by Greg Curtis
J'bel started pushing buttons and one by one copies of the document, complete with the Royal signature and seal, began falling into the collection box and she started gathering them up and dropping them into an empty cardboard box, ready for her trip.
But J'bel didn't look happy when she told him she was going on a trip. He told her immediately that it was too dangerous. But there was no choice. The Fae could not deliver these documents. It would be interfering in the politics of Grenland and that was against the terms of the Golden Concord. So she would have to do it. And that she knew meant another uncomfortable ride on the torture device called a wheeler.
But she didn't care. Finally, it looked like this nightmare was coming to an end!
Chapter Forty
Grenfields was a beautiful city, Dariya thought as she wheeled her cart around the streets of the well-to-do. Not as pretty as it could have been – none of her uniform changes had made it here and so the guards weren't dressed in their pink and blue, and the dirigibles trailed black flags with rampant tigers instead of her favoured green on white. Still it looked beautiful on a summer’s day. It helped of course that she was walking through the most affluent parts of the city – the so-called noble quarter.
There were mansions to the left of her and estates to the right. Not that there was really a lot of difference between them. They were all just huge houses with massive grounds of manicured grass. Marble columns and wrought iron fences were everywhere. And of course every fence had to have a gate – usually something overwhelmingly grand with a seal and a crest on it. Naturally every gate had to have guards standing proudly in front of it. And all of them looked at her suspiciously as she approached.
But really that didn't matter. She was wearing the uniform of one of the royal household. Her cart which she'd borrowed from a fruit and vegetable seller, was covered in the flag and so looked almost official. And all the envelopes she was handing out had the royal seal on them – the enchanted printing machine had been able to print that as well – and of course every one of them was absolutely genuine to her eyes. And it was proving ridiculously easy to hand them out.
“Royal invitation,” she announced in a bored voice as she approached a gate, and then handed an envelope to the guards standing watch. “Make sure the Master of the House gets it quickly and responds.”
And with that she was off to the next house, handing out her envelopes, while the guard took the envelope back to the house to present to his Mistress or Master.
By the Lady it was just so easy! That was the thing she didn't understand. The realm was in chaos. They were even now teetering on the verge of war. There were seers everywhere fighting tooth and nail to survive and protect their sanity. All of them could surely have remembered the tale of the woman walking the streets handing out documents that would destroy the King. She had expected trouble. She'd been prepared for it with pistols under her clothes already loaded and cocked. But not a single guard had spoken so much as a rude word to her. They had accepted that she was who she appeared to be, even though no one had ever delivered envelopes directly to their houses before. While there were posters up everywhere displaying her likeness to the world, it seemed that all they saw was the uniform and the flag covering her cart.
Admittedly the wig, hat and glasses disguised her appearance a little and the likeness wasn't that good to begin with. But really she thought, if the guards had been trained at all then the disguise shouldn't have been enough to fool them. Still, she wasn't going to complain.
And so she had continued down the street before turning into the next one, handing out her envelopes.
By the time the midday bells were tolling, half her supply was delivered and no one had stopped her, questioned her or tried to kill her. She really would have expected something. After all, any seer who had memories of this day would know when the envelopes had been delivered and more or less where. Perhaps they'd never known the exact locations and times since she was delivering them herself and planned on telling absolutely no one of what she'd done? That being the case maybe all the future would know was that on this day a lot of nobles had been given envelopes proving that the King's claim to the throne was illegitimate. Not who delivered them or when.
Things though changed a little while later. It was as she was crossing the intersection of Sunset and Wildwood Road – one she had delivered to an hour or so before – and she looked down the street. It was then that she noticed guards being spoken to by their masters while more were standing in the middle of the road, buried in conversation with their neighbours. She gathered that some of the envelopes had been opened and the contents read. Fortunately none of them were looking at her.
Dariya hurried on, not wanting to be spotted. Happily no one did, though she knew she had been lucky. Dariya decided then that she had rolled her dice as many times as she dared. This street would have to be her last. After this the she would move further into the centre of the city and hit the newspapers.
So she finished her run along the street, before turning and heading for the heart of the city, and when she found a useful spot she ditched the cart. By then she had only a few score envelopes left, and she could manage that with just her arms.
She felt good about what she'd achieved. This was not going to be a good day for the King – and tomorrow was going to be worse. While he would almost certainly claim that all the documents were fakes no matter how authentic they looked, it didn't matter. The charge had been made. The documents looked real. And people would ask questions. They would demand proof that he carried the old King's blood and not that of a Fae bard. He wouldn’t be able to get out of that.
Half way to her destination though Dariya spotted a familiar figure and forgot everything else as she hurriedly took shelter behind a lamp post.
