In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2)

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “Okay, we have fifty-eight seconds to get through that front door before the guards show up again,” Pacian whispered, taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together for warmth. For this job, he needed all the precision his hands could offer, and the gloves would just get in the way. “I don’t see any smoke coming from the chimney and no lanterns are visible through the windows, so I think he’s out for the time being.”

  “This reminds me of old times,” Aiden reminded him as the adrenaline started to kick in.

  “You remember all that now?” Pacian asked absently, fetching the tools of the trade from his pouch.

  “Only the jobs we did after I fell in that cave.”

  “Maybe doing this more often would help jog your memory,” Pacian shrugged, pausing for a few seconds longer before moving across the street to the front door of Bartlett’s house. Aiden followed with measured steps, trying to appear casual in case anyone was watching. Pacian appeared to be fumbling with keys in one of his pouches, an act for their unseen audience while his other hand went to work on the lock.

  It was a brash move, attempting to break in during daytime and in full view of the public. If this didn’t work, Aiden was going to suggest they try to find a more sheltered approach away from the main street. The seconds ticked by as Pace kept working, having moments ago given up the pretence of using keys in order to expedite their entry.

  “Finally,” Pacian whispered as the lock made a satisfying ‘click’, allowing them entry to the small house. They only had seconds to spare when the door was closed, and so far, it looked like they had managed to get inside without raising any suspicions.

  “Are you getting sloppy in your advancing years?” Aiden remarked while glancing at their surroundings.

  “That was the strangest lock I’ve ever seen,” Pacian whispered back. “Took me a bit longer to figure out than I thought, and in the end I just forced it.” They fell silent as they looked around. The room before them was lit only by daylight filtering in through the small windows. The fire was out yet the interior was still a vast improvement on the bitter chill outside.

  At this point, Aiden generally left things to Pacian, who had a nose for sniffing out secret compartments whether in a wall, inside a desk, or even under a loose floorboard. He could only guess at what they were looking for here, and it would take all of his skill to track down any incriminating information hidden inside the house.

  As Pace went to work, Aiden took in the lavish carpeting, plush furniture and cabinets filled with exquisite glasses and plates. Several paintings of elderly statesmen adorned the walls, and upon closer inspection he could see they were family members from years past, patrons of the Bartlett family during the developing years of Fairloch. Pacian spent nearly ten minutes going over every nook and cranny downstairs, with disappointing results.

  “It would have been helpful to have an idea what the hell I’m looking for,” he hissed in frustration. “If it was coins, I could have ransacked the place and been gone five minutes ago.” The sound of a key rattling in front door made Aiden’s heart leap into his throat, and a quick glance showed Pacian stifling the urge to curse loudly. A nearby stairwell beckoned them and within moments they were creeping up to the top level of the house, just as the unexpected owner entered.

  There were three doors leading off a small corridor at the top of the stairs, and all of them were open. Pacian crept forward on the plush carpet, trying to minimise the creaking of his leathers with Aiden following closely. It didn’t sound like the newcomer was heading up the stairs just yet, giving them time to duck into the closest room to hide.

  Judging by the desk and cabinets, it appeared to be a small office with a large quantity of papers scattered about. Thomas was either a disorganised worker, or he had left the place in a hurry. Pacian crouched down under the desk and Aiden moved across the room until he found an alcove to squeeze in, near a wardrobe door. Thinking it a good place to hide, he opened the wardrobe and stepped inside, noticing a chest at his feet.

  He gestured to Pacian who came out from under the desk and cautiously made his way over to the wardrobe and Aiden kept a lookout while Pacian dealt with the chest’s lock. An assortment of valuables was revealed within, including a sealed envelope. Pacian fetched it out and softly closed the chest, handing the envelope to Aiden.

  Holding it towards the window for light, he broke the seal and pulled out a sheet of paper covered with writing, inked in a familiar style.

  ‘My dear associate, I regret your recent loss. Your brother was a man of conviction in difficult times. It is, however, troubling that Commander Black was unable to secure the princess for us. I would have preferred to have her out of the way rather than eliminated, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I have contacted a former assassin, along with diverse associates of a professional nature to assist in this regard.

  If the Senate prove to be as intractable as Criosa, then they must be eliminated as well. Your work thus far has been invaluable to the cause, and I would have you make all necessary arrangements to assist our allies. Please destroy this missive along with the others. Signed, Number One.’

