“Can you come outside?” she asked. “There’s something you need to see.”
Grateful for the distraction, Beau started to follow her out then doubled back to slip the pair of small canvases into his pocket instead.
As torn up as the paintings made him feel, he wasn’t ready to let them go yet.
Cressi led Beau outside through the large kitchen garden, where off in the back corner Keb and Boz were following Anka around like calves after their mother.
“That’s what you wanted to show me?” Beau asked.
“It’s not, although it is a satisfying sight,” Cressi laughed. “This way.”
They continued on through the garden and around to the front of the barracks.
At first, Beau thought there was a stand of trees or pillars planted in the middle of the drive, but then he realized there was a constant, orderly movement. As he got closer his hands began to shake, and his blood began to quiver. It was Nate leading an entire column of guards through a drill in the middle of the drive.
Cressi had done exactly as she’d promised—she’d delivered Beau his own private army.
Now it was up to him to lead them all safely to freedom.
Chapter Thirty-Six
A Battle of Wills
By afternoon of the next day, the boy who’d never wanted to lead anyone found himself leading a company of some eighty souls onto the Manor lands. Cloaked by a charm, Beau guided the brigade—which included forty of Gerta’s fellows, thirty-three guards from the Lower Middlelands, twenty horses, and thirteen wagons—through the peddler’s gate, up the hill, and on to the outer pasturelands.
How strange it was to be returning to the Manor along the same route he had taken out. Except of course, nothing was the same. A pall of silence hung over the estate. The gatehouse and fields stood empty, not a single guard or worker in sight. Even the Manor looked different to Beau now. Smaller, diminished. The seven turrets that had stood glowering over the land for generations had somehow been blunted, robbing them of their power to intimidate.
Beau brought the company to a halt and watched as they all stepped out from behind the veils they’d been traveling under. All these people assembled in a common cause was an inspiration, their bravery bolstering his own. They had a plan—a good one—designed by Nate to protect the children of Mastery House from Doone, and they were ready to employ it. But confronting Himself, convincing him to send Torin back and liberate the people of the Land was Beau’s burden to bear alone.
“Listen, I’ve been saying the whole time, I don’t like it,” Nate said as he, Cressi, and Gerta stepped up to Beau’s side. “I say we send a few guards with you and Cressi.”
“No.” Beau was adamant. “We stick to our plans. The guards will wait behind the veil in the hedgerow until you, Gerta, and the others have gotten the children out of Mastery House. We need all the guards there to load them into the wagons and get them clear of here as fast as they can.”
“I wish I’d known that Cressi and I had cut our path in the hedgerow right through one of those veils,” Nate said. “The things I could have gotten away with!”
Gerta raised an eyebrow. “And that’s exactly why we made sure you didn’t know.”
She’d been impressed with the strategy Nate devised and had asked him to join her ranks once this was all over. But Nate refused, saying, “I’m not looking to follow anyone anymore.”
“Once you’ve gotten all the children out and secreted away,” Beau continued, “send a scout to get word to me so I know everyone is safe.”
“Wish you’d do the same,” Nate said. “I can’t be worrying about you, you know.”
Try as he might to come off calm, confident, even cocky, Nate couldn’t mask his emotions. Neither could Beau. Before Nate could try to dodge the attempt, Beau gathered him in a hug.
“Be smart,” Beau said.
“Be bold,” Nate countered.
“And crafty,” Cressi added, throwing her arms around them both.
A shiver ran through Beau, but it was borne of anticipation, not foreboding.
“Then we’re ready,” Beau said, breaking the embrace. “Aren’t we?”
“I’ve been ready my whole life,” Nate said.
At Beau’s command, the guards moved off to take up their position while Nate, Gerta, and her scouts took off toward Mastery House.
Beau and Cressi entered the Manor through the kitchen yard and continued down into the servants’ hallway. They’d prepared a story in case they ran into anyone, but the halls were as empty as the yards had been.