It was her uncle! What was he doing here?! Her heart started racing. Out in the open when he was a wanted man? It seemed impossible.
But it was him. He was standing in the middle of the street, clearly looking for someone. Her, she realised. He might not know exactly where she was. He might not even know who had delivered all the documents. But he had enough information to begin a search.
Thankfully he didn't spot her and she let out a sigh of relief as he moved on quickly, still looking for her. It was already too late – though he clearly didn't know that – but he was obviously desperate. He would have to be to show his face in public.
How had no one recognised him? The question struck her as she watched him continue his journey down the street. And then she remembered Baen's amulets. The damned things that had not only protected him from peoples' gazes but hidden his store from her so she couldn't find it. Her uncle had to have one himself, or something similar. Something that made people not notice him – unless of course like her, they knew and hated him. And if she could get it off him, it would cause him all sorts of problems.
Without thinking she decided to follow him, her mission all but forgotten. But she'd done enough, she told herself. At least a couple of hundred members of the Court had received the documents. The information was out there. The King could not hide from the charges that would be levelled against him and neither could her uncle. Both of their claims for the throne would be shown to be illegitimate.
So she followed him at a safe distance, and strangely found herself heading for the newspapers anyway. The Magpie and the Herald. In fact she soon found herself standing barely fifty yards from the nearest of them and then watched her uncle walk up to the Magpie and stop outside it. Then he stood there and waited.
Presumably he was waiting for her – though he probably didn't even know who she was. As a seer one of the few certain memories he must have of the future was that the newspapers had received the documents. That meant they must have been printed. Clearly his thought was that if he could catch her here, before she went in, he could stop her plan.
But two could play at that game. And so, while he stood impatiently outside the Magpie looking for t
he delivery boy, she set off for the Herald which was just around the corner. Then after checking carefully to make sure that no one was watching, she walked in, handed over a couple of envelopes to the clerk at the front counter and told them they were for their managing editors. That done she left and headed back to her hiding spot close to the Magpie. After that she stood there and waited for her uncle to swap locations. Twenty minutes later he did just that, grumbling under his breath and striding off rapidly for the Herald, while she repeated her previous mission.
Dariya had to suppress a laugh when she walked back out into the fresh air. The newspapers had been given the information right under her uncle's nose, and he had no idea. It made her smile. But then she saw a crier walking down the street to make his announcements and an even better idea occurred to her. She rushed after him and caught him well before he made his appointment.
“Direct from the King. The final decree of King Raegan. King Richmond demands that you read it aloud and in full to the people for the rest of the day.” She handed him an envelope with the Royal seal on it.
She was fairly sure he would believe her, no matter that he would think the message the King had asked him to read strange. She was dressed in the uniform of the Royal household; the envelopes had the seal on them and the decrees were signed. Why wouldn't he?
“Yes Ma'am,” the man replied, and then continued marching down the street to do as he had been told.
While he did that she rushed off to the City Hall where she guessed the rest of the criers were based and duly passed out more documents to them as they returned from their duties. Just as before, no one even questioned her on the matter. They just accepted the envelopes and continued with their duties.
There was simply no suspicion! She didn't understand that. But she welcomed it. And she loved even more that a dozen more envelopes had been handed out. That was a dozen criers who would be announcing the news far and wide.
After she was done she raced back to spy on her uncle as he stood watch over the newspapers, never realising that the documents had already been delivered. She wanted to see his face when he heard the criers make their announcements. She wanted to see the horror appear in his eyes as he realised all his hopes and dreams had just been destroyed.
And then while he watched the newspapers, she watched him.
He'd aged, she thought. He was well in his seventies, but he'd always had an energy about him that defied his years. No longer. Now he looked tired and nervous. Thinner too. He hadn't bothered to maintain his appearance. She had always remembered him as a man obsessed with his appearance. His hair was always perfectly cut and held neatly in place. His clothes spotless and his boots polished. Clearly things had started slipping.
Maybe it was the wound he carried that had aged him. She couldn't see it, but she could see the way he moved. He was stiff and slow and he held one arm oddly. She'd shot him in the back outside the alehouse as he'd fled the scene of his latest murder, but hadn't been able to tell what damage she'd done. She'd only known that she'd hit him. Now it seemed, she'd done him some serious damage if he was still restricted in his movements. That made her feel good. She would have liked to have shot him again except that it would have got her noticed.
And then he did the one thing she would never have expected. He started talking to himself. Only a few words and he caught himself quickly, but in that moment she knew he had the same problem as Baen's Great Uncle Mortimer. Obviously whatever potions Estor had been giving him, were starting to wear off. Had she run out of potions? Or had she decided to stop helping him? Or, it suddenly occurred to her, were the two of them were no longer seeing eye to eye? With Estor’s mother exposed for her role in helping the High Priestess and probably on the run in the Hallows or even in gaol, perhaps Estor saw no reason to help the Duke anymore. Or maybe Estor herself was once more in gaol.
