Hobgoblin Night: Mask and Dagger 2

by Teresa Edgerton

  ***

  Lord Skelbrooke and Sera sat silently, side by side, on the mattress on the floor, while the light coming in through the barred window grew fainter, and evening shadows gathered in the locked room. After about an hour, Moses Tynsdale came in with a laden tray and a lighted candle.

  He grinned at Sera. "Your bridegroom is naturally solicitous."

  "Mr. Tynsdale, it may amuse you to contemplate the fate which no doubt awaits me. But perhaps you do not know that they intend to murder Lord Skelbrooke. Abduction and deceit are obviously not beyond you, but I should never have taken you for a hired killer."

  Tynsdale stood in the doorway for several minutes, his dark gaze fastened doubtfully on Skelbrooke's face. "You are correct. I am a spy, not a hired killer. In order to maintain the role I have assumed—how convenient a cover for my true activities his lordship can tell you!—I have worked much mischief, yet I daresay no one has taken any serious harm. If Skelbrooke must die, I shall make every effort to see that I am not selected to do the job. I may even feel some slight regret, in light of our former association, that it was I who brought him here. But it will not trouble me for long. Believe me, I have far worse things on my conscience. Were that not so, I should still be in solemn fact the clergyman I pretend to be. And as for helping the two of you escape, as you seem to be suggesting, my goodness does not extend nearly so far."

  He placed the tray on the floor, near the foot of the mattress, and left the storeroom, locking the door behind him.

  Sera examined the contents of the tray. There was a wooden tankard filled with water, and a covered plate containing quite a good supper: beef and eggs and bread and fruit. It appeared that Lord Skogsrå was indeed solicitous. It would not suit his purpose to have his bride fainting from weakness in the middle of the ceremony.

  "Lord Skelbrooke," said Sera, as they shared the meal between them, "you would not have your pocket watch or anything similarly useful about you?" She felt reluctant to speak too plainly, for fear someone was listening at the door.

  "No," said Skelbrooke bleakly. "I regret to say that Euripides Hooke relieved me of all such useful items. I have an idea he knows full well the secret of the pocket watch, though how he knows I cannot guess."

  They ate in silence for a time. Then Skelbrooke lay back on the mattress with a deep sigh.

  "My lord, you look so pale and you tremble so violently," said Sera. "I am convinced that your wound troubles you exceedingly."

  "The ball was removed and the wound cleaned and bandaged while you were upstairs. It does not trouble me very much. The symptoms you notice are the result of enforced abstinence from the Sleep Dust," said Skelbrooke. "I have now been some twelve hours without the drug. The habit has been growing on me, over the last two years especially, and I am accustomed to take a pinch in the morning and in the afternoon, and a larger dose before I retire. I neglected to take the afternoon dose because—well, it scarcely matters."

  "You did not take it this afternoon because you were with me, and you did not like to take out the box, for fear I should see and disapprove," said Sera, with bitter self-reproach.

  "As you had every reason to do. It is a most pernicious habit, for all that I told you otherwise." He winced as he shifted his position on the mattress. "It is only right to warn you that my condition is like to grow very much worse before the end. But Mr. Kelly was entirely correct: another day must pass before the hallucinations and the most unfortunate effects begin. When that time comes—when that time comes, I beg you will discount anything I may say to you, as the ravings of a madman. I shall not care for anything or anyone but myself. But whatever they may do to me, whatever I may ask of you, you must not do anything against your inclination."

  Sera turned her face away, so that he could not see how profoundly his words had affected her. "I shall not deceive you," she said very steadily. "I had far rather die than marry Lord Skogsrå and submit to his—how peculiarly and dreadfully appropriate the phrase for a troll!—his carnal appetites. But I shall not stand by and watch them abuse you, when my compliance may spare you pain. I love you, my lord, far too well for that."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  In which Jarl Skogsrå becomes Singularly persuasive.

  They passed a long, miserable, restless night on the straw tick, lying on their backs side by side. Once, Sera woke to find the bed next to her empty; she heard movement in the darkness at the foot of the mattress. When she spoke his name, Skelbrooke whispered back reassuringly.

