Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  “I am well, Captain, but I fear my best ball gown is ruined.”

  Fletcher laughed. “Quite a loss, but it might have been much worse had you not raised the alarm. Wright, you did well. It’s a pity we did not capture any of them—”

  “Oh, I forgot! Captain, Lieutenant, will you help me retrieve my captive?”

  The man had worked his way around to the eaves and was dangling halfway to the ground when Daphne, Fletcher, and Wright came upon him. “Astonishing,” Fletcher said. “Shall we wait for him to fall, or would you like to bring him to earth rather sooner than that, Lady Daphne?”

  Daphne Skipped to balance on the roof above the man and hauled him up by the wrists despite his struggles, then Skipped back to the ground and handed him off to Wright. “Take him inside,” Fletcher commanded. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

  Daphne followed Wright as he dragged the struggling man into the drawing room and bound his wrists with the curtain tie-back rope. “You need not stay for this, Lady Daphne,” he said.

  “No, I am quite interested, and I feel a measure of responsibility for him.” Daphne seated herself near the man, whom Wright had forced into a kneeling position in the center of the carpet. He had long, greasy black hair and an unshaven face, and wore only a dirty pair of pyjama pants. His bare feet had untrimmed toenails that were grimy and black. He was the least appealing person Daphne had ever seen, but she felt some sympathy for him, being Skipped all over creation and then left to dangle off the roof.

  Wright said something to the man in Hindoostani. The man snarled, but said nothing in return. “Should we not wait for Captain Fletcher?” Daphne asked.

  “I merely asked him how he liked being abandoned by his compatriots,” Wright said. “I probably should not taunt him, but he nearly burned us all to death in our sleep, so I feel a little taunting is deserved.”

  The door opened, and Fletcher entered, trailed by Ainsworth and Phillips. All wore nightshirts, though Phillips had had the presence of mind to don his uniform breeches, into which his nightshirt was hastily crammed. Fletcher looked as serene as if he were wearing full court attire. “The fires are all extinguished, and the arsonists have fled,” he said. “All but this one. Very quick thinking, Lady Daphne.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I regret that I let the other one get away, but I did not believe I could handle two at a time.”

  Fletcher’s lips quirked with amusement. “I will make note of that in your record.” The smile fell away from his face as he regarded the captive. The captive spat at Fletcher’s bare feet and missed. “I wonder if our man here speaks English,” Fletcher mused. He walked around behind the man and splayed his hand across the man’s right cheek, then grabbed hold of his hair with his left hand when the man tried to jerk away from his touch. “Ainsworth?”

  “Do you speak English?” Ainsworth said. The man glared at him but remained silent.

  “He does,” Fletcher said. The man jerked, tried to turn to look back at Fletcher, but Fletcher’s hand held him tightly. “Continue.”

  “Were there more than five of you involved in this attack?” Ainsworth asked.

  Again the man was silent. “Yes, and I believe there were more than ten,” Fletcher said. “We will have to have strong words with the perimeter guards.”

  “Two of them were found dead, their throats slit,” Phillips said. “It left a hole the attackers entered by.”

  “Interesting,” said Fletcher. “Tell me something, man—do you take your orders directly from the new prince, or is there an intermediary?”

  The man snarled. Fletcher pressed his right hand more closely against the man’s cheek. “He has actually spoken with the young man,” Fletcher said.

  “How do that?” the man roared.

  “I am a Discerner and fully intend to intrude upon your privacy,” Fletcher said. “I will get the information I want from you, whether or not you choose to speak. But it may go easier on you if you choose to answer verbally.”

  “Let go, bastard!”

  Fletcher yanked the man’s head back into position. “There is a lady present, and you will watch your language,” he said coldly. “Ainsworth, will you continue? I shall need my full concentration for this one.”

  “Of course.” Ainsworth took up a parade rest position in front of the captive, comical in his nightshirt. His stern face was anything but amusing. “Do you know where the… the prince is hiding?”

  “No!”

  “He does,” Fletcher said. “Or, I should say, he did. His uncertainty tells me the prince will have moved on by now.”

