All The King's-Men (The Yellow Hoods, #3)

by Adam Dreece

  Simon carefully walked around his desk, scrutinizing every detail of the floor. He then started examining the walls and ceiling. Finally, he went in front of the letter and bent down so that he was eye level with it. Even the dust on his desk appeared to have been undisturbed. Seeing his full and proper name spelled out sent a shiver down his spine, as not even Marcus knew it.

  Taking a deep breath, he gently removed the letter and broke the blank seal on the back.

  “Are you not afraid it’s poisoned, sir?” asked Cleeves nervously, standing at the door.

  Simon paused as he was about to remove the letter. “If—” Simon stopped, deciding not to say her name. “If the red-hooded woman or a member of the real Fare wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.”

  “If I may, sir, do you suspect that I put the letter there?” asked Cleeves, afraid of Simon’s wrath.

  Simon gave him a half-smile. “No. At the end of the day, Cleeves, you are family. Love you or hate you, you’re here because I solemnly believe that ultimately, you have my best interests at heart.”

  The old, sickly-looking man stood a bit more proudly. He couldn’t remember getting a compliment from Simon before. It was in that moment that he realized just how scared Simon truly was.

  Simon leaned against the front of his desk and read the letter. He straightened up and took a step forward. “They have Abeland and some of his friends in prison, including one of Klaus’ little Yellow Hoods. Apparently, they believe they’ve killed Richelle.” He stopped and held the letter to his chest. “That’s interesting,” he said to himself, thinking of the red-hooded woman. “I doubt it, anyway. That whole family is extremely difficult to kill.”

  “Can they truly have become so powerful that they could capture and kill Piemans?” asked Cleeves, closing the door out of fear of being overheard.

  Simon turned his gaze to the old man. “I guess they’ve walked in Marcus’ shadow long enough. Now they are ready to strike. I thought it dangerous of them to have me hire LeLoup and send him after Klaus. We were lucky to have survived that catastrophe. I’m guessing they are tying things up, making their big moves now. We’re going to need to be extra careful.” Simon moved to the next page of the letter.

  As he moved to the final page, Simon’s face flushed and he crumpled the letter after finishing it. He gazed angrily at a spot on the floor.

  Cleeves fidgeted as he waited for the explosion Simon always had after such expressions. “What is it, sir?” he asked, unable to take the burning silence.

  Simon yanked his gaze up from the floor and locked it on Cleeves. “They know things, Cleeves. They know things that they shouldn’t know, and are asking too much of me. If there’s one thing I will do before I die, I will get them for this.

  “I’m going to need you to take a letter to Marcus.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The Great Escape

  Nikolas, Christophe, and Marcus knew it would be only a matter of time before the King or one of the other Conventioneers noticed that the second batch of King’s-Horses that had been made weren’t the same as the first. Once they’d delivered them, the trio had started planning their escape from the kingdom.

  Nikolas clutched Isabella’s hand and reaffirmed his grip on the brown sack containing their meager belongings. He stared at Marcus nervously. “Where’s Christophe?” he asked, squinting in the moonlight. The plan had been for them to meet outside of the eastern castle wall at two in the morning. Nikolas glanced at his pocket watch; Christophe was fifteen minutes late. Christophe had never been late for anything since becoming a Conventioneer.

  Marcus held the secret door in the castle wall open, a hooded lantern in his other hand. “You two need to go. I’ll find him and send him out another way.”

  “But what about you?” asked Nikolas.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Isabella knowingly.

  Marcus nodded. “Now go. You have the map to that new mountaintop village of Minette. I have friends there who will help you establish a new life. Go, you’ll be safe there.” He handed Nikolas the lantern and disappeared, closing the secret door behind him.

  Marcus stood on the other side of the castle wall, wondering if the big bet he was making by sending Nikolas to the west coast would work. Only time would tell.

  “Lord Pieman!” yelled a soldier, running up to him.

  “How did you know to look for me here?” asked Marcus.