Cressi sniffed the air as they passed all the empty workrooms. “It’s the fever. Servants must’ve been taking the blankets for themselves.”
Beau shivered at the thought. “Imagine being so desperate for warmth to be driven to steal from the dead.”
“I’ve plenty of the fever brew. We’ll tend to all of them soon enough.” Cressi patted the bag slung over her shoulders.
They continued on in silence until they reached the servants’ entrance to Barger’s office.
“This is it,” Beau said. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Cressi nodded. “And so are you. Now go.”
While Cressi crept up the stairs to Barger’s office, Beau raced up to the first floor. He’d always hated this part of the Manor. The entire hall was done up in gold fittings and marble details, and heavily armed guards were usually posted outside every door, footmen stationed at every corner. But now there was no one. The Manor was empty, a thunderous silence echoing through the halls.
It was only when Beau approached the mahogany door inlaid with golden scrollwork that he heard the first signs of life—that all-too-familiar rhythmic clicking of heels striking marble.
With one deep breath for courage, Beau eased the door open.
He thought he knew what to expect as he stepped inside, but the library was in complete disarray. Books lay strewn about the floor, chairs upholstered in the finest silks and brocades had been thrown aside, many twisted and broken. Paintings and ceremonial weapons, the pride of Himself’s collections, sat crooked on the walls, many hanging as if by a thread. Yet the strangest thing of all was the large fire roaring in the hearth, filling the air with a stifling heat as if fed by the very chaos in the room. This was not the frigid chamber of command and control Beau had always known as his father’s library. Nor was the man at the far end of the room, his folded hands pressing down upon his bowed head, anyone that resembled Himself.
“Put the tray down, touch nothing, and leave,” Himself growled. He was pale and drawn. Thin. Almost fragile. Had he always looked that tired? Old?
“You needn’t worry,” Beau said, his voice clear and strong. “I don’t have the fever.”
“Everyone has the fever,” Himself muttered. “Everyone.”
Beau stepped farther into the room.
He’d always felt so small in here, dwarfed by the furnishings, tapestries, his father’s anger. Yet now he planted himself in the center of the room, as sturdy as a hundred-year-old oak.
“Father, it’s me,” he said. “Beau.”
Himself raised his head, squinting at Beau as if trying to remember him from a life long forgotten.
“Have you grown? Why do you look different?” Himself spoke as if it were a betrayal, a mockery of his power. “Why are you not in your apartments? Barger assured me you were safely locked inside, fever-free.”
“What else has Barger told you?” Beau challenged.
“Get back to your apartments and do not leave until you are instructed,” Himself ordered.
“I haven’t been there for days.” Beau spoke boldly, confidently, even as his heart was racing inside. “I’ve come to tell you some things and demand others. You need to know—”
“You have nothing to tell me. Get out of my sight!” Himself picked up a vase and threw it at Beau.
But Beau easily dodged the porcelain projectile, letting it shatter at his feet. “I can tell you I k
now the cause of the fever and how to cure it.”
“What are you talking about?” Himself snarled. “There is no cure for a charmer’s curse.”
“It’s not a curse,” Beau said. “The blankets that you received as a gift from over the seas, the very ones you distributed to guards throughout the Land, are what’s making people sick. Your so-called foreign admirer was Doone. But there is a cure. I’ve seen it work. It healed the entire battalion of Lower Middlelands guards.”
“Lower Middlelands guards?” Himself’s mouth puckered as if he’d bitten into bitter fruit. “That battalion couldn’t fight their way out of a pig barn. They’re the weakest of the weak, a waste of food. Why do you think they’re posted there?”
“They are neither weak nor useless. They are strong and assembled here at the Manor.”
“Send them back!” Himself gestured wildly. “Or put them to work in the fields. I have no need of them. Torin will be arriving by nightfall. His army will see that order is restored. Properly.”
Beau fixed his stance. This was his moment.
