Hearing sounds of Kamarin showering, Henrald smiled as he checked the surveillance set-up he had installed while she was out. It had almost been too easy.
"All right, Taniell," the Colonel said, returning one of his listening devices to sleep-mode, in case the rebel leader suddenly became cautious, "what do you say to giving me something useful today...like, leading me to the Assembly?"
---
Allenford Biam looked up from the portascreen and pushed it back toward Josephine. His long thin face looked even paler than usual.
"Well?" Josephine asked, glancing at one of her chewed-off nails. "Are they authentic?"
Advisor Biam glanced around the conference room. It was a secure room. No one would know what he said here. "Are you sure you can’t tell me how you acquired these?"
The Duchess smiled. The documents’ worth had just been proven. "I have sworn not to reveal my sources," she said coyly. "I can't have them dry up on me now, can I?"
Biam blinked back a harsh reply. The woman had a bomb in her hands, and she treated it like a beach ball. "I can’t say if documents are genuine," the Advisor lied, "but they are dangerous." He tapped the viewscreen with his forefinger. "Does this have your only copy?"
Josephine straightened in her chair, offended by the question. "Allenford," the Duchess breathed, "I am not so stupid as to carry around the originals."
"The originals?" Biam’s lips thinned. "Where?"
"I have the source documents in hardcopy, in a nice safe place."
"Are they here at the Palace?"
Josephine momentarily froze, leading the Advisor to turn his eyes skyward. "They are safe," she repeated testily.
Biam shook his head. The documents Josephine had could ruin everything. If they proved to be genuine, and by all indications they were, it would not be a question of whether Seffan's reign would survive. House Possór's entire rule could be swept away.
"Do you have any idea what you have here?" Biam asked wearily, knowing the answer.
"Dangerous information," the Duchess declared, her jaw tilted upward. "Something Seffan would give—"
"Do you know just how dangerous?" the Advisor pressed.
"I want my freedom, Allenford," Josephine said, the haughtiness vanishing from her voice. "Freedom from Seffan’s domination over me and my family." She lowered her tone and she looked Biam in the eyes. "And I will do anything to get it."
Biam gasped at her frankness. She trusted him. "You don’t mean that," he said hastily, soothing his nerves as he tried to sooth her temper. "I have known you a long time, Josephine," he continued. "I know how much Seffan angers you. I know you are always treated as an outsider. But betraying Burin's brother will gain you nothing." Seeing that she was still unconvinced, Biam made himself plain. "Those documents will never gain Burin the throne."
Josephine's eyes widened, but she remained silent.
"If these financial figures reach Imperial eyes, this trial will see House Possór bankrupted and liquidated. The only piece of Legan left for Burin will be some backwater fief in the Afskagg Mountains, and even that will be mortgaged beyond redemption. If he is lucky. All of this is assuming, of course, that Derrick will not be around to claim it.”
“Derrick?”
“He is heir to House Possór, Josephine.”
“He is Seffan’s heir,” Josephine waived her hand. “Burin’s claim to the throne would come from his father, not from Seffan.”
Advisor Biam looked into Josephine’s eyes. “What good will any of your legal arguments be if the only crown at stake is one made of tin?”
"But Allenford," said Josephine with a toying smile. "Who said anything about actually giving this away? This is valuable information I have here. What will the Imperials pay for it? What will House Andior pay for it? Nothing, compared to what Seffan will."
You would probably get more from the Andiors, Biam thought, having no intention of encouraging her. "Well, if you give Seffan documents, along with their source—"
"I expect no gratitude from Seffan," Josephine said coldly.
True enough, Biam admitted. "And what do you expect to obtain through blackmail?"
"That answer is why I'm speaking with you, my dear Advisor Biam."
Biam nodded, seeing her plan at last. Josephine would do anything for her freedom, except divorce Burin and the Possór treasury. It was not the throne she wanted, but the wealth. She had been made to beg for increases in Burin’s yearly allowance one too many times.