  “Conventioneer Stimple thought you might be around here,” he replied. “Sorry, my lord, but there are two Conventioneers missing and it is past curfew.”

  “Oh, that is of concern. Who are they?” asked Marcus, walking with the soldier away from the secret door.

  “Nikolas Klaus and Christophe Creangle,” replied the soldier. “Stimple did the inspection himself.”

  “Hmm,” said Marcus, rolling his eyes at Simon, once again, trying to intervene in plans where he was not invited to participate. “I’m afraid Conventioneer Klaus has drowned. I saw the body myself only a few minutes ago. I will tend to it, but Creangle…” Marcus rubbed his clean-shaven chin in thought. Despite the clearly close relationship between Nikolas and Christophe, Marcus had a very different relationship with Creangle. Christophe was always suspicious of Marcus and his ultimate intentions. “Check outside the northern castle wall. If I was Creangle, that’s how I’d try to escape. He’ll likely be heading eastwards.

  “Now, get me Creangle, alive!” commanded Marcus. “If you need me, I’ll be having a word with Conventioneer Stimple.” Marcus was determined to keep a tighter leash on Simon.

  Nikolas and Isabella moved swiftly on the moonlit forest path, guided by Nikolas’ mental map of the area and the hooded lantern’s yellow light.

  “Why are we stopping here?” asked Isabella, looking about.

  Nikolas grabbed a camouflaged blanket and revealed an original King’s-Horse.

  “I thought they were all destroyed,” said Isabella, confused. “Did you lie to me?”

  Nikolas reached into his brown bag for a shiny copper cube. After unlocking the heart-panel, he placed it into the King’s-Horse and attached the cables.

  “I did not lie, but I will admit to… shaping the truth,” said Nikolas, wincing. “Marcus couldn’t know that we had built eight of these, four of them… like this one.”

  Isabella laughed. “Hmm, there’s hope for you yet,” she said to her husband. “Why didn’t you tell Marcus?”

  “The man is my brother, yes? He is a wonderful man layered over a very determined one. Some things he has done, he has tried to shield me from. I still learned of some of these things. For the King’s-Horses, Christophe insisted we keep these just between us, and I think him correct, yes? Marcus isn’t escaping, is he?”

  Isabella smiled sadly at Nikolas as he did his final checks. She loved how his words often tumbled together, bumping into each other on the way out of his head, and she appreciated how he never asked about her relationship with Marcus. “No, he isn’t,” she replied.

  Nikolas stopped and gazed upon Isabella, her moonlit beauty momentarily distracting him. “A man such as he cannot untangle himself. He told me the story he needed me to believe. With his family and everything, he would never flee. He has never backed down from a battle in his life. He will thrive now, with no need to worry about me.”

  Isabella nodded. “Nikolas?”

  He smiled at her, wondering what he’d forgotten.

  “Get on the King’s-Horse. You’ve checked everything ten times.”

  “I know, it’s just that I want to make sure—”

  “Nikolas?” she said sweetly.

  She was right. She had the wonderful ability to clear the fog of complication from his thinking and remove worry. Things just became simple and clear when she spoke.

  “Of course,” he said, helping her on the King’s-Horse and then getting on himself. Nikolas then started it, and Isabella let out a startled scream. The mechanical horse vibrated, its eyes glowing like lanterns, cl
icks and whirls emanating from various parts.

  “Have you used it before?” she asked.

  “Um… you would not be comfortable with the answer,” he replied sheepishly.

  “Yes,” said Isabella, giving his hands a squeeze as he held the reins. “This is a lot more exciting than I expected.”

  “Next, Minette.”

  “Well, maybe,” said Isabella mischievously. “All I promised Marcus is that we’d end up there. Let’s see where the road takes us.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Bite Marks

  Tee couldn’t stop her body from shaking with adrenaline as she dragged the two long, thick branches back to Elly. She’d carefully cut away Elly’s blouse from around the wound, cleaned the wound with the vinegar, and bandaged her up with a fresh cloth.

  Tee had ripped off her sleeves and tied them around Elly’s waist to apply pressure. Every time she remembered Elly’s cries of pain, Tee’s eyes welled up.