  He lay down beside her again and spoke directly in her ear. "I did not wish to say anything earlier, for fear we were somehow watched or overheard . . . perhaps I should not speak now, lest I raise false hopes when I have not formulated any plan. Though my pistols and pocket watch and other weapons are gone, there remain several small items sewn into the seams of my coat. One of them—a magic talisman dedicated to Triune, the Patron Fate of Prisoners—I have removed and hold in my hand.

  "How I may use it to our advantage," he whispered, "I do not yet know. But I am skilled in the use of talismans and the spells associated with them. I may be able to accomplish something. But if I cannot . . ." Sera felt something small and cold pushed into her hand. ". . . here is a vial of poison. You are not to do anything rash! You cannot poison Skogsrå by swallowing this before he feeds on your blood, but you may find an opportunity to slip the contents of the vial into the wedding cup before Skogsrå drinks."

  "Yes," Sera whispered back. "I understand." And she slipped the little glass vial inside her corset.

  In the morning, as the light began to creep back into the room, he lay on his back very still and silent, his mouth set in a hard straight line, and his lips very white.

  Sera bent over him. "Lord Skelbrooke . . . Francis . . . is there anything I can do to ease the pain in your shoulder?"

  "Yes," he said softly, and surprised her by weaving his fingers through her hair and drawing her face down to his for a long, hungry kiss, his mouth moving over hers with an urgency that both thrilled and terrified her.

  "Sera," he said on a breath, between kisses, "I am not yet so ill as it might appear. The pain is only a minor distraction. But it is necessary for me to concentrate, while I still can, to gather my mental forces in order to activate the talisman."

  "In that case," whispered Sera, drawing a little away, "I will not distract—"

  But his fingers remained tangled in her hair. "In that case," he said against her mouth, "one more kiss, and then we must end this pleasant distraction."

  There was a faint click, the sound of a key turning in the lock, and the door creaked open. Skelbrooke instantly released her. Blushing hotly, Sera sat up, just as Skogsrå entered the storeroom prison.

  "I see you are taking Mr. Kelly's advice," said the troll. Though he spoke lightly, a frown appeared between his eyes, as though his proprietary interest in Sera might be stronger than his confederate supposed.

  He closed the door behind him, leaned up against it, with his arms folded across his chest. "Well, well, I shall not allow it to trouble me. Indeed, I come to make a bargain with you, one you may like better than Mr. Kelly's proposition. You wish to save Lord Skelbrooke's life, and I wish to marry you as soon as possible. Kelly does not dare to offer you the life of your paramour, but it is within my power to do so, if we make haste."

  "I do not understand you."

  "Then I shall explain it. Kelly fears the anger of the Duchess, should she return and discover that we have interfered with her plans—that is precisely as Lord Skelbrooke guessed." The troll leaned toward them. His breath was rapid and his face flushed. "But I do not intend to be here when she arrives, so it does not matter to me what she thinks. I have not been quite myself of late, and your blood, my Sera, will serve as a kind of medicine by which I may regain my strength. Then the golem Cecile and I will go away from this place, before the Duchess returns. For that reason, I propose this bargain: consent to marry me this afternoon, and I shall set Lord Skelbrooke fr
ee, directly afterwards."

  Sera glared suspiciously up at him. She did not rise, but remained seated with her hands in her lap, the chains hidden in the folds of her skirt, for the iron cuffs shamed her, they made her so utterly helpless. "In despite of Mr. Kelly? I do not believe that you would do that. He is such a dangerous man."

  "Ah," said Skogsrå, bending further forward, lowering his voice to a confidential half-whisper. "He is supremely dangerous, but treacherous as well, and I do not trust him. Why, I ask myself, does he delay and delay? Yes, he wishes to make a kind of experiment of Lord Skelbrooke, to watch him deteriorate as the craving for the drug grows. But the Duchess may return sooner than we think, and I must be well on my way before then. I must be far beyond her reach."