"You would have to be very patient to collect the money," the Advisor cautioned.
"I can be patient," Josephine spat, “but I won’t let the matter be ignored.”
Biam lifted an eyebrow. "If Seffan survives this trial, you may still have to wait."
Josephine twisted her face. "How fast do you think the Imperial Justice Minister would file new charges if these came out?" The Duchess shifted comfortably in her chair. "If Seffan reneges on any deal, the Emperor will have his head. At that point, I will have nothing to lose."
Biam let the point pass. His own aims ran too close to hers to allow for petty antagonism. Reclining in his seat, his eyes focused on the opposite wall. Josephine’s father had asked Biam to look after her, a young country girl with much to learn about court intrigue. Clearly she had learned, or had come with her own hidden tricks. But she needed Biam to succeed.
The Advisor caught Josephine looking at him. Her smile vanished as she pretended to review something on her portascreen. He sighed. The closer he kept Josephine, the easier it would be to watch her. Quickly he developed a rough outline of what would be needed. All of it could be done. The question was risk.
Every step in a plan represented a place where something could go wrong. But whether enough money could be extorted from Seffan to make the risk to his life worthwhile was the real issue. The probabilities were against it, especially weighing in the threat of the trial. If Seffan were deposed, and Derrick implicated somehow or otherwise passed over, Burin would get it all anyway. The scheme would be pointless.
And Biam would not be paid.
The Advisor inhaled deeply before straightening in his chair.
Josephine sat watching him quietly, waiting for a reply. Licking her lips, she reached out and rested her hand on the portascreen, stroking the smooth surface with her fingers.
By so doing, she had unknowingly given him his answer.
"I have to think about this, Josephine," Biam said calmly.
"What do you mean?" Josephine pulled her hand back, dragging the viewscreen with it.
"I’m not sure I can help you."
"WHY NOT?"
Because you’re a greedy woman who can’t be trusted not to overplay her hand. "Because I stand to lose far more than I have to gain," Biam said. "Why should I take the risk?"
Josephine's face reddened as words flamed from her tongue. "You idiot. We would have Seffan right where—"
"We would be dead," Biam stated flatly.
"He wouldn't dare!"
"For treason? The executions would be made public."
"But the documents—"
"Substitutions could be fabricated, and the originals declared forgeries. That you and I tried to use them against the Crown would be the only relevant fact."
Josephine crossed her arms, slumping in her chair.
"We do not even know if the documents are real, Josephine," Biam resumed, "and Seffan will not pay anything without seeing them first."
"This is a great opportunity, Allenford," the Duchess said evenly.
The Advisor shook his head. "If you insist on proceeding with your plan, you should at least wait until the trial is over. Much could change by then. If you want my advice however," he stopped, waiting for her to meet his gaze, "destroy the documents."
"What?"
"And destroy any evidence of your connection to them. For your sake, and for Burin's."
Josephine smiled suddenly, her voice teasing him. "Do you have a secret gift for presc
ience, Allenford?"
Biam did not return the smile. "Perhaps, and then perhaps not. Tell me, did your source give you those documents here at Pablen?"
Josephine's smile faltered. She nodded affirmatively.
"That person was not your friend," the Advisor declared, his eyes resting on tapestry behind her depicting the victory of Corisia, which saw the destruction of the Wasserian Armada. A win for one side, a defeat for another. Which side would I have been on? "Documents like those should have been given to you as far away from the Palace as possible."
When the Duchess did not respond, Allenford drove the point home.
"Yours are not the only plans in motion, Josephine."
---
As old as he was, if required, Steuben could still march for miles with full gear in a tropical heat. Shadowing Kamarin on her shopping adventure nearly ended him however, even with his being able to follow her ground-car from the comfort of his ship high above.
“Who in their right mind would visit a retail merchant personally?” Steuben sighed, having never actually set foot in a store. “Can we please move on?"
