The Agent

by Brock E. Deskins

  “Figures. You take mine. It’s a good thing I’m no stranger to riding bareback,” Garran said and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Is everything a sexual innuendo with you?”

  “Of course not. Some things are a double entrendre.”

  After a few adjustments, Garran was able to fashion one of the horse’s leads into reins and guided them out of the woods and onto the trade road.

  Adam urged his mount to walk alongside Garran’s. “When I saw you come out of the trees, I thought this had all been some elaborate production of yours.”

  “Why would I go through all the trouble to fake kidnap you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand half the things you do.”

  “Find comfort in the fact that I still need you and will do everything I can to protect you.”

  “What happens when you no longer need me?”

  Garran studied the road ahead a moment before answering. “I have a wider range of options.”

  Adam was unsure whether he was joking or not. They rode in awkward silence until reaching the edge of the capital.

  “Were you able to arrange a private meeting with the King?” Adam asked as they passed through the gates.

  Garran ducked his head. “I was.”

  “When is it?”

  “About three hours ago.”

  Adam hung his head. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  “What now?”

  “Fortunately, there is an open court today. We’ll join the line of petitioners and make our proposal then.”

  “Should we change into something more formal first?”

  Garran wagged his head to the negative. “We’ll fit in better if we look like commoners.”

  “All right. Garran, I’m sorry I went with Karla and got captured. It was stupid of me.”

  “It’s not your fault. Karla is a trained field agent, and you’re…not.”

  “I still feel as if you are angry at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  Garran looked up at the sky and drew in a long, slow breath. “The first task of every field agent is an assassination. Do you know who we have to kill?”

  “I have no idea. Who?”

  “Our own conscience. Emotions and acts of conscience have killed more agents than Urquan counter intelligence operatives. People who aren’t able to dispatch those two crippling attributes are bound to get themselves and others killed. Fortunately, mine had been in their death throws years before I even attended the university. Our little girl talk about my feelings resurrected a few spirits that are best laid to rest.”

  “You caught onto that, huh?”

  “I’m an agent with moderate training in psychology. It wasn’t exactly subtle.”

  “Why did you share it with me if it is such a terrible sin?”

  Garran shrugged. “I don’t know. Have you ever distilled alcohol? Of course you haven’t. When you boil the mash, sometimes you get too much pressure and you have to release some steam before your still explodes.”

  “I thought that was what all of your fornicating and self-abuse was for.”

  “I wasn’t talking about my steam.”

  “Oh.” Adam rode in silence, pondering everything Garran had just said. “That’s why you got your friend expelled, isn’t it?”

  “Aniston is a good kid. Hell, he cared about me. If that’s not proof that he was too soft for the job, I don’t know what is.”

  “But wasn’t getting him expelled for his own good an act of conscience?”

  “Anytime I can complete two tasks with one act, I’m going to take it. It’s not kindness. It’s efficiency.”

  Adam looked straight ahead and beamed. “You care about people.”

  “Shut up.”

  ***

  Adam and Garran left their horses with a palace groomsman and joined the long queue of supplicants waiting to see the King and Queen. Sometimes the line moved quickly, at others, it crawled at a glacial pace. Garran was growing concerned that they might not reach the monarchs before they closed court for the day when they finally reached the antechamber.

  Two men, one looking pleased and the other obviously dissatisfied with the judgment, departed. An attendant gestured for Garran and Adam to enter the court chamber. They stood near the antechamber door awaiting their turn as a well-dressed man addressed the two monarchs sitting on matching thrones atop a raised dais. An old woman, Adam thought perhaps one of the regents’ mothers, sat in a simple chair next to the Queen, knitting.

  King Mathias looked bored, slouching on his throne, his head resting on his fist. Queen Ingrid, a plump, matronly woman in her fifties, sat attentively, her eyes sharp and giving the man her full attention.

  Garran nudged Adam with his elbow and whispered close to his ear. “That thing you do to get us past the patrols and checkpoints, can you use it to gain us an advantage with the Queen?”

  Adam clenched his jaw. “No, I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both!” he hissed. “It is against the law and deeply immoral. It is the very reason why god-touched cannot hold any position of authority or power.”

  “Ingrid is already going to be displeased with our standing her up this morning.”

  “That wasn’t our fault!”

  “She doesn’t give a damn about excuses. If we cannot sway her support, then this will have all been for nothing. The Hillmen are not going to be enough, and without her part in my plan, they are all likely going to die once Gordon and The Guild decide to get serious about dealing with them. Do you want their deaths on your conscience? Don’t the lives of two thousand men, and your sister, outweigh a paranoid law or some silly-assed oath you made to the Church?”

  “If they find out I used magic, they will execute us both! Then where will we be?”

  “We can test it.”

  “How?”

  “Use it on the guy talking to them. Make it appear to anyone who might be able to detect such things that he is the one doing it.”

  “Then an innocent man gets executed!”

  “Ingrid is not a bloodthirsty ruler, and I’m sure they can verify the man’s innocence soon enough. By that time, we’ll have our army and be gone.”

