“My Lord,” Verci said, doing his best to navigate the stairs with his foot and cane. “This is a sensitive operation in which I have embedded a few operatives in tonight’s festivities.”
Henterman turned on him, stopping in the middle of the stairs. “You’re telling me that Druth Intelligence infiltrated my party? And left me unawares?”
“I do not have the words to properly apologize,” Verci said. “We were still trying to ascertain their goals. We have very little idea why they targeted you.” Verci decided, if he had gone this far, he might as well take a chance. “Something to do with an Andrendon Project.”
Henterman’s eyes went wide. “Yes. That little man mentioned such a thing, with real . . . vehemence. I’ve not heard of such a thing—although, come to think of it . . .”
He was lost in thought for a moment.
“Anything you know may be of aid, my Lord,” Verci said.
“There is something vaguely familiar about the name. I’ve put some of my holdings in investments—projects of improvements, industry, or infrastructure around the city.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’ll confess, I’m not sure what it all is about, but I’ll gladly put my name on a bridge or park or such. There certainly could be an Andrendon or such among them. You’d have to ask my man Ender about it.”
“And he is where?”
“That, Captain, is an excellent question.”
* * *
Helene’s head was starting to clear—that was some powerful hoodoo Treggin had hit her with. If it hadn’t been for Julie, she’d—
She didn’t want to think about it.
She looked around. The kitchens had cleared out, probably in the commotion.
“We need to move,” she said. Treggin was still a lump of nothing on the ground. “We need to get him in one of the carriages.”
“Him, who?” Helene looked up. Standing in the hallway entrance was Win. “What have you done to Mister Ender?”
“He was hurting them,” Julien said simply.
“And he’s a mage,” Helene said. “We have questions for him.”
“Why, for the saint’s sake?” Win asked. “There’s much commotion all around the house, and if anyone but me—”
“Win,” Mila said sharply. She looked like she could barely stand, pale as curdled milk, but she also looked like she was willing to fight every armed man in the house if she had to. “This is Treggin. He’s directly involved with everything happening in our neighborhood.”
“How, what . . .” Win started. “Fine, it doesn’t matter. We need to get you all out of here.”
“Not until we know what he’s doing,” Helene said.
“If you want to question him, then do it somewhere else,” Win said. “The only reason there are no guards here is because of Asti’s mess upstairs.”
“Then let’s get him and us out of here,” Mila said.
Julien scooped up Treggin’s body. “Looks like this job is done,” he said with a resigned sigh.
“Sorry,” Helene said. “We’ll—we’ll figure something out later. All right?”
“Just go!” Win said. “I’ll—I’ll think of something.”
As they raced behind the house up to the carriage house, Mila grabbed hold of Helene’s hand. She didn’t seem like she could keep up. Helene wasn’t going to leave her behind this time.
“Why isn’t Win coming?” she asked.
“He’s covering our escape,” Helene said, hoping that was true. “We’ll see him later.”
At the carriage house, a dozen drivers were abuzz. The action in the house hadn’t seemed to have reached here—instead, it was the action of Pilsen Gin, who was up on a platform, downright shouting and getting all the attention.
“And bring the lightning! Bring the storm! For my sword will hold back those as well! My kingdom shall be mine, and brook no invaders!” He seemed—altered. Helene couldn’t tell if he was drunk, or so deep into his performance he didn’t know where he was. But there was no sense that he was playing, no spark in his eye. He didn’t even seem to note their arrival.
“What is he doing?” Julien asked.
“I think it’s Maradaine the First,” Mila said. “Verci said it was his triumph on the stage.”
“It’s The Autumn of Corringshire,” Helene said. That had been Grandmother’s favorite. “Let’s get to the carriage, and get out, before those folks realize we’re carrying a body.”
Almer came running up, out of breath, carrying a sack, his head bleeding. Helene grabbed him and pulled him behind the carriage, out of sight of the drivers and guards watching Pilsen.
“What happened to you?” Helene asked.
Almer looked stunned for a moment. “The woman came out of the window. She clobbered me. Asti followed, growling at her. And Verci was inside. I—I had this sack that Asti threw out.”
Helene glanced at the bag, full of documents. Probably no money. Blast and blazes. “And we need to get that out of here. Julien, pull Pilsen out of there, take that carriage.”
“Hel!” Mila said. “Asti and Verci both!”
Julien was at the carriage, having loaded Treggin’s inert body into it. He was now helping Pilsen, despite the protests of the other drivers. Pilsen was also protesting, that he shouldn’t be taken away from his crowd. Something was far from right with him.
“All right, we need . . .” Helene faltered. “We need to . . .”
She wanted to help Verci, but there wasn’t much she could do if he was inside the house and caught. And if Asti was chasing Liora, he’d . . . he’d probably need help. Mila was in poor shape, as was Almer and Pilsen. And she wanted Julien far away from Liora Rand.
It fell on her. Asti had told her, she had to step up.