  Aiden placed a hand against the wall to steady himself, for Thomas’ failure to burn this note had turned this whole affair in their favour. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairway put a damper on his spirits, and set his mind racing as to how they would get out with this damning evidence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aiden’s heart thundered in his ears as the footsteps approached. He briefly considered pulling out one of his few remaining scrolls to give him an edge in any confrontation, but quickly withdrew his hand, dismissing the sudden desire as a waste of a limited resource.

  Pacian took up position on the side of the doorway, gesturing at his dagger and making a slashing motion across his throat. Aiden shook his head to indicate this would be a very bad thing.

  Their visitor crested the stairs and Aiden quickly fell back against the wall next to Pacian. Moments later a balding, middle-aged man walked into the room wearing an expensive longcoat over fine clothing and bearing a family resemblance that prompted Aiden to wonder if the entire Bartlett family were criminals.

  As Thomas moved over to the desk, he noticed them and immediately bolted back out the door and down the stairs. Aiden was taken completely by surprise at this reaction but Pace leapt after him like a cat chasing a mouse.

  Aiden snapped out of his trance and rushed after them as Pacian took the man down in a flying tackle that sent both of them tumbling down the stairs with fists flying. Aiden hurried after them but there was nothing he could do to help, for the two of them were rolling around smashing into furniture and tables, knocking plates and other ornaments to the floor.

  Pacian drew a dagger and slashed a wide cut on Thomas’s face, just missing his left eye. Thomas responded by reaching up to a nearby table with one hand, grabbing a vase and bringing it down on Pacian’s head. He reeled from the blow as the vase shattered, dropping his dagger and flailing against the floor. Thomas kicked him away and struggled to his feet, but Aiden drew his sword and rushed forward with the point levelled at the man’s chest.

  “Who the devil are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Thomas exclaimed, breathing hard after the short but vicious fight. His eyes didn’t leave Aiden for a second, giving the impression of a dangerous, hunted individual.

  “Never mind who we are,” Aiden replied grimly, holding the letter aloft in his other hand. “We know you’re involved with the people who attempted to kidnap the princess, and I want to know everything you do about who’s behind this.”

  “What letter? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas protested, wiping a line of red from his face. Aiden looked down at Pacian to make sure he was still alive and saw blood flowing from where the vase had struck him.

  “Pace, are you okay?” he asked, but before his friend could answer Thomas took advantage of the momentary distraction and drew a
rapier from its sheath under his longcoat, skewering the note in Aiden’s hand with one deft movement and ripping it from his grasp. Aiden immediately gave him his full attention, holding his sword up defensively but silently cursing himself for underestimating this man.

  “You are trying to frame me,” Thomas growled after pulling the note off the sword and reading a little of it. “I know that handwriting, and I plan to send you back to your master in tiny pieces.” Aiden didn’t get the chance to protest as Thomas screwed up the note and threw it into the fireplace and then suddenly swung into action, slashing viciously with his blade and forcing Aiden back on his heels.

  Aiden was hoping that Pacian would shake off the daze and help out, but the hit from the vase must have stunned him good and proper. This wasn’t going to end well for them unless something changed.

  “Wait, I yield!” he cried, lowering his blade in desperation. Thomas looked confused for a brief moment, checking to make sure Pacian wasn’t trying to sneak up on him before sending Aiden’s sword across the room with a flick of his wrist.

  “I do not require your surrender, only your death,” Thomas warned.

  “We didn’t plant that note there, but I have a feeling that whoever did wanted people like us to find it,” Aiden explained hastily. “We’re working for the Crown, not whoever this ‘Number One’ person is.” Thomas levelled his gaze at Aiden for a long moment.

  “I believe you, because he would not send a couple of untrained boys to frame me,” Thomas finally stated, lowering his sword.

  “Thank you,” Aiden breathed as the tension left the room. “I need to check on my friend, is that alright?” Thomas nodded, and Aiden rushed over to check on Pacian, who seemed to be regaining his faculties despite being bathed in his own blood.

  “Head wounds bleed the most,” Thomas called out. “He was struck a glancing blow, so he will recover just fine. The same cannot be said for my carpets.”

  “How did you get involved in this, and why would they be trying to frame you?” Aiden asked, pulling out some bandages and beginning to wrap them around Pacian’s head.

  “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my brother, Ronald Bartlett, but he is a renowned businessman who operates -”

  “Yes we met briefly, not long ago,” Aiden interrupted, less than eager to bring up the subject of Bartlett’s death.