  “Were you meant to survive this raid?” Ainsworth said.

  “Yes,” the man ground out. “My lord Amitabh wastes no men.”

  “True,” Fletcher said.

  “Who slit the guards’ throats?” Ainsworth said.

  “Not a good question,” Fletcher said. “Better stick to yes or no.”

  “Did you slit the guards’ throats?”

  “No,” Fletcher and the man said as one.

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  “That is a lie,” Fletcher said, “but irrelevant to us. Continue.”

  “Were we all meant to die in the fire?”

  “Yes.”

  “To drive the Europeans out of Madhyapatnam?”

  “Yes.”

  Ainsworth took a step back and raised his eyebrows at Fletcher in inquiry. “Does… Amitabh… know there are more soldiers coming?” Fletcher asked. The man was silent. “Are there many of you?” Silence. “Hmm,” Fletcher said. “It seems my lord Amitabh has amassed quite an army. Our friend here has no fear of the soldiers on their way, which means either he is stupid, which despite appearances he is not, or he believes they have numerical superiority. You will show us where the prince is—where he was until recently.”

  “No,” the man said.

  “You will, or you will suffer.” Fletcher wrenched the man’s head around again.

  “Suffer worse if I betray him.” The man’s voice was choked, as if Fletcher had his hands around his throat instead of his face.

  “I wonder if you will continue to believe so as you fall a thousand feet to your death. Lady Daphne?”

  Startled, Daphne jerked to her feet. “Captain?”

  “How far up can you Skip?”

  She could see his face as the captive could not, saw him lower an eyelid in a slow wink, and played along. “I do not know, Captain, I can Skip as far as I can see, which is very far when one is looking up. How far would you like?”

  The man began struggling, enough that Wright had to pin him to the ground. “No!” the man shouted. “I will show!”

  “Very good decision,” Fletcher said. “Wright, keep him secured while the rest of us dress. Lady Daphne, will you accompany us?”

  “I must change—do not leave without me, Captain—” Daphne Bounded to her bedroom, where to her surprise Bess lay still sleeping, undisturbed by the ruckus. There was an unfamiliar, bitter odor in the air, strongest from Bess’s lips and the bedside table. A small brown glass bottle was the source of it. Daphne picked it up and sniffed it. Laudanum. Bess would have needed something to calm her nerves, but this appeared to have knocked her unconscious. Well, if it meant she woke rested and perhaps less distraught, she was welcome to it.

  Daphne struggled out of her ruined gown and into her Bounder uniform and returned to the sitting room, Bounding in and startling Wright. She was the first to descend, as the only two people in the room were Wright and the captive. Wright had released him and sat on one of the sofas, watching the man carefully with a loaded pistol held in one hand. “If you wish to change your clothing, I will watch him,” Daphne offered.

  “I believe Captain Fletcher would skin me alive were I to take you up on that,” Wright said, his blue eyes flashing with amusement.

  “Nevertheless, I could—I know his essence now, and it might permit me to track him, should he escape.”

/>   Wright frowned. “I thought essence belonged to a place. That is, it is not as if I know anything about Bounding but what I have heard from you.”

  “No, that is true, but people have—it is not essence in the same way, but—oh, perhaps you had better just take me at my word that it is possible.” Describing how she identified people to exclude them from her sense of the essence of a place seemed beyond her. It was something she barely understood herself, something an Extraordinary Bounder did by instinct rather than intellect. “At any rate, I—”

  With a roar, the captive launched himself at her, hands impossibly free.

  Daphne shrieked and Skipped to one side. “Kill you,” the man shouted, reaching for Daphne’s throat. An explosion rattled Daphne’s skull, the sound of a gunshot going off close enough to feel. Bright red blood erupted from the back of the man’s skull, spattering Daphne’s face with its hot wetness.

  Daphne saw Lieutenant Wright’s horrified face just before her vision clouded over. “Lieutenant, I cannot,” she began, and the grey mist claimed her.

