Iron Garland (Harbinger Book 3)

by Jeff Wheeler

  She landed the tempest in the docking yard, only to find Raj Sarin floating down from the upper balcony. Cettie flung herself down the rope ladder with Rand following a few steps behind. There was a haunted look in the Bhikhu’s face, his eyes bloodshot and his mouth pressed down in a frown of misery.

  When she reached him, she embraced him and heard him mumble “Cettie Saeed” with a strain of anguish in his voice. He certainly thought Fitzroy was dead.

  No, it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true.

  Before she could answer his forlorn greeting, the main doors of the manor opened, and she saw Lady Maren emerge with Sir Jordan Harding. And then her heart lurched at the sight of Adam Creigh following them in his dress uniform. Just the sight of him brought her up short, the long absence making her ache. She yearned to throw propriety aside and run to him . . . and then she noticed a tear-stricken Anna clinging to his arm.

  The sight of them together was like a physical blow to her heart. She covered her mouth, still not comprehending, still not willing to believe it. The core of who Cettie was began to wobble. Could she be wrong? What if her vision had not come to pass because some circumstance, however small, had changed?

  No, no, no! She froze in that instant, trying to rally her courage, her conviction.

  Lady Maren arrived first, sweeping Cettie into a tight hug. She clung to her mother, feeling tears burn in her eyes. But crying was akin to mourning, and she would not do it. She clenched her teeth and pulled away, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” said Sir Jordan, his normal humor extinguished by the ill news he’d brought. “I wish there was something I could do to bring him back.”

  A gust of wind blew across the yard, sending Cettie’s hair flying. She flung it back defiantly with a shake of her head.

  “Father is not dead,” she said with determination.

  Sir Jordan’s face was grave. “I saw his hurricane go down myself, Cettie. Raj Sarin saw him go under the waves. We searched for him, but there was no sign. The life of his crew meant more to him than his own life. He’s not the only one who perished. Lord Lawton is dead, and so is another admiral. The empire has never been this vulnerable.”

  “Cettie,” Lady Maren said in despair, shaking her head.

  “He is not dead!” Cettie insisted, unable to hold the words back any longer. She gripped Maren’s arms. “Remember? I saw him, at the court of Kingfountain. I saw him with Sera. It was a vision, just like the others. They all came to pass, so this will too.”

  “What are you saying? What visions?” Adam pressed, his face a mixture of surprise and sorrow. Anna nestled closer to him, her eyes brightening with hope.

  They all stared at her. Her secret had come out at last.

  They all retreated to the sitting room for Cettie to tell her story. The wind howled outside as she told them that she was a harbinger. That her visions had helped Fitzroy predict the movements and tactics of General Montpensier’s army. She recounted the visions in turn and explained that they’d begun after she’d taken the Test at Muirwood Abbey.

  Adam seemed especially struck by the news, and his look told her that he was disappointed she hadn’t confided in him sooner.

  “You have to tell the Ministry of War,” Rand said, his expression serious as he paced slowly in the room.

  “Absolutely,” Sir Jordan concurred. “The privy council must be informed as well. The prime minister.”

  “No,” Cettie said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to get drawn in to all of that.”

  “We have no choice!” Sir Jordan said passionately. “Have you had any other visions since the last one? I know for a fact that Miss Fitzempress has already departed for Kingfountain to negotiate a cessation of hostilities. She left yesterday.”

  “So you believe me?” Cettie asked. “If what I saw is true, then Father is still alive.” And it was comforting to think that he was with her dear friend in that foreign place.

  “Of course we believe you,” Adam said, shaking his head. “There could be no doubt on that point.”

  “Even knowing what you’d told me,” Mother said, “I’m afraid I doubted. The news was too horrible. Everyone seemed so certain. I still . . . I don’t know what to think. Your other vision didn’t show that we would lose so much in the battle—it only told us where they would strike.”

  “I know,” Cettie agreed. “If I had seen the devastation, I would have tried to prevent it.”

  “Can you change the future?” Rand asked. “Or only see it?”