  The troll let out his breath in a long hissing sigh. "This should concern Mr. Kelly as much as it concerns me—for if the Duchess overtakes me, shall I not tell her of Kelly's complicity? Of course I must do so; I will not take all the blame for myself. Yet Mr. Kelly is not concerned; Mr. Kelly makes no push to bring this thing off. It would seem that this sorcerer, this walking dead man, neither wishes me to escape nor to be captured alive. When the Duchess returns, we will all be dead: myself, Mr. Tynsdale, the pair of you, as well. Then the Duchess depends on no one but Mr. Kelly, who claims the credit for striking me down in the midst of my disobedience. A demonstration of loyalty, as it will seem, which will only be prelude to further betrayal when he finds the Duchess no longer of use."

  Sera's heart was racing at this chance, this very slight chance. But she made a great effort to conceal her excitement, lest the troll realize how desperately eager she was to believe him.

  "I do not understand you," she repeated. "Why should Mr. Kelly wish to betray the Duchess?"

  "I do not perfectly understand this myself," said Skogsrå, unfolding his arms and shifting his position. "There are things which happen here that no one confides in me, but I know there is something afoot. The Duchess says she is on the verge of a great discovery. Mr. Kelly pretends ignorance, but I have seen his face in an unguarded moment. I know the look of a man ruled by an obsession, and I think the Duchess has stumbled on something that touches on his ruling purpose, the thing for which he died and came alive again. Something went wrong, Miss Vorder, when your grandfather revived him, that much I know. And he has not so very long to seek this something he wants, because he is slowly rotting from the inside out. Now it appears that the Duchess pursues the same goal. So he allows her to seek this thing, to use her wealth and influence to buy ships and the sailors to man them, then he will step in at the end, and claim all the spoils."

  By this time, Lord Skelbrooke was sitting up, and listening as intently as Sera.

  "You might be thinking: if he wants me dead, why lie to me and beguile me by pretending to aid me?" the troll continued. "He might strike me dead with a single touch. But it amuses him to manipulate us all, to observe our behavior, after he initiates the action. We are all matter for philosophical experimentation as far as Mr. Kelly is concerned. And he thinks me too stupid to guess what he intends, too dull of comprehension to appreciate the subtle workings of his mind. But I am more clever than he and the Duchess are willing to allow, and I am perfectly capable of seeing through his plot.

  "For which reason," he said, "if you are willing to bargain, by the time we are married . . . there will be no more Mr. Kelly."

  Sera took a deep breath, released it slowly. "But that is impossible. If you mean to kill him, I do not see how you hope to accomplish it. We know that he is impervious to fire and to poison, that physical violence will stun but not kill him. How, then, can there be 'no more Mr. Kelly'?"

  The troll took a limping step or two in her direction. "Lord Skelbrooke has provided me with the means to destroy him. Yes, the exploding pocket watch, the mechanism of which Mr. Hooke so kindly explained to me. Is it likely, do you think, that Mr. Kelly can survive exploding?"

  Sera and Skelbrooke exchanged a glance. "No," said his lordship, "I rather fancy that he cannot."

  "Nevertheless," said Sera, "even if you should first eliminate Thomas Kelly, how can we possibly trust you to keep your end of the bargain? You betray the Duchess, you betray Mr. Kelly. How can we expect you to keep faith with us?"

  "It does not matter if you trust me or not," said Skogsrå, "You must bargain with me simply because you are unlikely to find any surer means of escape. Once I have killed Mr. Kelly, you will at least know that I am so far sincere in my intentions. Marry me this afternoon, Miss Vorder, and as soon as I have toasted our union in a goblet of your blood, I shall not only set Lord Skelbrooke free, but you as well."

  Sera drew in a startled breath. "I shall go free as well? You do not wish to keep me as your wife?"

  "It would be amusing to do so. But I think, on the whole, you would bring me more trouble than pleasure," said the troll. "Indeed, dear Sera, I have long admired you. It was you I should have wished to marry in Thornburg, had the Duchess not chosen poor Elsie for me instead. I have always desired you for your abundant vitality—with you beside me, I should be stronger than I have ever been before—but my affections are already otherwise engaged."

  "But I should not truly be free," said Sera. "I would still remain bound to you, as poor Elsie remains in your power. Can you deny that it was you who came to Elsie in her dreams at night?"