  She came to herself only seconds later, or so it seemed. Lieutenant Wright knelt over her, rolling her onto her back, wiping her face with a rough cloth. “Lady Daphne, are you injured? Can you sit? I didn’t hit you, did I? Please, Lady Daphne, say something!”

  “I am well,” Daphne began, then saw the body of the arsonist collapsed with his upper body lying on the sofa. Half his head was missing. “Oh,” she said, and wrenched away from Wright’s supporting hands. “Oh, he is dead, how did he free himself, you shot him, I believe Captain Fletcher will be displeased.” She sucked in a deep breath, then regretted it, for the air was full of the smell of blood.

  She heard heavy footsteps running down the hall. “What in the—” said Captain Ainsworth. “Lady Daphne! She’s injured!”

  “No, she is well, Captain, I—I was forced to shoot the captive, and Lady Daphne—”

  Fletcher shoved Ainsworth aside and dropped to his knees beside Daphne. “Are you well?” he murmured, putting a gentle hand on her arm.

  “I am well, it was just all the blood,” Daphne said. She was afraid to sit up again, afraid of what she might see.

  “Remove the body,” Fletcher said. “Wright, you had better have a good explanation for this.”

  From Daphne’s perspective, Wright was little more than a pair of nostrils and a strong chin. “The captive escaped and attacked Lady Daphne, sir—”

  “You let that happen?”

  “I must have tied him improperly, sir, I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it is all entirely my fault!”

  “And you could not subdue him?”

  “I panicked, sir. I thought he was going to kill Lady Daphne.”

  “Lady Daphne can take care of herself. She should not be forced to do so. On your honor as a gentleman.” Fletcher turned his back on Wright. “Help Ainsworth with the body. And give me that pistol. You’ve lost the right to carry one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Daphne had never heard anyone sound so defeated, and her heart went out to him even as she cursed him for a fool. They had lost important information thanks to his carelessness.

  When Ainsworth, Wright, and their gruesome burden had left the drawing room, Fletcher said, “Can you sit?”

  “I imagine so, Captain.” Daphne kept her eyes averted from the mess on the sofa. “I believe Sir Rodney will—”

  “What is going on down here?” Sir Rodney bellowed. He was haphazardly dressed, but commanded the room as if perfectly groomed. “First arson, now gunshots—my word, Lady Daphne, there is blood on your face!”

  That was not the kind of reminder Daphne needed. She swayed, and Fletcher’s strong hand gripped her upper arm and kept her upright. “An unfortunate accident,” he said. “Our man was shot while trying to escape.”

  “Fletcher, this is too much. I’m inclined to send you all back to Calcutta and barricade this place until the regiment arrives.”

  “You will not be able to hold out,” Fletcher said coolly. “The missing heir, Amitabh, has extensive resources and some kind of secret army. Our best hope for surviving this is to find him before he strikes at us.”

  “If he has such a large army, why hasn’t he come after us before now?”

  “I don’t know.” Fletcher’s voice was tense and angry. “I thought he intended to build up support for a popular revolt, but then he attempted to burn this place down, making a direct attack. Yet if he is capable of that… What is he thinking?” He sounded as if he were speaking to himself.

  “Well, the ladies at least should—”

  “I am needed in case the worst happens, and we must evacuate,” Daphne said, quickly heading off that line of thought. “And I cannot stay here alone, so Bess must remain with me.”

  “Sir Rodney, keep your men close, and let me handle the rest,” Fletcher said. “Now, I will help Lady Daphne to her room. She has received a couple of nasty shocks today.”

  “Of course, of course. This room looks like an abattoir. I will have the ruined furniture removed at first light. Take care, Lady Daphne.”

  To her surprise, Daphne’s legs wobbled too badly for her to stand unsupported, and she gratefully leaned on Fletcher as they walked down the hall toward the stairs. “I can Bound, Captain,” she said in a low voice.

  “I am afraid you might collapse upon arrival,” Fletcher said. “Humor me.”

  He sounded so grim Daphne only nodded. “At least blood does not show on a War Office uniform,” she said.

