her quest had been completed. She had reached Northcross. Now it would be up to others to get them out.
“I was ill for a week or two after I arrived. My kidnappers didn’t stop other than to eat meals all the way down from Parth. The Grand Duke has fed me regularly and provided one visit from a healer. Do you know why I’m here?”
Sara dragged the only chair in the room over to the hole and gave him the entire story right up until she cut through to the other side of the wall. He let her talk and didn’t interrupt.
“So West is gone, but he isn’t the real enemy, after all,” the Duke said.
“Nor is the Grand Duke. It’s Belonnia. Willa West is convinced Shattuk Downs is a diversion to lure our troops away from the Eastern border so Belonnia can capture the mountains and I concur.”
“Yes, the old border dispute. They want the mines in the Eastern Mountains and probably, as part of a settlement, they will want Shattuk Downs as a protectorate. They can widen the northern Gost road and ship their goods through Faina and across the middle sea to Belonnia. With me as a hostage, my brother would readily agree to such a deal. The rest of Parthia would remain as it is.”
Sara didn’t hear him say anything for a few moments. “We can’t fight our way out. I tried back in your house and know my limitations.” She didn’t use the word ‘failure’ but that’s how she thought of it.
“Sara, we all have limitations. It’s what we do with them that sets us apart. You seem to have made the most of yours despite your demonstrated inability to save me.” She heard him chuckle, laughter of any kind didn’t sound natural coming from him. “I’m very sorry to lose Choster. He was one of my best.”
One of the best. His words brought tears to Sara’s eyes. Of all the trials she had endured on her trip from Parthy, losing Brightlings couldn’t have been worse, but losing Choster came in a close second. “He died saving us all.”
“I’ll make sure his family is compensated.”
“A family?” Shock and sorrow filled Sara.
“Yes. He has a wife and two stout young men. Perhaps I’ll take them into my service.”
Sara let her tears fall. As deeply as she felt his loss, hers wouldn’t compare to the man’s family. She failed to realize that. “We can talk a little later,” she said. “I’m going to clean up the debris from making this hole. I suggest you do the same. The pictures can be moved to cover the damage.”
“Good idea, Sara. You’ve a fine head for details. There is always a use for that talent.”
That was enough for Sara. She could talk to him again later in the day. She brushed the dust and debris from the wall and then cleaned up the floor underneath her mattress. She paused to look out of the window at the astounding view of Stonebridge. She put her face against the glass to look down at the city wall below.
There were still a lot of men camped in the fields surrounding Stonebridge, but Sara could see where there were holes in the sea of tents. Perhaps Ben Featherwood’s exit did indeed put the idea to leave in the heads of other groups. She hoped so.
If the Belonnians were successful, what would they do to Shattuk Downs? Sara thought back to her studies of the Belonnian culture driven into her by Doctor Miller. An Emperor ruled t
he Belonnians. Where Parthians could own their own property, the Belonnians were all tenants on state land. Doctor Miller admitted that there was an aristocracy of sorts that was more ‘equal’ than the common folk.
She couldn’t imagine Belting Hollow under such a regime. The thought hit her—was West in league with Doctor Miller? Was the establishment of the Red Swallows a precursor to the establishment of a Belonnian-type government in north Shattuk Downs? She recalled Miller’s anger at the Grand Duke’s casual dismissal of the rebels. Of course they were in league one way or another. How could two professors work against Shattuk Downs and the King and not have their sympathies known to each other.
A knock on the door surprised Sara and she stood up. The lock rasped and the door opened. A guard stood holding it for a maid who brought up a tray of food and water along with a chamber pot. She took the old one, unused, with her and the door closed.
With her ear to the hole, she heard the same scenario playing out in the Duke’s room. No words were spoken. How often did the food come? Sara lifted the cloth that covered the tray. The amount of food indicated that she was fed once per day.
Sara waited for a few minutes and then called to the Duke.
“Do we get fed once a day?”
“I do,” he said.
“I had an idea, if your Belonnia theory is correct, then I think West was working with the Belonnians. Most likely they promised him a position to run northern Shattuk Downs. Doctor Miller flashed an angry look when the Duke congratulated me for dispensing with the rebels in Belting Hollow.”
“That would make sense. The Grand Duke is an idiot for not seeing through all of this,” Northcross said.
“Did you? West certainly represented a threat, but the Belonnian strategy has layers.”
Sara waited a moment for a reply. “I stand chided, Countess. I myself am an idiot as well for getting myself into this mess. Have you thought of a way out?” She heard him chuckle.