  “I don’t know,” Cettie answered. They were all still looking to her. But the mood had changed. Hope was emerging again, like the sun from behind a cloud.

  Sir Jordan approached her. “The prime minister needs to know this, Cettie. Surely you see that.”

  She bit her lip and gave him a miserable look. “The prime minister doesn’t like me very much.”

  “Nevertheless, he must be told,” Sir Jordan continued. “Why did Fitzroy keep this a secret?”

  Lady Maren spoke up. “The three of us made this decision years ago, Jordan. There is already a strong prejudice against those from the Fells. The privy council would be slower to act on the instincts of a young girl than a trusted member of the council. We also didn’t know how frequently the visions would come. My husband never claimed to be a harbinger. That reputation has blossomed on its own. But I agree, Cettie, that we cannot keep the truth away from them any longer. Not when there is so much at risk.”

  It pained Cettie’s heart to hear it, even though she secretly agreed. The time had come for her to stop hiding.

  “This is what I propose, Maren,” Sir Jordan said seriously. “I will return to Lockhaven this moment and notify the prime minister. If he asks to see her, then I will contact you, and she can come.”

  “I don’t trust Lord Welles,” Cettie said, wringing her hands. “Not after what he did to Sera.”

  “What did he do?” Rand asked in confusion.

  Cettie shook her head. Her feelings were too twisted and confused for her to talk about it just yet.

  Sir Jordan’s countenance was grim. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Young lady, despite your feelings, we must do this. I have a duty to protect and defend the empire. Even now, the privy council is summoning its final reserves to defend Lockhaven, leaving the mirror gates unprotected. If Montpensier attacks right now, he can conquer our empire almost without opposition. And there are doubts”—he lowered his voice more confidentially—“that the emperor is suitably strong in the Mysteries to control the defenses.” He shook his head. “These are perilous times. I’ve never seen our world at so much risk. Welles must be told. Do you know what our enemies would do if they conquered us? They would destroy our society and steal our advancements, just as they have stolen from us in the past. They would compel us to adopt their ways and their religion under pain of death. It would be a massacre, Cettie.” He put his hand on his chest and tapped it. “And I’ve sworn a covenant to defend my beliefs, my people.”

  Cettie knew he was right and lowered her head. She nodded glumly.

  “Well, at least we depart Fog Willows with better news than we came here with,” Sir Jordan added with a lighthearted chuckle. They all rose from their seats. “I’ll send word immediately. Come along, good doctor. Your next patient is the empire. Let us go save her.”

  Anna looked crestfallen that he’d be departing so soon. She immediately wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his chest. Adam looked surprised by the show—his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and his arms bent at awkward angles in an attempt to keep the hug from being inappropriate.

  “Be safe,” Anna said, squeezing him even harder, then pulled away.

  Lady Maren gave her daughter a stern look.

  Adam gave Cettie a helpless look. He wanted to talk to her, she could see it in his eyes, but Sir Jordan was already heading to the door.

  “I’ll walk you to your ship, Sir Jo
rdan,” Cettie offered. Adam looked relieved.

  “Very well. We should arrive at Lockhaven by midnight. Expect a zephyr by afternoon.”

  Cettie accompanied them down the main corridor toward the front doors. Kinross approached quickly and asked her if the gentlemen were leaving or staying for dinner.

  “They are leaving straightaway,” Cettie told him.

  The footmen at the door opened it for them. Cettie didn’t have a cloak to protect her from the howling wind, but she braved the inclement weather and followed the two men to their sky ship.

  “I’ll see you next in Lockhaven, I have no doubt!” Sir Jordan shouted over the bluster. He started up the rope ladder.

  Cettie stood at the base, arms folded, shivering, and Adam retrieved his own cloak and set it on her shoulders.

  “You’ll need it,” she objected.

  He stood at the base of the sky ship, hands on his hips, the wind tousling his dark hair. Oh, how she wished to reach out and touch it, to touch him. “I hope this war ends soon,” he said, half shouting to be heard. “It is not worth the cost we’ve paid.” He glanced back at the manor, a conflicted look on his face. “Cettie, I . . .” His voice trailed off.

