The King's Man

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I stayed still as I was carried down the street and around a corner. A hansom cab stood at the bottom of the road, waiting for us. My eyes narrowed sharply. Hansoms weren’t unknown in Water Shallot, but they were rare. The kidnappers risked attracting attention by driving through the city. And yet, I could see their point. The cab was practically unnoticeable anywhere outside Water Shallot.

  “Put him in the back,” the second figure ordered. “Hurry.”

  I gritted my teeth as I was unceremoniously dumped in the rear of the cab. The door slammed closed. The driver cracked his whip, loudly. I reached out with my senses - carefully, very carefully - as the cab rattled into life and headed down the street. It was hard to make out anything beyond the presence of three trained magicians. The charms surrounding the cab were subtle - someone on the outside would probably be unable to sense them - but they were strong. I drew in my senses and waited. There was nothing else I could do.

  The cab twisted and turned. I tried to guess at the route, but it was impossible. That only worked in stories. There was a brief sense of rising and falling, suggesting we’d crossed a bridge, but ... which bridge? I couldn’t tell. Were we in North or South Shallot? I made a silent bet with myself that it was South Shallot. The guardsmen hadn’t forced us to stop. My lips tried to smile. It would have been ironic as anything if the guardsmen had inadvertently rescued me from my kidnappers.

  But I wanted to be kidnapped, I reminded myself, as the carriage lurched again. They’re taking me where I want to go.

  The ring pulsed against my bare skin, a reminder that Caroline was following me. I hoped she wouldn’t have any trouble crossing the river and catching up. It was possible the cab had a permit to pass through the guardposts without being stopped, although ... they’d have to stop, wouldn’t they, to show the permit? I wasn’t sure. Very few guardsmen would dare to question an aristo. There were criminals who’d pulled off all kinds of heists because no one had stopped to check their credentials. As long as they looked like aristos, they’d be taken for aristos.

  I smirked as the carriage came to a halt. There was a brief snatch of muffled chatter - I couldn’t make out the words - before the carriage lurched forward again and stopped. I hastily composed myself as I heard someone rattle at the door, throwing it open with a bang. Whoever had come for me wasn’t messing around. He cast a levitation charm and guided me out the carriage and through a wooden door as if I was a sack of potatoes. I studied the wards as he levitated me on. They were strong, alarmingly strong. It felt as if we were in a Great House.

  My captor hovered me into a room and lowered me onto a bed. The bedding felt almost sinfully comfortable. I could see a lantern drifting over my head as two more figures studied me. One wore a mask that obscured everything. The other was oddly familiar. I drew in my breath as I placed him. He’d accompanied Lord Dirac when he’d ordered Sir Griffons out of the city!

  “Well,” the man said. He spoke with a pure aristocratic accent. “You may as well sit up.”

  I held myself still, despite a flash of panic. It looked as if my glamour - my blood-based glamour - had failed. Or ... my mind raced, wondering if I’d let myself be carried right into a trap. If the glamour hadn’t held up ... I cursed, mentally. Caroline was on the way, but would she arrive in time? I had the awful feeling I’d sentenced myself to death.

  “The glamour is a good one,” the man said. “Your spells were quite effective. But - obviously - you’re not one of mine. I know who you are.”

  I pushed the effects of the spell aside and sat up. I was in a large chamber, sitting on a bed. I looked behind me and confirmed there was a third person standing in the shadows. He wore a mask too. The speaker smiled as I turned my attention back to him. He was as bland as his assassin, his face utterly unremarkable. I reached out gingerly and confirmed that he was protected with powerful wards. I’d be stopped in my tracks - or killed outright - if I tried to attack.

  “I’m glad you’ve decided to be reasonable,” the man said, as if he’d been reading my thoughts. “I so hate it when people are unreasonable.”

  I felt a surge of hatred. “Who are you?”

  “Anton Bolingbroke, at your service.” The man gave a slight bow. “You won’t have heard of me.”