Kamarin unknowingly granted Steuben's wish, leading him to another apartment complex across the city. Seeing her look about to check if anyone might be watching her, he allowed himself a tight smile as she entered through the main doorway. In her hand was a package.
After pressing a button on his console to activate the listening device he had concealed in the corner of her coat hem, Steuben lowered his ship to the ground to minimize the chance of any undue attention. Soon sounds from inside the building came over the ship's speakers.
"Where is she?" Kamarin asked.
"Sleeping," an older woman whispered with a hush. Footsteps sounded as they treaded from a hard floor to a carpeted area. "You know, Taniell," the woman said as the package was set on a table with a soft thud, "she was disappointed you missed her birthday."
Inside his ship, Steuben frowned.
"I couldn't leave," Kamarin explained. Outside of Steuben’s view, she removed her boots and wiggled her toes through her stockings. "It wasn't safe."
"That's what I figured," the woman breathed, putting a worried hand to her stomach. "I told her you had been called away, but would be back as soon as you could."
"Did you tell her where?"
The woman gave a short laugh. "No. But I think she's become suspicious of my cover stories. She seemed to take it well enough though. She's quite a special little girl."
"She had quite a special father," Kamarin replied, a wistful smile touching her face.
"And a special mother." The woman narrowed her brow as she shook her head. "I don't know how you do it, Taniell. The risks you take—"
"What I do, I do because I must," Kamarin said sharply. "There's no one else. There hasn't been since Nolan died."
"No one better, perhaps," the old woman corrected, "but there are others. Let Annika take command."
"You mean make her. She doesn’t want command. I’d have to blackmail her to do it."
"Too bad. Your little girl needs you, Taniell. You have done enough for the Movement. Serve Nolan's memory by caring for his daughter. Give her a chance to make a life for herself."
The Colonel wet his lips, the answer to why Depré’s mother would still have contact with Kamarin being clear. The child was the woman’s granddaughter. Kamarin may not have led him to the Assembly, but she had given him something useful. Someone very useful.
While it crossed his mind, Steuben did not dwell on his rogue initiate’s failure to mention that their target had a granddaughter. If it was a failure. One had to be careful with a lapsed sister of the Holy Church. They sometimes developed a conscience at inconvenient moments.
"I know," said Taniell, dropping into a nearby couch. "Once Lenalt takes over—"
"That's a whole other issue," the woman groaned, her eyes searching the sky. "Why him? That boy was in my class for years, and even after all the effort I put in teaching him for his poor widowed mother, he still grew up to be a reckless hothead."
"I thought you wanted me to retire," Taniell said with a smirk.
"If you put him in charge, you won't be retired for long," the woman said flatly.
Taniell's smile faded, fearing deep down that the woman might be right.
Steuben only half-listened as the two argued over Lenalt Depré. He could review that part of the conversation from the recording later. What occupied the Colonel's thoughts now was the rebel leader's reason for wanting to withdraw from the Movement, and for settling on a buffoon like Depré to be her successor.
Her daughter. Her sweet little daughter...
The Colonel had already begun thinking of ways he could utilize the child when the women's argument was interrupted.
"I heard voices," the little girl said as she walked in the room, rubbing her eyes.
"Well, look who is up," Taniell said brightly, lifting her arms in the air.
"Mommy!" the little girl cried, running to Taniell's embrace.
Taniell rocked the girl from side to side as she hugged her.
"You missed my birthday, Mommy," the little girl said, still in Kamarin's arms. "Why?"
The older woman cleared her throat and, smiling at Kamarin, walked into the kitchen.
Smiling back at the woman briefly, Taniell released her daughter as she looked down into her eyes. "I was somewhere I couldn't leave, and couldn't call you. I am sorry."
"You were in prison?" the girl asked, her eyes wide.
Taniell laughed. So did Steuben.
"No, I was working, though some people think of where they work as a prison." Taniell called out at the woman audibly fussing with some dishes in the next room. "Right Edie?"
"I didn't say anything," the old woman called back.