  Part of her feared what he might say. The other part longed to hear it. Sir Jordan was nearing the railing above.

  Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of powerful emotion flooded her chest. The intensity of it took her breath away. Her love for him nearly made her burst apart inside. Oh, that he might want to be with her, in the Fells or anywhere in the world. It wouldn’t matter so long as they were together. She nearly confessed her feelings, saying words that could not be unsaid. But she was just shy enough that she didn’t dare. She wanted him to say those words first, to end her suspense and torment, to end the uncertainty about his connection with Anna.

  “I pray it ends soon,” he said, the wind nearly extinguishing his voice.

  “Get up here, Creigh!” Sir Jordan hollered.

  Adam gave her a final miserable look, as if parting from her was ripping him in half. Then he turned and reached for the ladder rungs. Cettie took off the cloak and put it around his shoulders instead. Just touching him sent a spasm of feeling down her arms.

  He hung his head, then turned and smiled at her as she fastened the clasp at his throat.

  “Be safe,” she told him.

  Cettie watched, shivering in the wind, as he hoisted himself up the ladder, and she didn’t move until the tempest was out of sight.

  The wind raged all through the night. Rand Patchett had taken the afternoon zephyr post back to Gimmerton Sough, but he said his good-byes to the family first. They’d explained the circumstances of their journey to Dolcoath and Billerbeck Abbey, and Lady Maren had thanked him profusely for his help. She was especially pleased to hear that Stephen’s injury was not too serious, and his leadership had increased his standing at the mines.

  Rand had given Cettie a tender look before departing, which caused her some small feeling of alarm. He was a good man, and their friendship had brought them closer together during the journey. But she was still utterly devoted to Adam. If only Anna would fall in love with Rand.

  The following morning, she was anticipating the arrival of a military zephyr with news, but she had so many duties to attend to she barely noticed the Control Leering’s alert when a tempest approached the manor. She paused in her perusal of the account books. Something was familiar about this ship. Cettie tried to activate the defenses of Fog Willows, but it was too late—the tempest was already landing in the docking yard.

  She hurried out of the study and walked down the steps. Kinross was already striding down the hall ahead of her.

  “I thought you said we were expecting a military zephyr,” he told her as she caught up to him.

  “This isn’t the ship we’re waiting for. This is one of those merchant tempests that tried to force a landing here earlier. Captain Francis.”

  Kinross’s eyes widened with shock. “I don’t think Lady Maren—”

  “Can you get Raj Sarin, please?” Cettie interrupted.

  Kinross smiled. “At once.”

  When she reached the front door, she arrived just in time to see Captain Francis striding up to the entryway. He’d not wasted any time in disembarking. He wore a heavy gray wool coat over a fine jerkin and impressive buckled boots. His dark hair was windswept and had a touch of gray. He was Lady Maren’s own age, much younger than Fitzroy.

  “Ah, you must be the keeper,” he said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “The wind has been ferocious.”

  “What are you doing here, Captain Francis?” she demanded, blocking the doors and folding her arms.

  “I’m here to comfort a grieving widow,” he said. “Stand aside.”

  “You didn’t waste much time,” Cettie countered.

  “I’ve wasted too much already,” he said peevishly. “Stand aside.” He tried to move around her, but she blocked him again.

  “You are not welcome at Fog Willows.”

  He arched his eyebrows at her and snorted. “What business is it of yours who Maren sees? I’m her friend from past days. She’ll want to see me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cettie replied. “I believe her last words to you were never to return.”

  His look smoldered with anger. “But things have changed, you little chit of girl. Her husband is dead. There is nothing improper about it now. She has the right to see anyone she chooses and to welcome me into her manor.” He glanced up at the doors. “When I become its new master, you will be the first one to go.”

  Behind him, she watched Raj Sarin slowly descend from the air. She couldn’t conceal a smirk.

  The visitor saw her look and whirled around, startled by the sudden arrival.