  “No,” I said. That was odd. Most aristos assumed that everyone knew who they were and got cranky when they discovered it wasn’t true. I kicked myself, mentally. Caroline hadn’t wanted anyone to know who she was either. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought we should have a chat,” Anton said. “Your trick was quite clever. It did fool us, right up until you failed to resonate properly with the wardlines. I take it the real Gavin had his memory wiped?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “We couldn’t get anything out of him.”

  Anton nodded to his companions, who turned and left. “I’m being a poor host,” he said, once they were gone. “Would you like something to drink? Or eat?”

  I stared at him. “And what would you put in it?”

  “If I wanted to dose you with something,” Anton pointed out, “I wouldn’t need to trick you.”

  I scowled. “What are you doing?”

  “I think we have interests in common,” Anton said. “We should be working together.”

  “Really,” I said. It was unbelievable. I told myself, sharply, that I needed to keep him talking until Caroline arrived. “And what would those interests be?”

  Anton summoned a chair with a wave of his hand and sat down. “You are a Kingsman, sworn to uphold His Majesty,” he said. “I am a servant of Magus Court, sworn to protect the Court against its enemies. And we have a common enemy.”

  “We do?” I thought, fast. “The socialists?”

  “Correct.” Anton leaned forward. “You have to understand. The socialists represent the most serious challenge to Magus Court - and His Majesty - in centuries. They have to be stopped.”

  I studied him for a long moment. He seemed to believe what he was saying, although no one reached such heights without being able to lie convincingly. And yet, I found it hard to believe. Louise might have galvanised the socialist movement, but it didn’t represent a threat to Magus Court, let alone His Majesty. She didn’t have the power to turn her movement into a serious threat. There was no way the socialists could take control of the city, could they?

  “They’re not a threat,” I said, carefully. “It wasn’t them who detonated the infernal devices.”

  Anton shook his head. “You misunderstand. The system is designed to absorb talented newcomers such as yourself. It works because the people with the ability to damage the system are actually brought into it. But the socialists want to overthrow the entire system and replace it with something new. They’re a threat to the established order.”

  “They couldn’t challenge the Great Houses,” I said. “They’re not that strong.”

  “Not yet,” Anton said. “But that’s already changing. The movement is spreading. There are already socialist cells in cities right across the kingdom. They have to be stopped.”

  “And so, you framed them,” I said. “Why? Who are you?”

  “I told you,” Anton said. “I’m a servant of Magus Court.”

  I met his eyes as the pieces fell into place. “It’s more than just the socialists, isn’t it?”

  Anton looked back at me, his face expressionless. “What do you mean?”

  “The alliance between the two most powerful Great Houses leaves the rest of you in the cold,” I said. Malachi had said as much. “If the alliance is formalised, permanently, you’ll have a choice between accepting permanent subordination or fighting a hopeless war. Sir Griffons said” - I smiled - “that Magus Court was trying to find a way to either prevent the alliance or weaken it. You planned the state of emergency to give you an excuse to do just that.”

  “True enough.” Anton’s blank expression didn’t waver. “And it is in His Majesty’s interests too.”

  I grinn
ed. “How so?”

  “Right now, there is only one source for Objects of Power,” Anton said. “Whoever controls Caitlyn Aguirre will have the power to utterly dominate everyone else. Do you think the idea of taking control of the entire kingdom hasn’t crossed her father’s mind? Or her future father-in-law? The king’s armies will be powerless against Objects of Power. If we take control of her, we can render her harmless.”

  By killing her, I thought. I shuddered. I’d only known Caitlyn for a few months, but she’d never struck me as someone who deserved to die. They’re going to kill an eighteen-year-old girl just to secure their power.

  I looked down as a thought stuck me. “You did mean to kill Prince Jacob, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Anton didn’t look remotely sorry. “Coming here, the way he did ... it caused all sorts of problems. We wanted him gone, but ... we couldn’t be seen to bow to the king. If he’d been blown up it would have solved the problem rather nicely.”