“Call him off,” he said. “Break your pact or pay him off, but you cannot set him loose on the Land again. He’ll kill countless innocents, just as he did before.”
“As he should! Clear the scourge of the disloyal, the weak, the useless!”
Once Himself’s rage would have sent Beau scurrying for the solace of his apartments or the relief of Fledge’s comforting words. Now his words rang as empty as the halls of the Manor.
“None of this is necessary,” Beau calmly countered. “We’ve found the cause of the fever, and we’ve a charmer who has a cure.”
“A charmer?” Himself looked at Beau almost as if he were seeing him with new eyes. “Where? Bring them to me. Now!”
“Not until you vow to keep her and all those like her safe, to call off—”
“Who do you think you are, boy?” Himself seethed.
“I’m the person with the answers and solutions,” Beau said. “And I haven’t finished with my demands. Call off Torin’s approach, set the children of Mastery House free, and put an end to that terrible place. Stop the exorbitant taxes and all the other cruelties the Manor imposes on the people of the Land.”
Himself started to reply, then stopped. Beau couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh or explode as he rose to his full height. “Well, look at you, finally playing the role of the worthy heir. Except you still understand nothing of how the Land works. ‘Free the people,’ you say? How can you have any of my blood flowing through your feeble veins? How can you—”
“I’ve got her, the charmer!” Barger shouted as he rushed into the library, Cressi in tow. “She’s confessed everything to me. She’s . . . What are you doing here, boy? You’re supposed to be in your apartments. She said she’d locked you back in . . .”
“In my apartments,” Beau repeated. “That’s what we planned for her to say. But as you well know, it’s been days since I was last there. That’s why you sent Cressi to find me.”
“That’s absurd.” Barger tightened his grip on Cressi. “He’s deluded. He’s lying.”
Barger looked to Himself like a puppy waiting to be rewarded, but Beau’s father turned away in disgust.
“Release her.” Himself waved Barger off.
“Sir—” Barger began.
“I’d cut you down right now if you weren’t one of the last left standing. You have one chance to make yourself useful. Go prepare for Torin’s arrival or I’ll feed you to his army myself!” Himself’s order rang through the room like a bell.
Barger tried to fight it, but Himself shriveled him with a look. “Go.”
Barger shoved Cressi toward Beau, then turned to stalk out, a warning he’d have his revenge.
But Beau knew better. Barger’s days were over.
“Young, aren’t you?” Himself smoothed out the wrinkles on his coat as he looked Cressi over. “I knew a charmer once. Thought we’d change the Land together.”
“We can do that now.” Cressi lifted her chin, matching his stance.
Himself laughed, his power renewed. “You’re as stupid as he is, aren’t you? I’d sooner use you to extend my own life and double the length of my reign than let this boy rule with his ridiculous notions of peace and equality. So noble, so naive.”
“Much as you were once,” Cressi replied. “Until you let others poison you with their lies. But you still have that in you. Why else would you have continued to protect Fledge, Anka, and the others all these years?”
“You know nothing!” Himself raged. In one smooth move he reached up and pulled a ceremonial sword from the wall. He lunged at Cressi, missing her by a hair’s length. She jumped back, forcing him to reset his balance before trying again. In that split moment, Beau grabbed up a broken chair and hurled it toward his father. The chair caught Himself at the shoulder, sending him faltering backward.
“Run!” Beau shouted.
He turned and raced for the exit, assuming Cressi was behind him, but when he reached the door, he saw her dashing in the other direction—straight for Himself.
“What are you doing?!” Beau tried to catch her, but she pulled away just as Himself got back to his feet.
“Too stupid to even try to survive.” Himself fixed his grip on the sword.
Beau ran to put himself between his father and Cressi, but Himself easily threw him off, sending Beau flying over a broken settee.