The wheels were falling off their various wagons and the conspirators were falling apart!
But things were only going to get better she thought as she spotted a crier making his way down the street, envelope in hand. Her only concern was where he was going to make his announcement from. Where was his box? Would he be close enough for her uncle to hear?
Unfortunately not, she discovered. His box was at least a hundred and fifty yards further down the street. Even concentrating on what he was saying, she could barely hear him as he shouted. But she could see the effect his words had on the people around him.
For ten full minutes he read out the decree in its entirety at the top of his lungs, and the people around him stood there, listening. And the longer he continued, the more there were listening. They stopped doing whatever they'd been doing. They wandered closer to him to hear better. And they stood there, speechless. All of them were hooked. What they were hearing was more than just scandalous. It was treasonous. An invitation to rebellion. Spoken out in the open. They'd never heard anything like it.
When he was done the crier left his box and headed back the way he had come, and then the people who had been listening came together in groups of twos and threes, talking in what seemed to be a very animated fashion. Dariya’s attention though was on the crier as he left. He looked pale and frightened as he knew that what he'd been asked to read out was sedition of some sort. No doubt he was worried that the King's soldiers would be coming for him, even though as far as he knew the King had been the one who had given the order for him to read out the decree.
The other criers would be feeling the same way she guessed. No doubt several them would have chosen to stop reading rather than risk being hung. Still, she hoped that others like the crier she had just listened to, had read the decree out in full.
Suddenly her uncle cried out, clutched his hands to his head and almost bent over double and she immediately knew why. His future had just changed. And without Estor's potions, he was suffering those changes just like the other seers. Worse. Because these changes directly impacted on his own future.
He started babbling again, talking to himself just as Mortimer so often had, and this time he didn't seem to be able to stop himself. He just talked faster and louder, and in doing so he exposed himself. His actions were too conspicuous to allow any amulet to do its work. He was now most certainly being noticed and all around him people started giving him space. No one wanted to be too near to a madman. Just in case it was contagious. Or that he proved to be dangerous. But truthfully he had been dangerous before he had lost his mind. This was him at his safest.
The Duke started walking off, still clutching his head and babbling to himself, and she watched him go. A part of her wanted to follow him, pull off his amulets, just to make sure the guards caught him. Let him swing. She hated him for what he'd done. But another part of her knew a different emotion. Pity.
This was not the man who had murdered her father and killed her mother. He was not the dark and terrible figure from her childhood. He was just an old, sickly madman. Hanging him would not bring the dead back to life. It would not bring her peace either. More importantly doing it might get her caught and hung too.
So instead she watched him disappear and then slowly forgot about him.
She still had a few more envelopes to hand out, and though it was clear to her that the word had got out, she still wanted to make sure as many people heard it as possible. But she'd had enough of walking around the city. And thanks to the wizard and his goldmine, she had enough coin.
“You there!” she called to one of the street urchins busy searching for an opportunity to earn some coin. When he arrived she handed him a few of the envelopes.
“Two coppers to take these to the magistrates. Two more when you return with a signature to say he's received them.” She gave him the first couple of coins and watched him run off as fast as his filth covered bare feet could carry him. Naturally, even before he'd left, other urchins were gathering around. There was coin on offer.
“The Captain of the Guards, and be quick.” She handed the next child an envelo
pe and a couple of coins.
And so it went on as one by one she handed out the last of her envelopes and watched the children run off to their destinations. Within ten minutes her arms were empty and she knew she'd done her job. The only question now was what would follow.
For the moment though she decided as she paid off the last of the urchins on their return, she needed a change of clothes and a meal at the inn where she'd stayed the night. In the morning she would get back on the wheeler and go back to Cedar Heights.
Was this what it was like to involve yourself in affairs of state? Dariya didn't know. But she suddenly decided as she saw arguments breaking out among the citizens of Greenfields, she didn't like it. She liked it even less when people started brawling in the street.
Chapter Forty One
Baen’s injuries were getting better. Even the hole in his back where the sword had run him right through had finally stopped bleeding. He'd been lucky he thought. Ninety nine times out of a hundred being run through by a sword would have killed a man. But somehow it had missed everything vital and his aunt had been on hand with her magic to save him. For all that it still hurt when he moved his arm around too much – there was some serious muscle damage there – he had some strength in the arm. Enough to get up out of his sick bed, put on some clothes and sit out in what passed for a garden in his aunt's world. It was still a jungle as far as he was concerned.