  As she approached Elly, who was wrapped in both of their yellow-hooded cloaks, she noticed that LeLoup, Franklin, the henchmen, and the Liar were gone. She glanced around nervously. Tee felt her mind circling the edge of despair. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

  Elly’s pain-filled groan bolstered Tee’s determination. Dropping the branches to the ground, Tee dug into her backpack and pulled out thick black cables she’d taken from her grandfather’s lab. For a moment, she thought of when the same type of cable had saved her life from LeLoup; now she hoped it would save Elly’s from him. Tee diligently wove it back and forth between the branches.

  “Elly, are you still with me?” asked Tee, steeling herself for the next task.

  “Huh? Tee?” Elly replied sleepily.

  “I’m going to have to move you onto the stretcher. It’s going to hurt.” Tee hesitated for a moment, and then tried to do it as quickly as she could. Elly’s screams shredded Tee’s soul.

  With Elly properly on the stretcher, Tee kneeled down on the forest floor and leaned forward, letting some of her bottled-up emotions out.

  Tee felt a touch and turned, surprised to see Elly reaching out to her. “You’re my hero, Tee. I love you,” said Elly, very slowly, her eyes barely open.

  Taking Elly’s hand carefully and tucking it back in, Tee searched the forest for any sign as to which direction she should go.

  The dirty, sleeveless Tee shook her head. “At least don’t rain,” she whispered. She put on her backpack, leaving her two charged shock-sticks peeking out the top and putting the other two between Elly and the stretcher, just in case.

  Talking to herself to keep herself focused, Tee said, “All you have to do now is pick up the ends and drag Elly to the road. It’s… that way.” Tee pointed herself in an arbitrary direction. “You can do this. You have to do this.” Tee nodded to herself and picked up the branches.

  Five feet later, Tee fell, cutting her hand on the improvised handle of the stretcher. She was discouraged by how heavy it was. “You have to do this,” she repeated to herself. “Just think, think.” Tee reached into her backpack for a knife, and cut off her pant legs. After wrapping them around her palms, she grabbed hold of the branches again and ordered herself forward. “One more step, Tee. You can do this.”

  Tee growled as she saw the road come into view. “Another step, Tee. Another step. Don’t let the pain win,” she said to herself, exhausted. She was swaying back and forth as she pulled the stretcher forward.

  As Tee’s foot touched the road, she put down the stretcher carefully. Her arms were decorated with cuts, her hands with blisters. She bent down, her hands on her knees, a heavy mix of emotions coming out as laughter and tears.

  “Elly, we made it,” said Tee, peering back at her friend. “Elly?”

  Her face was pale, her lips bluish. Tee’s chin trembled as she waited anxiously for Elly to take a painful breath. Tee nodded. “Good, you remember the no dying rule. You had me scared, Elly.”

  Tee stood up and prepared to pick up the branches when she heard a heartwarming clip-clopping sound. Watching eagerly, Tee finally saw a horse and cart come around the bend.

  She took off her backpack, removing one shock-stick and holding it behind her back.

  The driver brought his horse to a gradual stop beside Tee and looked her up and down. He was greasy-looking, with two days of growth on his face and dark hair that was gray at the temples. His belly stuck out half way to his knees.

  He glanced at Elly and assessed their situation. Pushing up his three-point hat with a sausage-thick finger, he gave Tee a smile that made her shiver with discomfort.

  “Hello, pretty girl. It looks like you need some help.”

  Tee stared at the man, thinking.

  He looked Tee over again. “I could be nice to you, if you’d be nice to me.”

  Tee glanced at Elly, a million thoughts going through her head. She’d already calculated twice that unless she got her friend to Costello within the next couple of hours, Elly would die for certain.

  Returning her gaze to the cart driver, Tee asked herself: how far was she willing to go to save Elly’s life?

  The driver’s grin widened, chilling Tee.

  “So are we going to help each other?” he asked.