“Julien!” she said. “Give me The Action and the Rainmaker.”
Julien tossed the crossbows to her.
“Get them all out of here,” she told Mila. “Almer’s hurt, Pilsen’s . . . I don’t even know. Take charge.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Mila jumped up on the carriage, snapping the reins. Helene was surprised she even knew how to do that.
Helene checked the Rainmaker. Loaded, ready, overcranked to the fourth stop.
Out in the yard, an animalistic roar cut through the air. If Helene didn’t recognize the voice, she would have thought it was one of those great wildcats she’d heard about.
Asti was out there, like a beast on the hunt. She raced out of the carriage house to the main grounds, and almost collided with someone.
“Look at you.” Lady Melania, standing in her way with a bemused look on her face. “I did say to whistle if you had something fun to do.”
Helene had no time or interest in banter. If this woman wanted to help, Helene wasn’t about to pass it up. She handed The Action to her. “Then come along, your Ladyship. I’ve got people to save.”
* * *
Asti remembered everything.
In the wardrobe, his mind had suddenly opened up, locks to doors he didn’t even know were in his skull popped loose.
He remembered what Liora had said on Haptur months ago.
“The Brotherhood thanks you for the sacrifice.”
He had no idea what that meant, but he would know. After he slit Liora open and danced in her blood.
He remembered the rest. Being powerless, unable to stop himself as he nearly drove his knives into Verci’s heart. Like a passenger in his own skull. It was only when he saw Henterman, tried to kill him that . . . something snapped, and he was himself again.
Or as much himself as he ever could be.
He barely realized that Almer was still on the ground as he dropped down the rope, his attention entirely on Liora. She was running toward the lake. Perhaps she had a plan in that direction—a boat, swim away.
Didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to make it.
He charged at her, not even realizing that he was howling as he ran. She stopped in her run, turning on one heel and planting a foot in his chest.
“You stupid man,” she snarled.
“What did you—” he said, swiping at her with his knife. She blocked him easily, and jammed an elbow into his nose.
“You could have just killed a bunch of guards and gone home,” she said, launching a mighty punch at his chest. He blocked that, tried to slice her arm, but she twisted out of the way.
“I’m still in a killing mood,” Asti said.
“That’s sweet. Verci wasn’t enough for you?”
That made the beast take hold for just a moment, a lashing blow of pure rage into her face. She grinned and wiped the blood away as she darted back.
“He’s better than you give him credit for,” Asti said.
“He lived? Pity.”
“You won’t.”
He threw one knife, which she caught—but he was expecting that. He dashed in, ready to slice her belly open. She nimbly avoided him.
“Asti, dear, I could play this game all night,” she said, slipping away from his blows again. “But I don’t have the time to waste.”
She reached into her coat and threw three darts. Asti dodged two, but the third hit him in the arm.
And then the arm went numb, followed shortly by the rest of his body. He fell down to the ground, unable to move anything but his eyes.
“Oh, Asti,” she said, fingering his knife. “I really did want to keep you around as a useful tool. But I think you and yours are going to be too much trouble.”
Chapter 28
HELENE RAN IN THE direction of the howls. Guards were now shouting from the house, dogs barking. Time was not on her side.
Off by the lake, she saw two figures fighting. Even in the dim of the moonlight, she could tell it was Asti and Liora. They were furious in the fight, absolutely savage.
Then Asti fell. Liora was on top of him.
No time to get any closer. She brought up the Rainmaker to her sight.
“You’re too far, dear,” Lady Melania said.
Liora brought up a knife.
“Not with this old girl,” Helene said. Time to see what this sort of overcrank could do to a person.
Liora in her sights, Helene took the shot.
The bolt hit Liora in the arm. It didn’t just hit, it tore through, taking flesh with it. Liora’s scream pierced through the night, like nothing Helene had ever heard before. Looking through the scope, Helene saw that her arm was hanging limp at the shoulder, as if nothing but pure willpower kept it from falling off. Liora held onto it, and started limping away.
“Well done,” Lady Melania whispered.
“Aiming for her body,” Helene said.
They ran over to Asti, whose whole body was trembling.
“Asti,” Helene said, kneeling next to him. “What’s wrong?”
“He—he—he—” was all he managed to say.
“I’ve got you,” she said. She looked around. She didn’t see where Liora had gone.
“Do you see her?” she asked Lady Melania.
“No, too dark. Though there’s a lovely trail of blood. I’m amazed the poor girl didn’t pass out.” She ran toward the lake.
“Hel—” Asti still was in tremors. He managed to reach up to her face.
“You’re all right,” Helene said.
“Cr—crew?” He was fighting just to speak.
“Mila got most of them out already. With those papers.”
“G—g—good.”
“And Treggin.”
He just looked confused.
“Verci. I almost—”
Helene nodded. “Let me get you safe, and then I’ll find him.” She hauled him up to his feet.
Lady Melania came back. “She had a boat at the ready. And used it one-handed.” She held up The Action, now unloaded. “Afraid I don’t have your aim.”