  Adam sighed and looked at the marble beneath his feet. “I don’t like it.”

  “That’s your conscience giving you advice that cripples your ability to complete the mission. Thousands of lives depend upon us doing our duty. Are you man enough to do your duty, to sacrifice your conscience for the sake of your people?” Garran poked his chin toward the merchant. “Besides, look at him. He’s obviously ears-deep up The Guild’s ass. That makes him the enemy.”

  Adam nodded resignedly. “All right, but I do not like it.”

  “Do you think I like everything I have to do?”

  “Actually, yes, yes I do.”

  “Yeah, it is pretty damned fun most of time. Now make with the magic, fancy boy.”

  Adam scowled and began weaving the invisible threads of magic.

  “…and so if Your Highness would grant me exclusive access to the capital’s blacksmiths, I could provide some steep discounts on my iron ore and ingots,” the merchant said. “It would enrich not just me, but all of the iron workers as well since it would reduce the cost of the raw materials upon which they depend. They could lower their prices, sell more finished products, and thereby increase your tax revenue.”

  The old woman sitting next to the Queen touched Ingrid on the arm without looking up from her knitting. Ingrid scowled and motioned to two soldiers standing at opposite sides of the grand chamber. They advanced, halberds held at the ready.

  The merchant’s head whipped left and right. “What—?”

  Halberd hafts battered the man to floor and beat a rapid staccato upon his body.

  “Oh my God!” Adam cried in a hoarse whisper. “What have I done?”

  “What the hell happened?” G
arran asked.

  Adam looked up at the dais. “The old woman must be a sensitive!”

  “What the hell is a sensitive?”

  “A person who isn’t god-touched but can tell if anyone is using magic.”

  “All right, so now we know we cannot use you to gain an edge. It is still a success.”

  Adam glared at Garran. “A success? They are going to beat that man to death right in front of us because of me! I hardly call it a success!”

  “Keep your damn voice down, or we’re going to join him!” Garran hissed. “He was Guild. He probably ran his mines as close to a slave operation as he legally could. He is likely a cheat and swindler responsible for causing financial hardship for dozens if not hundreds of families.”

  “You don’t know that. He might use his wealth to fund an orphanage or run a soup kitchen for the homeless.”

  “Out of those two plausible scenarios, which one eases your conscience knowing that you are responsible for his brutal beating, imprisonment, and pending execution?”

  Adam watched the guards drag the unconscious man away. “Did you see how long and slender his fingers were? He is probably a pedophile too.”

  Garran nodded animatedly. “Oh, I’m almost certain of it.”

  “Supplicants, stand forth,” Queen Ingrid commanded.

  Garran and Adam approached the dais, touched a knee to the floor, and stood.

  Ingrid held a pair of spectacles attached to a slender rod to her eyes. “Mr. Holt, are we mistaken or were we not supposed to have a private meeting this morning?”

  Adam said, “That is my fault, Your Grace. I foolishly allowed myself to be kidnapped. It was by the grace of God that Agent Holt was able to liberate me in a timely manner.”

  “Not quite timely enough or we would not be engaging in such a public forum,” Ingrid responded. “When one has the whole of a nation intent upon capturing them, one should take into account such things when scheduling appointments. Particularly when they come with their hand extended like beggars.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. I do apologize.”

  “I grow weary of this day. What is your request?”

  “I understand you supported my father when he came to you in hopes of breaking the grip The Guild has on our people. I come asking that you might do the same for me so that the seed you and my father planted can grow to maturity.”

  “In what form of support are you asking?”

  “At this moment, two thousand Hillmen are reaping chaos across Anatolia, but they cannot take on the kingdom’s full military might. While the Hillmen distract a large portion of Anatolia’s army, I could lead another large force, take the capital, and put my sister on the throne where she belongs.”

  Ingrid gave Adam a sympathetic smile. “While morally I still support what your father tried to create, I cannot provide material assets to this cause. Your father was a good man, and he gave his life for what he believed in. So did your lovely mother and darling brother, but I cannot in good conscience ask my kingdom and her people do the same. I offer you my hospitality and promise of safety until you are ready to continue on your journey, but that is all I can give you.” Ingrid stood, nudged her husband to do the same, and declared, “This court is now closed.”

  A man on the palace staff escorted Garran and the Prince from the hall and to a suite of rooms. Two copper tubs filled with steaming hot water occupied the marble bathing chamber just off the opulent bedroom. Two sets of clean clothes were laid out on the bed.

  “I will have dinner delivered to your rooms in an hour,” the servant said and departed.

  Adam sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands. “What do we do now?”

  Garran was already stripping off his clothes and flinging them onto the floor. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to take a bath. Then I’m going to go get us our army.”

  Adam looked through the open door as Garran slipped gingerly into the tub. “She said she was not going to help us. And since when are you in a hurry to take a bath?”

  “I missed one appointment with the Queen already. It would be beyond stupid for me to miss another.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really need to learn how to read people. Of course she said she wouldn’t help us. She had to. The Guild pays her servants quite well to relay everything that happens in the palace, and she knows that.”