  “Your capacity to see the best in the worst situations astounds me.”

  “I find that there is almost always a bright way to look at things, and I prefer to be cheerful than gloomy. Though sometimes I am wrong… poor Bess. I do not believe there is anything positive to be seen in her circumstance.”

  “She was very attached to the young man?”

  “Yes, but not the way you imagine, it was not romantic love… I cannot share her secrets with you, Captain.”

  “You’re right. Forgive me for prying.”

  They reached the top of the stairs, and Daphne opened her bedroom door. “Thank you, Captain. I will be well in the morning.”

  “It is nearly morning now. Try to sleep a few hours.”

  “What will you do, now that you no longer have a prisoner to guide you?”

  Fletcher shook his head. “I am too exhausted to think. Things may look better once I have slept.”

  “Something else troubles you, though.”

  “I forget how observant you are. It is nothing I wish to trouble you with.”

  “Please, Captain, let me share your burden. Perhaps I will see something you do not.”

  “Very well. How did the prisoner break free to attack you?”

  “I—well, Lieutenant Wright did not secure him properly. We were all in a great hurry, and I suppose he was careless.”

  “I wonder.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “That is the question. What else could it be?”

  “You cannot imagine the lieutenant meant for that man to escape? But why?”

  “I cannot imagine. But Wright is a good officer. I’ve never known him to be careless like that, especially when others’ lives are at stake. And he has been behaving strangely.” He blew out his breath. “It weighs on my mind. Clearly I need rest if I can consider such wild thoughts.”

  “Sleep well, Captain.”

  “And you, Lady Daphne.” He caught her hand before she could turn away. “I apologize for putting you in danger, however inadvertently.”

  In the dimness of the hall, his eyes were two dark pools she might drown in. “You said it yourself, Captain,” she said, trying for a light tone, “I can take care of myself.”

  “Nevertheless.” He squeezed her hand, then released her. “Good night.”

  Daphne slipped inside the room, wincing at how the door squealed, but Bess did not sit up, demanding to be told what was happening. She closed the door and wear
ily stripped off her uniform, then bathed her face and hands, hoping she had got all the blood off. In her nightgown, she lay on her bed and let her aching muscles relax. To think she had come to India longing for adventures. She was beginning to have her fill of them.

  In which time is running out

  ess was still sleeping when Daphne rose a few hours later. She looked peaceful, as if nothing bad had ever troubled her. Daphne examined the little brown bottle of laudanum more closely. It smelled horribly bitter, not like anything edible. She set it down and wiped her fingers on her gown, deciding against waking Bess. Surely sleep could only help her.

  She heard the argument when she was halfway down the hall from the dining room. Though the dining room door was closed, the sound was loud and unmistakable. Daphne approached with trepidation. Sir Rodney’s booming voice warred with Fletcher’s baritone, normally a calm sound, but now furious. She hesitated with her hand on the knob, decided her presence might have a calming effect, and entered.

  “I have a responsibility to the Company, damn you!” Sir Rodney bellowed.

  “A responsibility—” Fletcher roared, then registered Daphne’s presence and visibly contained himself. He dropped into his chair and glared at Sir Rodney. “You do not have a responsibility to incite public revolt,” he continued in a quieter, though no less intense, voice.

  “Can you guarantee that any given Hindoo on the streets is not a member of this Amitabh’s army?” Sir Rodney said.

  “I cannot. But that is irrelevant. What you propose will inflame public opinion against us and will increase Amitabh’s power. If you shut down the bazaar, we may be facing more than a simple riot.”

  “They won’t dare strike at us. Our men are still better armed, better trained—”

  “There aren’t enough of them. Sir Rodney, see sense. We must find Amitabh himself and prevent him from taking advantage of the current unrest.”

  Sir Rodney still had not taken his seat. His fist curled around his fork as if he meant to use it on Fletcher. “You were the one who informed me that Amitabh’s forces were mingled with the general populace. The bazaar is a natural place for them to meet and induct others into their ranks. I cannot permit it to remain open, for everyone’s safety.”