Scholar's Plot

by Hilari Bell

  The wagons those beasts hauled would be in the stable, which explained the heavy padlock on the door. If I had my lock picks with me, it would have been a great place to get out of sight … except for the fact that we’d no way to relock the door behind us. That missing lock would be clear as a signpost to anyone paying attention, and at this point I wasn’t about to underestimate either Pig or Squirrel’s intelligence.

  “We have to go on,” Kathy said. “There’s no place to hide here.”

  “Maybe there is,” I said, seized with a sudden idea. “How much do you think that bundle of hay hanging up there weighs?”

  “About twenty-four stone,” country-girl Kathy said promptly. “Hay’s heavier than you’d think, packed tight like that. Why?”

  “How much do the two of us weigh?”

  “Mayhap twenty… Oh. Would that work? And how would we get down?”

  “I could climb down the rope, and then lower you.”

  “Without dropping me?”

  “And there might be windows we could open from the inside.”

  Despite her skepticism, she followed me across the yard to the stable.

  “That pulley up there, it’s designed to let someone lift things heavier than they usually could. It should work in reverse, too. I bet that book we found had a formula for it.”

  Thinking the process through, I took the loose rope that trailed from the cleat that held the load suspended, and tied two loops in it.

  “Step into this.” I slid one loop under her foot. “And hold onto the rope above it.”

  “Are you sure about this?” But she did as I asked, and I stepped into the other loop.

  “Not entirely. But why not try? The worst that’s likely to happen is that the hay is too light to lift us, I refasten the rope, and we go on.”

  I was unwrapping the rope from the cleat as I spoke, and I could feel the tension increasing.

  “Or it could be so heavy it flings us into the air,” Kathy said. “Or against the wall, and we get knocked unconscious and fall and break our necks. Or end up hanging upside down from a broken leg, or—”

  “Hang on,” I said, and the last twist of rope came free.

  There were only a few feet of slack from the wraps, but I had only one hand on the rope I was undoing. I’d intended to release it slowly, but the weight of the hay yanked it through my grip at rope burn-inducing speed. The jerk on our looped feet would have knocked us down, if we hadn’t been holding the suddenly stiff rope above it. But once our weight started balancing the drop of the hay…

  “’Tis like floating!”

  I wasn’t sure floating entailed this much spin, but we were rising slowly now.

  “’Tis like being lifted in some gentle giant’s ha—”

  “Watch out!” The great mass of hay was descend- ing toward our heads. “Push off! Push off! Take us around it!”

  Since we had to keep one hand on the rope, we both had to push and pull our way around the huge, prickly bundle, but by dint of squirming, and a burst of panic on my part, we managed to keep from being crushed or knocked off the rope and slithered higher — quite high enough to kill us if we fell, by the time the ride ended.

  Because of the extra rope twisted around the cleat and the height of the bundled hay, the bottom of the portal was closer to level with our ribs than with our feet. But since our counterweight had settled on the ground, the rope felt almost stable. A bit of swinging allowed us to half fall, bruisingly, over the threshold and wiggle into the loft. Which turns out to be hard to do if you’re wearing layer on layer of fluffy petticoats.

  Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing hoops, or I don’t think we’d have managed.

  “I should have disguised you as a boy.” I freed our feet, and hung the rope over a hook that was so handy it had probably been set there for that purpose. “Those skirts are a cursed nuisance.”

  “I’ll admit, britches would be better for— Oh!”

  Kathy wobbled on her feet, and then toppled into a pile of loose hay, but even her startled shriek had been sotto voce, so as not to attract attention.

  “Did you turn an ankle?” I knelt and pulled off her shoes, preparing to check for swelling. It had better not be broken. We still had to get ourselves down and home, once I was reasonably certain Pig and Squirrel had moved on.

  But it wasn’t her ankle that was broken — the heel of one of those fancy court shoes came off in my hand.