  I kept my voice steady, somehow. “If you didn’t mind killing him,” I said. “And dealing with the diplomatic consequences ...”

  “And what would those be?” I heard a hint of irritation in Anton’s tone. “Prince Jacob is a headache for just about everyone. No one will waste their time firing off formal protests, let alone doing something effective, if he dies on our streets.”

  “You saw it as a chance to kill two birds with one stone,” I said. “What does Stregheria Aguirre have to do with all this?”

  Anton’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing. She’s dead. She died six years ago.”

  “But you use the same potion,” I said. “You’re what’s left of her conspiracy, aren’t you?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Anton said. “Let us just say that ... there are groups within the Great Houses, within Magus Court itself, that work together to tackle problems that affect us all. Like Prince Jacob. Like the socialists. Like an alliance that will permanently shatter the balance of power. Some of us lent our support to Stregheria Aguirre. We backed off, sharply, when it became clear she’d failed.”

  I shook my head. “Does Lord Dirac know about you?”

  “No.” Anton smiled, rather thinly. “It was decided that it would be better if he remained in ignorance of our existence.”

  “And he doesn’t know he’s hunting you,” I said.

  “No.” Anton stood, brushing down his trousers. “And once the protest march turns into a riot, he’ll stamp on the socialists for us.”

  He met my eyes. “Now, you have a choice,” he said. “You can assist us, thus satisfying your duty to His Majesty. Or we’ll hold you here until the whole affair is over.”

  I thought, fast. Anton was no fool. He knew he’d told me too much. He’d have to take precautions to make sure I didn’t betray them, if I chose to assist them. An oath, perhaps. Or a modified potion. I wasn’t sure how it’d react with the protections I already had. The Kingsmen had trained me well. And yet, if I refused, I suspected he’d kill me on the spot. We weren’t meant to be in the city. No one would ask too many questions if they dragged my body out of a canal, if they ever found it. There were plenty of ways to make sure no one ever found a corpse.

  “This is madness,” I said. “There’s no way His Majesty will agree ...”

  “You might be surprised,” Anton said. “The socialists represent a threat to everyone. His Majesty will be pleased if they are broken and discredited.”

  He turned and walked to the door, then stopped. “You can wait here,” he said. “As long as you behave, you’ll be treated well. If not ... well, we do have ways to keep you under control.”

  “You’re a monster.” It was hard to keep my voice from shaking. I’d never met anyone quite so callous. “How many people have you killed?”

  “Fewer than will die, if the socialists take control,” Anton said. The confidence in his voice was striking. “Or if we have another House War. The last one was quite bad enough.”

  He stepped through the door and closed it, firmly, behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The moment he was gone, I sprang off the bed and searched the room.

  It was strikingly bare for a chamber inside an aristocratic dwelling. The bed itself was secured to the floor. I couldn’t pull the legs or slats free to make an improvised weapon. The rest of the room was completely empty. There was no wardrobe, no chest of drawers, no mirror ... I wondered, absently, if we were in a safehouse. Anton and his little group - I had no idea if he’d been telling the truth or not - probably wouldn’t base themselves in a genuine Great House. They’d want somewhere that couldn’t be shut down so easily.

  My mind raced as I inspected the door. It was locked and warded shut. If Anton was telling the truth ... I could believe it, I decided. My instructors had warned me that secret groups tended to lose contact with reality and start thinking they - and only they - were all that stood between their people and utter destruction. I’d asked what kept the Kingsmen from having the same problem and gotten a lecture on cheek for my trouble. Reading between the lines, I’d had the feeling we did have the same problem. The only thing that kept it under control was strict rules on what we could and couldn’t do.

  I touched my ring, wondering if I dared call Caroline. Where was she? The ring was pulsing out a locator signal, but I was behind solid wards. The signal might be blocked. Or she might be trapped in Water Shallot. Or ... my imagination provided a dozen possibilities, each worse than the last. I put them out of my mind as I probed the wards, cursing under my breath as I realised how solid they were. They’d be easy to take apart from the outside, naturally, but anyone on the inside was thoroughly trapped.