  Tee dropped her gaze to the ground. How far are you willing to go to save her, Tee? Her hands started shaking and Tee stared at the man. “I need your horse and cart,” she said softly.

  He slid over on his bench. “I know. Why don’t you come up here and we can figure things out?” he said, patting the spot beside him.

  Tee repeated, this time louder and with bite in her voice, “I need your horse and cart.” She revealed the shock-stick from behind her back.

  He chuckled. “That’s a nice piece of metal you have there. Now why don’t you put it down, and come keep me company up here. You want me to help your friend, don’t you?”

  Tee growled as her eyes pierced the driver. “I need your horse and cart!” she yelled, leaping forward.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Fare Warning

  Nikolas stared at the grand entrance, with its cathedral ceiling and stained glass. Marcus’ presidential mansion was almost too much for him to take in, having been away from such opulence for so long.

  Marcus glanced up and around. “Rather extraordinary, isn’t it? It was designed to make visitors feel small, to give the queen a political advantage immediately upon greeting them. Supposedly, Queen Pastora Willard designed it herself, over two hundred and forty years ago.

  “I had the entranceway restored to its original glory eight or nine years ago. I find it quite breathtaking.”

  Nikolas turned his gaze to the ten-foot-tall paintings, and then the servants in white, who moved about almost invisibly in the background.

  “The paintings, and the servant uniforms, are original as well. She had the most successful reign of any monarch in this part of the continent.”

  Nikolas felt one of the several marble columns with his rough hands. The coolness and smoothness reminded him of the ones in his adolescent home. “You are the president for life here in Teuton, yes?”

  Marcus nodded. “Of the Republic of Teuton, yes. There was a royal rebellion in the southeast when I was asked to become president. The royals didn’t have enough power to win, but had enough to make life difficult if we wanted to reclaim their stronghold, so I gave them what they wanted.”

  Nikolas folded his arms. That didn’t sound like Marcus at all.

  Marcus smiled. “I gave them free rein over their lands, but I prevented their merchants from coming into Teuton or traveling into Parush. They were boxed in, and when they tried to levy taxes on the peasants they had rallied, it imploded. When the royals fell, I opened the borders. There have been serious talks about reunification going on for quite some time. It’s for my successor to worry about, not me.”

  In all the years Nikolas had known Marcus, he’d never heard him acknowledge his mortality. Marcus’ personality and ambi
tions sometimes seemed like they could hold back the realities of life until a moment of his choosing.

  Marcus finished talking with a servant and turned to Nikolas. “Come, let’s go to the main study.”

  As they walked, Nikolas took in the detail. He appreciated the artistry of those that had put such a place together, but cringed at the excess. He hadn’t realized until just now how much his perspective had changed over time.

  “That’s Gilbert’s Horror,” remarked Nikolas, pointing to a famous painting denoting the beginning of the Era of Abominators.

  Marcus stopped beside the chilling painting. “I found it in a small village called Bodear. I can’t remember why I was there, but I learned they had protected our kind from the beginning. When the elders of the village learned who I was, they gave it to me. They asked me to hang it so that I would see it every day.

  “I’ve returned to that village often. They are wonderful people. They seem very simple, but they understand a lot about physics and mathematics on a philosophical level. Whenever I go, it feels like a cleansing of the mind. I do some of my best work there. They help keep me grounded. Well, as grounded as I can be,” he said with a smile.

  Nikolas nodded, studying the painting. He turned to Marcus in wonder. “Did you do all the reforms you’d hoped?” he asked.

  Marcus frowned. “In Teuton, I’ve been able to enact most of them, but it will take a generation or two for the reforms and educational changes to really have the needed effect. Old habits and mindsets are difficult to change. Elsewhere, I’ve had less success. In Freland, it went better than in the inexplicably disintegrating southern kingdoms. My intuition tells me it’s related to Abeland. He hasn’t written to me in quite some time.

  “The greatest lesson I’ve learned is that you have to make it more painful, more difficult, to stay with how things are, than to move to the new way things need to be. People are actually the hardest problem to solve, but I believe I have a solution.”