  “Curse it. You can’t go home barefoot on the cobbles.”

  “They weren’t designed for fighting and running in,” Kathy pointed out. “I’m surprised the silly things last-ed this long.”

  She’d turned herself over in the hay, and was picking straws out of her rumpled hair.

  The great Green Moon cast its light into the loft, sparkling on her spectacles, revealing the rueful amusement in her expression. Despite her fine court clothes, she looked no older than she had when we first met.

  But that had been more than three years ago. She wasn’t fourteen, now.

  The universe shifted beneath me, and began to revolve in a new direction. My heart was beating so hard my ears rang, and her slim feet were still in my hands so she felt me stiffen.

  “Fisk? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

  So glad she was unhurt, and alive in the same world I was, that my whole body sang with joy.

  But if nothing was wrong, there wasn’t much right, either. Even if I said something, and she reacted the way I so wanted her to — which she probably wouldn’t — the moment her father heard about this he’d clap her up in a tower, or marry her off to Rupert-the-Heir, or someone even worse. And as for what he’d do to me…

  The baron had already seen one of his children run off with me, though Michael had been disowned at the time. I was pretty sure I’d end up dead if I tried to abscond with another. Particularly a child as precious to him as she must be.

  “Fisk?”

  My face was in the shadow, but I’d been sitting motionless too long. I let go of her feet, and turned as if to stare out at the yard. I should have been watching for pursuers, but in truth I paid so little attention it was a wonder I didn’t step over the edge. The only thing I was aware of was the soft rustling sounds Kathy made as she settled herself to wait. I wondered that she couldn’t hear the thunderous beat of my heart … but there was no reason for her to be as aware of me as I suddenly was of her.

  And I didn’t dare try to change that. Her father would stop at nothing to separate us, the moment he found out. I couldn’t support her, either. I had no life but that of a roving con artist — which even I wouldn’t ask Kathy to share. Though with a bit of training, she might be quite good at… No. And I had no prospect of any other life.

  “Fisk? What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I said. Because it was nothing, and that wasn’t going to change. Even if she could be brought to feel something for me, her father… Be hanged to him, Michael might kill me for this.

  “Are you sure ’tis nothing?” She came to stand beside me, but instead of looking out she was looking up at me. She smelled like sunlight on leaves… Why had I never noticed that before?

  “Yes.” I had to clear my throat to go on. “Nothing out there.”

  But what was here in the loft breathed and pulsed with life, growing stronger by the minute.

  I had to get out of here. I had to give nothing away, get her home, and then run as fast and as far as I could.

  Even though I was indebted to her, till Benton was proved innocent? Forget the legal debt — I really did owe her for getting me out of gaol.

  And Michael? What did I owe him? And what about poor Benton, and even the jeweler…?

  How had I ended up with so many people in my life who mattered? It might not have been Michael’s fault, but I had no hesitation blaming him for it, anyway.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said aloud. “Let’s go down to the stable and find a wind
ow we can climb out of. Then I’ll take you home.”

  Back to her brothers. Because no matter what else might happen, this woman wasn’t for me.

  When we finally came together ’twas long past time for breakfast. Fisk and Kathy hadn’t returned by the time I got back to Benton’s rooms, so True and I waited up for them, growing more and more concerned. Since he was sleeping on a cot in his front room, while Kathy took his bed, Benton waited with us.

  When they finally came in, some of the delay was explained by the fact that Kathy was wearing her and Fisk’s stockings, while he carried her broken shoes. And it made sense that they’d take some time to make sure that big man’s sister hadn’t followed them.

  I was tense from the long wait and would have had the full tale then, but Benton was yawning and Fisk said, rather shortly, that Kathy was tired.

  She didn’t look tired to me. She was stepping a bit gingerly but her eyes sparkled, and under the leftover excitement of that wild night I thought I saw a sort of wonder.