  Or maybe not, I thought. The lock was more complex than I’d expected - the Great Houses preferred magic to physical locks - but it wasn’t that hard to pick. I poked and prodded at the keyhole until the lock snapped open. The door itself refused to open - the wards were firmly in place - but it was a start. This is going to be painful if it doesn’t work.

  Gritting my teeth, I pulled my pen from my pouch, pressed the tip against my arm and pushed hard enough to break the skin. Blood welled up, threatening to drip to the floor. I muttered a charm, giving the blood a life of its own. The liquid glided forward and pressed itself through the keyhole. My awareness went with it. There was no one on the far side. I wasn’t too surprised. The wards were tough, very tough. I hadn’t even known one could animate blood until I’d gone to Haddon Hall. Anton had good reason to be confident in his prison.

  And he probably needs his people elsewhere, I told myself. He’d said the protest march was going to turn into a riot. He probably had ringers in the crowd, ready to start hurling curses and hexes at the guardsmen. His base might not be too heavily guarded.

  I thrust my awareness through the blood, grimly aware the magic was starting to fade. I wasn’t sure what would happen if it collapsed while my awareness was focused on the far end of the blood, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way. I might be thrown back into my body or I might be trapped outside permanently. I’d seen a couple of ghosts. There was no way I wanted to end up like that. I rotated my awareness and cast a spell, unlocking the wards from the outside. The door crashed open. I breathed a sigh of relief and jumped through, muttering a spell to vaporise the blood. I didn’t want to leave that lying around.

  The wards quivered in alarm. I recoiled, shocked. I’d thought I’d tricked them. I braced myself, ready to fight ... but no one came to throw me back into the cell. It dawned on me, as I heard the sound of running footsteps above, that I hadn’t triggered the alarm. Someone – Caroline? - had attacked the house. The guards were running to defend their walls.

  I inched down the corridor, keeping a wary eye out for trouble. It looked as if I’d been concealed in the servant wing. The walls were as bare as the prison cell. They looked vaguely unfinished, as if whoever had designed and built the house couldn’t be bothered to install facilities for the servants. I glanced into a sideroom as I
passed and saw a row of bunks. They didn’t look large enough for grown adults. I’d been too big for them when I’d been twelve.

  Flickers of magic echoed through the house as I reached a flight of stairs. A pair of black-clad men lurked at the bottom, readying spells I didn’t recognise. I shaped a spell in my mind, then blasted them both in the back. They tumbled like bowling pins. I was tempted to steal their clothes, but I didn’t have time. Instead, I took samples of their blood and hurried up the stairs. The wards might not be smart enough to realise that someone was in two places at once. Anton might not have a live-in wardmaster on the payroll.

  Someone would have to agree to spend the rest of his life here, I thought, as I reached the top of the stairs. The flickers of magic were growing stronger. And who’d want to do that?

  I kept moving, reaching out carefully with my magic. Something was going on up ahead, something bad. I sensed dark magic - black magic - crackling on the air. The spells were banned, but the Great Houses had always been a law unto themselves. I hoped they’d thought to take precautions. Black magic wasn’t just dangerous because it was cast with bad intentions. It was dangerous because a warlock could become addicted and lose his sense of right and wrong. The Great Houses should know better. I hoped they’d planned to deal with a newborn warlock before he became dangerously insane.

  Magic flickered back at me. I recognised the signature. Caroline was there! I hurried forward, throwing caution to the winds as I ran into the entrance hall. Two sorcerers stood there, dark lightning crackling around their hands. I could feel the bad intentions as they hurled the spells towards Caroline, shielding herself as she pushed into the house. I summoned my magic and yanked their feet out from under them, sending them both sprawling to the floor. The black lightning surged up as they lost control, threatening to consume them. I ran past the sorcerers as they started to scream. There was nothing I could do. The forces they’d unleashed would kill them if they didn’t manage to retake control.