"I don't want you working anymore, Mommy," the girl said, her face mirroring the seriousness of her tone. "I get worried."
Taniell straightened with a gasp, reading the utter sincerity in her daughter’s face. Her eyes tearing, she hugged her child anew.
Steuben yawned at the lull in conversation, leaning sideways in his chair to scratch an itch on the back of his leg. Kamarin was his now. She would deny him nothing.
"Mommy will stop soon," Taniell managed, sniffing as she wiped away her tears.
The Colonel reached up with both hands to crack a few kinks out of his neck.
"Soon," Taniell repeated. "I promise you, Rachel."
Henrald Steuben froze at hearing the little girl's name, his face paling as his breathing stilled. Rachel.
"Rachel, dear," the other woman said, returning to the room. "Did you straighten your bed before you left it?"
The little girl turned. "No, I—"
"Go straighten your bed, honey," Taniell told her. "And when you get back, I will give you your birthday present."
"You brought me a present?" Rachel asked, her eyes wide.
"I certainly did. I shopped all day for it, to make it special."
Sudden nausea held back any sardonic remark Steuben might have made. Why, with all the names she could have picked? He could not see the little girl’s face in the apartment, but an image came to him as clear as any memory. Dark wavy hair, that one day would grow to frame her face like a great mane. Deep brown intelligent eyes that spoke of compassion, and not guile. Small lips that would thicken to become a gateway for a rich contralto. Rachel.
Henrald braced himself against the interior of his ship with a trembling hand. What is wrong with me? The Colonel reminded himself that he was a soldier, a veteran of many battles, and a bringer of death to countless enemies. The woman answered him in her contralto.
Nothing, O’Bringer of Death to Innocents. Henrald's breath caught in his throat. Brethren to those who murder with no second thoughts. "Like Seffan," Steuben finished.
"So how has she been otherwise?" Taniell asked. "Has she been any trouble?"
"Rachel? Trouble?" The woman laughed. "Sometimes she gets into things she sh
ouldn't, or innocently overhears something, and asks questions better left unasked."
Steuben shuddered as the words of the woman’s last phrase repeated in his mind.
"But Rachel is too sweet a girl to get into any real trouble," the woman continued. "I have to remind her sometimes though that she can't be too trusting of people, even of other children. She still has a hard time understanding the reasons for it."
"You're right to tell her though," Taniell said sadly, her gaze losing focus. "Rachel has no idea why anyone would hurt her, but such innocence is now a luxury here, even for children."
Feeling an uncontrollable need to leave, Henrald Steuben turned to the controls of his ship and brought the craft to life. After hurriedly shutting down the surveillance equipment, he sped away, losing himself in the ground traffic.
---
It was not an especially cold evening, but that was not why Josephine’s request puzzled the Palace servants. Heating her rooms was easy. It was the whimsical novelty which was striking. Still, Josephine had wanted a fire, and had gotten one. Now she watched the flames in the makeshift fireplace rise, fall, and whip about in a fluid motion. Like her thoughts.
Allenford is right, she told herself, reviewing their earlier conversation as she sat back in an overstuffed chair. A brisk breeze from outside the open doors of the nearby balcony fed a sudden swirl of flame. The fire shrunk back as quickly as it had flared.
Henely is not a friend. The arrogant royal toady had never been her friend.
The Duchess gazed down at the documents in her hand, the ones the First Advisor had given her only days before. She had already destroyed the memory core of the portable viewscreen she had shown Advisor Biam. These hardcopies were all that were left. Suddenly her hand shot forward, casting the documents into the flames.
I'll not be part of your personal power schemes, Henely, she declared, her distrust of him having won out over his many promises.
The documents consumed, Josephine relaxed, taking a drink from a small table next to her. She did not need those documents to bring down Seffan. Seffan would lose his crown anyway. In fact, she decided, she had no further use for any incriminating documents at all. The time had come to play it safe. She would stop accepting anything from Henely. She would wait.
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