  Fisk was the one who looked tense and pale. But I acceded to his request and we agreed to meet and share our stories at breakfast … though by the time we’d all awakened and wandered down to Benton’s rooms, ’twas near midday.

  I told them … not quite the whole story, for my possession of magic was a thing I’d shared with no one but Fisk, and I’d no desire for my family to learn of it. I was eager to talk to Fisk about it as soon as we had some privacy. And how odd it was to still feel anger that, when he’d freed Jack, Fisk had lied to me and betrayed all the principles I held dear … and at the same time, to know without doubt that he would never betray my secret to anyone.

  Loyalty was the core of Fisk’s nature, and ’twas loyalty, felt toward another, that had made him betray me. If I was relying on that very trait, was it right to blame him for offering it to others? But how could I not condemn it, when it induced him to let criminals, quite vicious criminals, go free? I knew that Jack Banister would never reform … and so did Fisk, and he’d let him go anyway.

  I still couldn’t agree with that, but I found it increasingly hard to maintain my anger.

  I told them, somewhat truthfully, that I’d been forced to take to the river to elude my pursuer. Benton repeated a comment he’d made when I dripped my way in last night, about how only idiots strayed far from the bank, because the currents farther out could sweep the strongest swimmer away. Fisk, uncharacteristically, made no comment at all. Kathy said, somewhat absently, that she was glad I’d escaped.

  She kept stealing glances at Fisk, and Fisk seemed to be taking pains not to return them.

  They both became more animated when they talked about the game. Kathy assured me that even she had seen the strange couple cheating — and that she’d almost tripped over the girl as she’d gathered up the money that had fallen from the table.

  “So how much did you lose?” Benton asked. “You paid for the jeweler’s housing as well — aren’t you running short?”

  Kathy shook her head. “’Twas was only one hand’s bet, and I haven’t spent half the dress allowance Mother gave me. If I do run short, I can write and ask for more.”

  An odd expression swept over Fisk’s face, but it vanished so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. He launched into the tale of how, after leaving the tavern, they’d crept down a nearby alley and hidden in a stable loft till they were sure they could make their way home safely. But I was more interested in another aspect of the game.

  “From what you say, ’tis unlikely Stint has lost so much he’d accept a bribe to sabotage the project. Which means the whole affair was for naught.”

  “We only eliminated one suspect,” Fisk said. “Anyone who worked on the project might have some need for money that we don’t know about.”

  “Benton should know,” Kathy put in. “Since he works with them. But I expect he’s been completely oblivious.”

  “I’m not oblivious,” Benton protested. “I just don’t pry into other people’s business.”

  “Oblivious,” Kathy repeated.

  “But others might not be,” I said slowly. “If we want to inquire into that, ’twould make sense to start with the one man that we know doesn’t need money. Besides, he owes Fisk a good turn. Benton, didn’t you say you’d finished recreating your research?”

  “’Tis Skinday,” Benton protested. “He’ll be at home.”

  “All the better,” Fisk pointed out. “We won’t have to catch him between lectures.”

  “I think I’ll stay home,” Kathy said. “My feet are a little tender from yesterday.”

  This might well be true, but ’twas so unlike the little sister who’d trailed after us with bleeding knees, and once a badly sprained wrist, that Benton and I both stared.

  She lifted her chin and stared back.

  “I’ll take the dishes to the tavern,” Fisk said, “and meet you outside after you’ve bundled up Benton’s notes.”

  He scraped off the scraps for True, loaded the empty plates and bowls into the basket and departed. Benton had already picked up his notes — which sat all of three steps away, tied into a neat roll with a bit of string. I looked sharply at Kathy.

  “Did you and Fisk quarrel last night?”

  “No.”

  “Then why hasn’t he spoken to you all morning?”

  “He asked me to pass the butter. And he told me I was an idiot for taking on that great ox with nothing but a chair. And he said that next time he’s going to make sure I’m wearing sensible shoes, even if we’re only crossing the street for dinner.”