  "That was not due to any tie between us, believe me. That came as a function of my—please excuse the indelicacy—my congress with the golem. They are in some sense the same person, you know. But I was not fully aware of the implications until the evening you summoned my spirit to Mothgreen Hall. But you shall be entirely free of me. Yes, I swear it. Moreover, when I take Cecile away with me, Elsie will benefit as well."

  "Why then—" began Sera.

  But Skelbrooke interrupted her, speaking urgently. "You must not believe him, Sera. He will not keep his word."

  "Perhaps he will not," said Sera, refusing to meet his eyes. "But we must rely on him to do so. As he points out, it is our only chance of both leaving here alive. Of course it means that you and I cannot marry . . . and I shall quite understand if you do not feel the same about me afterwards. Indeed, considering the vile nature of the union I am about to enter into, I should not blame you at all."

  Here she faltered, and required a moment to regain her composure, before going on. "Very well, Lord Skogsrå, I will marry you. Make whatever arrangements are necessary."

  ***

  Thomas Kelly sat in the dining hall at the head of the table reading by candlelight a dog-eared volume that one of the servants had unearthed for him somewhere in the house. Every now and then, he took a sip of wine or nibbled a piece of bread.

  He looked up, without much interest, when Skogsrå entered the room. "You are rather late this morning. Did you eat in your room?" But then he caught sight of the object in the troll's hand. "That is Skelbrooke's watch, is it not?"

  The troll smirked at him. "You need not fear. Mr. Hooke has disarmed it by removing the explosive. Do you think me such a fool as to play with a live grenado?" He began fiddling with a tiny gold key. "I am attempting to discover how the mechanism works. It is very complex."

  A gleam of suspicion appeared in Kelly's dark eyes. "Yes, I see. No doubt you would wish me to demonstrate for you?"

  The Jarl bridled. "Thank you, no. You think this is beyond my powers of comprehension, do you? Let me tell you, I grow tired of being treated as though I had no brains at all!" He moved toward the other end of the table, still tinkering with the watch and the key.

  "My apologies," murmured Kelly, going back to his book. "I should have known that even such a simple stratagem was beyond you."

  But he looked up a minute later when he heard a small click, followed by a sharp thud, as the watch landed on the table in front of him, looked up just in time to see Skogsrå throw himself flat on the floor, and to catch the brilliant, burning flash as the watch exploded.

  The troll pushed himself up fr
om the floor, and dusted off his hands. Mr. Kelly's chair had been reduced to a heap of smoking splinters, as was much of the table. As for Kelly himself, small bits of bone and flesh were scattered all about the room, but there was surprisingly little blood.

  Skogsrå gagged, drew out a handkerchief, and held it over his nose. The air was thick with smoke, reeking with vile odors: the sharp, acid scent of explosive powder, and the stench of mortifying flesh. Looking down, the troll discovered a nasty-looking stain on the skirt of his coat.

  Jarl Skogsrå shrugged. He had intended to change his costume before the wedding anyway.

  ***

  Down in the cellar, Sera and Skelbrooke felt the building rock with the explosion. Shortly thereafter, a smell of smoke and picric acid wafted in through the barred window. "It would be too much to hope for," said Skelbrooke, with a savage little laugh, "that Skogsrå underestimated the range of the blast and destroyed himself, too."

  An hour later, the troll and Moses Tynsdale entered the storeroom prison. Skogsrå carried two pistols, and Tynsdale the key to Skelbrooke's chains.

  Tynsdale unlocked one iron cuff and roughly jerked the injured arm out of its sling. "Put your arms behind you." His lordship obeyed, and his wrists were chained together once more. Sera thought she caught a glint of metal between his fingers, but in the dim light nobody else seemed to notice.

  "We heard the blast," said Skelbrooke. "Yet—you must forgive me—that is really no proof that Thomas Kelly is dead."

  "He was already dead," said Skogsrå. The troll had dressed for his coming nuptials in his beautiful green and scarlet uniform, with white lace at his throat, gold tassels on his boots, and a scarlet ribbon tying each golden lovelock. He looked very gay and debonair. "But of course you may view the remains if you wish. There is not much left of him, I fear, but some of it you may recognize. I think we can spare my betrothed, however. She will trust you to make the necessary identification."