  “How did you—?”

  “I believe the keeper of Fog Willows bid you to leave, sir,” Raj Sarin said respectfully.

  The captain glowered at them. “You are both servants!” he roared.

  His anger and disrespect made Cettie shudder inside, but she would not quail before him. “That may be true,” she answered, “but we serve the family’s interests. Not yours.”

  The captain’s face twisted with fury. She saw him fling aside his coat, revealing a pistol in his belt.

  That was when Raj Sarin humbled him the Bhikhu way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY−FOUR

  DIVULGING

  A day went by, then two, but the memory of Clive Francis’s bloodied nose, twisted wrist, and his anguished cries of pain did not fade from Cettie’s mind. In fact, it often made her smile. Lady Maren had shaken her head at the news of what Raj Sarin had done to her former paramour, reiterating that she wanted nothing to do with the man. But she had failed to mask her own pleased smile. Surely Clive had deserved to be taken down a notch. As the days progressed, however, Cettie’s anxiety grew steadily. She watched the skies and kept the manor ready. She was sickened by the thought of what would come of her revelation to Sir Jordan, but her responsibilities kept her busy.

  Since word of Father’s supposed death had spread throughout the realm, they received sympathy notes, bouquets of flowers, ribboned garlands, and other things from those who admired and respected Fitzroy. Kinross was perplexed by the influx of tributes, but ultimately he arranged them on tables for the family to peruse at their leisure. Cettie was encouraged by the volume of well-wishes, most of which were from people she didn’t know. It shouldn’t have surprised her, though, especially since she esteemed Fitzroy so highly herself.

  She was in the middle of a discussion with Kinross about the accounts when the zephyr post arrived. She saw the ship land through the Leering’s eyes, and much to her startlement, Joses disembarked and rushed toward the front doors of the manor.

  “Is something troubling you?” Kinross asked her, noticing her altered mood.

  “Joses has returned,” she said. They exchanged a look and hastened to the main doors.

  Her friend had let himself in, his hair wild fr
om the windy ride, his expression grave.

  “What’s happened?” Cettie asked in concern.

  “Mr. Batewinch sent me,” Joses said. “He wondered if you could come again.”

  “Is it serious?”

  Joses nodded. “Mr. Patchett is much altered since your journey. He’s angry, shouts at everyone. He’s a different man than he was before.”

  What had happened to change him so? She wondered if the Control Leering in Gimmerton Sough was still working as it should.

  “Has he turned violent? Did he strike Mr. Batewinch?”

  Joses shook his head. “No, Cettie. Not yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. Something set him off, and I fear he has truly gone mad. Batewinch thinks you might be able to help. Rand has had nothing but kind things to say about you, about the journey you took together. But the day after you returned, I couldn’t wake him, and then he snarled and threatened me. Something is not right with him.”

  Kinross looked at Cettie with blatant worry. “What can you do, Miss Cettie? I think perhaps it is time the Law were called upon to intervene.”

  She sighed. “I can try at the least.”

  Kinross pursed his lips. “If you go, then I want you to take Raj Sarin as well.”

  Cettie frowned. “I am capable of defending myself.”

  “And I’ll be there too,” Joses said.

  But Kinross would have none of it. “No, I think Joses should stay and Raj Sarin should go. It would make me feel better if he went with you. Mr. Patchett is a dragoon, after all.”

  “I’ll confer with Lady Maren first,” Cettie said. She gave Joses a warm smile. “You did the right thing coming here.”

  “I know,” he said. Then he shuddered. “Cettie, it reminded me of what it felt like in the Fells. Be careful.”

  Lady Maren agreed with Kinross’s suggestion, and Raj Sarin went with her to Gimmerton Sough. They left that afternoon on the family tempest and rode the jostling air to the neighboring manor. The Bhikhu stood on the prow, eyes shut in deep thought as Cettie piloted the sky ship. She was grateful that Joses was safe and sound back at Fog Willows. What would she find at the other estate? Worry and dread filled her heart, but she kept the tempest straight on its course.