  “Yes, but…” I couldn’t put the constraint I’d seen into words, but I knew ’twas there.

  “Don’t worry about it. We didn’t quarrel.”

  Her eyes were bright with mischief, and I wondered if she’d done something to tease Fisk. But my squire … associate … partner? could certainly hold his own against Kathy, so I took the notes from Benton and went out to join him.

  On our way to Stint’s lodging, I shared the true tale of my adventures. After remarking that he’d known I was holding something back — which I didn’t see how he could — and the expected diatribe on my foolishness, Fisk started looking more thoughtful.

  “If it obeys your heart’s desire, you’d better be careful what you want.”

  “I thought of that. But it doesn’t work unless I’m in desperate straits, so I don’t think I’m likely to see someone I’m angry with drop dead, or have gold spring out of the air or some such thing.”

  “Pity about the gold.” Fisk dodged around a scholar, who was so intent on the paper he was reading he paid no attention where he walked. “For the rest of it… I wonder if that’s how it works for the jeweler. If he has so little control over his thoughts that nothing gets in the way of his wishes.”

  “If that were true, then Roseman would be dead. We saw him abuse the man.”

  “Being abused doesn’t always stop people from loving someone,” Fisk said soberly. “It should, but I’ve seen it, and I’ll bet you have too.”

  I thought I’d seen it in his own relationship with Jack Banister, even if he couldn’t see it himself. Which made his point even more clearly.

  “Here we are,” Fisk said.

  The landlady, who remembered our previous conversation, gave us a curious look. But she let us in and told us that the professor had the left side of the second floor. He opened the door at my knock.

  “I’ve brought my brother’s notes,” I said, holding them up to show him. “May we come in?”

  Since I was now in charge of the investigation, I’d decided to go with my usual policy of telling the truth. It had worked better, thus far, than duplicity had.

  Stint looked tired, though he’d risen and dressed. But when he saw the tidy roll of papers his whole face lit.

  “Yes, of course, come in. I owe Professor Sevenson for … this…” His gaze had fallen upon Fisk. “What are you doing here?”

  “He’s working with me,” I said, as
Fisk followed me into the room. ’Twas much like Benton’s, though Stint’s shelves held fewer books, and instead were crammed with vials of mysterious liquids, powders, and crystals, and chunks of dull-looking ore.

  “We’re trying to clear my brother’s name,” I went on. “And Fisk played cards with you last night to see if you might have gambling debts so large you’d be tempted to sabotage the project.”

  He stiffened indignantly, and Fisk added quickly, “But someone who counts cards like you do isn’t going to lose. Not enough to matter.”

  “George is better than I am.” Stint now sounded torn between outrage and curiosity, and I gave him Benton’s notes hoping to tip the balance. It took his gaze off of Fisk, and he met my eyes straightly. “Even if I was in debt up to my eyeballs, I wouldn’t sabotage the project. Not by destroying my own work, and particularly not now, when it’s beginning to show results. The payoff from this project could surpass any bribe. I wouldn’t sabotage someone else’s work, either.”

  That last was the more convincing because ’twas said absently, as his gaze returned to Fisk.

  “Were they really cheating? Or was accusing them part of your con?”

  “Signaling like crazy,” Fisk said. “I suspect they’re just passing through, or they wouldn’t have run a Pig and Squirrel. That’s not a game you can play twice. They probably left first thing this morning, before the rest of us were even awake.”

  The professor shrugged off the notion of pursuit. “We get card sharps here sometimes, on their way to Crown City. Were you cheating?”

  “Yes,” Fisk said, to my surprise. “But my partner wasn’t, and she’s the one who put up our stake. And lost some of it.”

  “I saw that girl, gathering up the pot.” Stint’s gaze was still on Fisk, and a grin was spreading across his face. “But I wasn’t about to go back in, not with her brother smashing the place up. You’re very good.”