“Who is this?” Asti asked.
“A strange friend,” Helene said. “She’s—helping.”
“Yes, and the fun is going to turn to not fun rather shortly,” she said. “I think I should unceremoniously throw the two of you in the back of my carriage. Guards and dogs are all about, and that’s going to be a nuisance.” She got on Asti’s other side. “Let’s be about it, then.”
“Why is she helping us?” Asti wheezed out as they reached the carriage house.
“We don’t have time for a complicated answer,” she said as she opened her carriage door, giving a nod to her driver. “The short answer is, I realized you and your friends were planning on doing something awful to Nathaniel Henterman.” She pushed them both inside. “And I approve.” She shut them in.
Asti was still breathing shallow. “Are we safe?”
“I think so,” Helene said. She said it with much more confidence than she felt.
Asti nodded. That seemed to be all he could physically manage for the moment. And then his head went down, tears flowing out of his eyes.
“Hey, hey, Rynax,” she said sharply. “No crying on the job.”
That didn’t stop him at all. If anything, it opened up the river.
“Hey,” she said. “Verci’s going to be fine, I’m sure.”
“But I’m not,” Asti said. “I don’t know if I ever will be.”
* * *
Verci had found himself in the last place he would have thought he’d end up this night—sitting in Lord Henterman’s lounge and being handed a drink by the man himself. He had been quietly escorted there, to not disturb what remained of the party.
“I appreciate your discretion, Lord Henterman.”
“Well, I understand that the services, including you boys in Intelligence, do what you must to protect Druthal.” He pointed to the portrait on the wall. “My grandfather served in the War. An officer, one of the last ones at Khol Taia.”
Verci knew he should have known what Khol Taia was, but he never remembered the history lessons.
“He must have been a good man.”
“I suppose, died when I was a tot.” He shook his head and took his own drink. “I suppose I’m still at a loss. Tonight has been a lot to take in.”
“Your wife was betraying you,” Verci said.
“Yes, well . . . I suspected that was coming. But I did not expect it to quite take this form.”
“Can you give me any details of what she did, what your suspicions were?”
“Well, a man just knows, doesn’t he?” He sipped at his drink. “She seduced me in a whirlwind, and I embraced the impulse. She has that effect, you know? But once the bracelets were on our wrists, that dried up.”
Verci felt some sympathy for the man—he was definitely a victim at the end of this night, and Verci had some certainty he had nothing intentional to do with tragedies in North Seleth. He had likely invested in whatever the Andrendon Project was—there was probably a mountain of proof behind that. But he was hardly the architect of anything nefarious.
Simply put, Lord Henterman seemed far too frivolous to be the mastermind they were seeking.
The lounge doors opened, and a butler walked in. Win Greenfield, to be specific.
“Ah, Ungar, good man. All handled?”
He nodded. “I’ve . . . discreetly—let the guests who were working with the captain here know that their mission is over, and invited them to leave.”
“Excellent,” Henterman said. He got to his feet. “And have the guards caught her Ladyship or her accomplices?”
“I’m afraid there’ve not been any reports of anyone being caught, my Lord.” Win threw a pointed look at Verci.
“Damn and blazes,” Henterman said. He finished his drink and put it down. “I’ll be a laugh
ingstock, it’s true.”
“No, sir,” Win said. “We’ll clean up the study, and deal with any scandal.”
“Good man, Ungar,” he said. He sighed. “Captain, I presume I’m keeping you.”
“Yes,” Verci said, getting to his feet. “I—and the service—appreciate your cooperation.”
“Glad to give it,” Henterman said. “Ungar, see the captain out.”
“Of course, sir,” Win said, opening the door. “Captain, if you will.”
Win stayed in character until they got out of the house to the driveway. It was at that point that he finally started laughing. “Captain?”
“I had to think of something,” Verci said. “And I’m quite amazed he bought it.”
“I think . . .” Win held his thought for a moment. “His life was just shattered. I understand what that’s like. He was ready to accept any rope someone threw to him.”
“I actually told him the truth, at least about his wife.”
“Hmm,” Win said, nodding. “So, I told Kennith and . . . what’s that young man’s name?”
“Vellun.”
“I told them to go and wait for you about two blocks away on Flynn.”
“You’re going to make me walk two blocks to the carriage on this foot?”
Win smiled, almost solemnly. “I’ve heard the reports from the folks looking about the grounds. No sign of anyone else. There is, apparently, a fair amount of blood on the lawn near the boathouse. I do know that Julien slipped off with Helene and Mila.”
“Which is for the best. So we’re clear?” They had reached the gate, still hanging a few paces away so that they were out of earshot of the gatekeepers.
“To the best of my knowledge, you and I are the last ones on the grounds, yes.” Win looked down at the ground. “Helene and Mila said that Mister Ender—the Lord’s attaché—was actually someone named Treggin? They took him with them.”
Lady Henterman's Wardrobe Page 34