  “Or she said it because that’s what she meant.”

  “We get to our room and find clean clothes and hot bathes already waiting. That can only mean one thing.”

  “That we’re filthy and we stink?”

  “That she wants a private meeting with me tonight…a very private meeting. The woman was practically bursting with sexual tension.”

  “Garran, she is the Queen of Opatia and a married woman! Even if she does want to speak in private, it does not mean she wants to have sex with you! Not everyone is driven by uncontrolled sexual desire like you are!”

  “Did you not see Mathias? The man is as sexually exciting as a pile of horse droppings. Women have needs, and women who rule a kingdom have greater needs than anyone. Trust me. She’s going to give us our army. She just needs the right kind of encouragement.”

  “Your kind of encouragement is going to start an international incident and get us executed.”

  “Maybe, but it’s a good way to go.”

  Garran scrubbed until his skin was pink. It was the first time Adam had ever seen Garran truly clean and remotely presentable. It was possibly the first time Garran had either.

  “Garran, please don’t make this any worse than it is.”

  Garran buttoned up the silk shirt and straightened his lapels. “When you are at the end of your rope, you can’t possibly make it worse. Up is the only way to go.”

  “You can still wrap the end around your neck!”

  Garran strode from the room, leaving Adam with his feeling of impending doom to keep him company. He navigated the labyrinthine halls until he found the same servant who had escorted him and Adam to their room standing next to a door.

  “There you are. I suspected I would find you somewhere,” Garran said as he approached.

  “Are you lost, sir? Do you need directions back to your chambers?”

  Garran opened the door and looked in on the empty bedchamber. “No, this will do perfectly. You can inform the Queen that I await her.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  Garran winked at the man. “Trust me; she’s expecting me.”

  “For your sake, I certainly hope so, sir.”

  Garran hurried the man along with a brush of his hand and entered the room. He lay on the bed in what he hoped was a seductive pose but then thought it might lack a certain subtlety to which Ingrid was accustomed.

  He chose to stand next to the fireplace with one hand resting on the mantle, the other mimicking holding a glass of wine. God, how he could go for some wine right now. He broke his pose, placed a chair next to the fireplace, and stood with one foot on the seat while striking the previous posture.

  “Good evening, Your Majesty,” Garran said to the empty room. “I hope this evening finds you well.” Too formal. “Hello, Ingrid. Guess what has two thumbs and can pump like a blacksmith’s bellows?” Garran pointed his thumbs at his chest. “This guy!” No, too familiar.

  The door opened, and the Queen strode in.

  “Your Maj—”

  Startled, Garran’s foot slipped through the slats in the chair back. He tried to extract his foot only to trip and fall onto his back. He raised the chair over his head and furiously kicked at it with his free foot.

  “Gah, sonofabitch!” Garran splintered one of the slats, freed his foot, and clambered onto his feet. He brushed the front of his shirt with his hands. “Your Grace, I am so glad you could join me this evening.”

  Ingrid looked down her nose, her lips pursed. “You are a funny little man, Agent Holt.”

  “Thank you, Your Gr
ace.”

  “We are not amused. What is it you wanted of me?”

  “I was hoping we could revisit Prince Adam’s proposal of support.”

  “It is a fool who throws good money after bad. I will not add bodies to the mound as well. Give me one good reason why I should change my mind.”

  “One?” Garran grinned, tugged at the laces of his trousers, and dropped them to the floor. “I’ll give you eight.”

  Ingrid raised her spectacles to her face, leaned forward, and scowled. “I count five at best.”

  Garran shifted nervously. “I hadn’t expected you to have such a keen mind for math.”

  “It is more a matter of spatial reckoning than mathematics, and unless you can miraculously conjure another three…reasons, we are finished here.”

  Garran’s grin slipped into a frown and his shoulders slumped in resignation. His eyes brightened, his smile returned, and he touched the tip of his tongue to his lower eyelid. Ingrid lowered here spectacles, cocked her head, and arched her eyebrows.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Garran?” Adam called through the open door of one of the palace’s many bedrooms.

  He closed the door and moved on to the next. He had slept in fits all night, and when morning came and Garran had not returned, he went in search of him. He had looked in at least a dozen rooms without luck, and his fear that Garran had managed to get himself arrested or even killed, mounted.

  Adam opened another door, poked his head through the opening, and called out. “Garran?”

  A form on the bed stirred and moaned, his face buried in a pillow, a sheet covering him to his waist.

  Adam stepped into the room and stopped halfway between the door and the bed. The chamber reeked of alcohol, opium smoke, and sex.

  “Garran?”

  Garran rolled over, blinking away the sleep and morning light. “Muh?”

  “Thank God! What have you been doing all night?”

  Garran sat up and rubbed his face and head. “Getting you your army like I said I would.”

  “You did it? How?”

  “Just like I said I would. Why do you ask stupid questions and then never pay attention to the answer? It is very annoying.”

  “You…with the Queen?”

  “No, me with the King and his favorite hunting hounds.”