While Beau scrambled to find his feet, Himself closed in on Cressi, his sword cutting the air between them. Beau saw Cressi dodge the blow, then throw something into the fire. With a snap and pop of shattering glass, thick, yellow smoke began pouring out of the hearth, sending both Beau and Himself reeling back, coughing and gagging.
Lungs too heavy to breathe, his head woozy and suddenly filled with strange memories of a time long ago, Beau buried his face in his elbow. He tried to push on but couldn’t tell reality from the pictures playing before his eyes. He saw a room, much like this one, only warmer, softer. Filled with light and laughter. A place for a family perched on the edge of a new life. Faces, like the ones in the paintings, taunted him with all he never had.
He could feel himself slipping away, drawn into the dream, unable to stop it when a hand grabbed him.
It was her; he knew it without seeing.
Their hands intertwined, Cressi and Beau charged out of the study and went racing for the door toward freedom. They’d just cleared the marble verandah, clean air filling Beau’s lungs, when a loud explosion rocked the ground underneath their feet.
Beau caught himself midstumble and moved to race on when he saw it—a cloud of smoke, debris, and destruction raining down over the hedgerow.
His feet unable to move, his mind unwilling to believe, Beau cleared his eyes, hoping it was another vision, an illusion. But then the smell of smoke and the sounds of screams filled the air. This was no dream, it was nightmare.
Mastery House had been blown to pieces.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
All Fall Down
Beau raced toward the hedgerow, the faces of the children—Bea, Rory, and all the others—the only thing he could see. He’d nearly made it through the laundry yard when another blast exploded from the south side. Undaunted, he tried to keep going through the storm of dirt and debris, but Cressi pulled him to the ground, shouting to cover his head. Ears numbed by the blast, he waited just long enough for the shower of destruction to stop before racing on.
“This way!” Cressi called as she headed for the veiled passageway in the hedgerow.
Beau barreled through and made to head straight into the rubble, but Cressi pulled him up short, stopping to assess the damage. Smoke was pouring out the back side of the building while the east end was nothing more than a pile of rubble. A line of Gerta’s scouts were streaming out the front door of Mastery House carrying children of all ages.
“How many more are inside?” Beau called to two scouts racing past with children in tow.
&n
bsp; “We don’t know!” one answered. “There might still be a few upstairs, maybe none!”
“Just get those you can to the guards and the wagons!” Cressi ordered. “We’ll do another sweep through to make sure.”
Beau darted for the door, but Cressi pushed past. “Follow me. I know the way.”
Cressi slowed them to a walk as they made their way down the dark and ash-filled hallway toward the stairs. But any hopes of reaching the second floor were quickly dashed. The stairwell was leaning precariously and looked as if it would collapse any moment.
“There’s another way,” Cressi said. “Through Matron’s rooms.”
Carefully picking her way past debris and around gaping holes in the floor, Cressi led Beau around to another dark and narrow corridor. Beau fought to remain focused on putting one foot in front of the other—for if he let any other thoughts in, he’d ignite in an explosion of his own.
When they reached the end of the hall, Cressi threw open the door. But rather than exposing Matron’s fine set of rooms, they came face-to-face with a gaping hole blown into the side of the building. Velvet curtains flapped in the breeze, overhanging a window that was no longer there, while bricks and mortar lay scattered, covering the fine furnishings.
The outside wall had been decimated, but the inside wall was still intact, along with the stairwell.
“Some of them won’t trust anyone but me or Nate, not even Gerta and her scouts,” Cressi said as she headed for the stairs. “You check outside. If you find anyone shout for me.”
Beau waited until he heard her footsteps arrive safely overhead before climbing over the rubble to the outside. He moved carefully through the ruins, searching, hoping to find someone still alive. Bea’s sweet face, Rory’s sharp elbow teased at his memory, but he found no one, living nor dead. Choosing to take it as a good sign, he headed for the side yard, but just as he was about to round the corner of the building the sound of shuffling feet and the clatter of metal on metal hit his ears.
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