  “I see. He was involved with some important members of the Senate, having conducted business with them for many years,” Thomas continued, checking outside the window. “Ron was always very busy, whether it was with the company or meetings with Senator Augustus Johnson, but he would never discuss the nature of their affiliation. I had the distinct impression it was somewhat illegal, so I didn’t press the matter. This all changed when I learned of my brother’s recent death in Lachburne.”

  “I heard about that, and I’m sorry for your loss,” Aiden offered, hoping Thomas would react differently to the way Wesley had.

  “Don’t be - the man was a recalcitrant bigot,” Thomas replied without emotion. “As part of the company’s assets fell to my control, it wasn’t long before Senator Johnson came to me and wanted to bring me on board with his associates, informing me it was a matter of national interest and that as a true patriot, it was a duty I could not refuse.”

  “I declined. He told me I would regret the decision, but that he respected my courage to tell him to his face. Johnson really does think a lot of himself, you know, he’s quite an arrogant old toff.” Aiden finished bandaging Pacian’s wounds and helped him to his feet.

  “So Senator Johnson is this ‘Number One’ chap then?” Aiden asked.

  “No, I don’t think so, but he certainly believes himself equal to whoever is,” Thomas attested. He peered through the window again as he spoke, warily watching those passing by. “Augustus would not be content with following orders for long, of that I am certain.”

  “Are you expecting someone?” Pacian asked, still smarting over his loss to the expert swordsman.

  “I’ve had the distinct feeling that I have been followed since my last meeting with the good Senator,” Thomas explained. “Running into the two of you upstairs took several years off my life, and has forced me to reconsider the level of safety…”

  “Safety of what?” Aiden prompted when Thomas’s voice trailed off. He was leaning against the wall next to one of the windows, and did not answer. Thomas suddenly slumped down to the ground, a crossbow bolt in his chest and an expression of regret on his face.

  Aiden stepped forward to go to his aid but caught a glimpse of a man in a dark cloak just outside the window with a compact crossbow aimed towards him. He leaped to one side as another bolt went past, narrowly missing his neck and lodging into the wall behind them. Aiden crawled across the floor to Thomas, who was staring up at the ceiling with eyes devoid of life.

  The wound in his chest seemed to be smeared with a foul-smelling black substance, and it didn’t take a vast leap of logic to realise he had been shot with a poisoned arrow. Pacian hurried over to the wall next to the window and cautiously peeked around the edge of the frame.

  “He’s getting away,” he hissed.

  “How is that a bad thing?” Aiden shot back. “He just tried to kill me!”

  “All the more reason to make sure he doesn’t live to try it again,” Pacian persisted, pushing the window all the way open and beginning to clamber outside.

  “What about him?” Aiden asked, pointing at the still form of Thomas Bartlett.

  “There’s nothing we can do for him now, except avenge his death,” Pacian growled, hesitating no longer as he pushed through the window and landed on the other side. Cursing under his breath, Aiden joined in the pursuit.

  This particular window opened onto an alleyway, and the two boys could see the assassin dashing away from them near the other end of the narrow passage. Pacian was already running, dodging past boxes and piles of garbage, with Aiden following as quickly as he could manage.

  Their target had disappeared around a corner, which they both took at high speed and continued the chase. The black figure should have been easy to spot against the white ground, but the snow was still falling thickly and the assassin was reduced to a grey blur, taking yet another corner in the maze of alleys.

  By the time they reached the point where they’d last seen their target, he was nowhere to be found. Pacian looked about frantically, and then kicked a box of rubbish in frustration. Aiden was silent and outwardly calm, but inside he screamed in frustration at the loss, both of the assassin and a man who had the integrity to stand against the schemes taking place in the upper hierarchy of the kingdom.

  “We’re done here, Pace,” he told his friend, trying to keep the dejection from his voice, “let’s get back with what we know.” Pacian stood in the middle of the alleyway for a long moment before nodding his head in agreement.

  “I’m going to make the bastard behind this bleed for what he’s done,” he vowed.

  *

  The two boys made their way through the back alleyways of Fairloch. Before they emerged onto the main streets, Pacian spent a few minutes cleaning the blood from his head wound with some of the freezing cold water on the ground. He was still a mess under his cloak, but hopefully the City Watch wouldn’t notice.

  Fortunately, the City Watchmen posted at the main gate between the Market and Senate Districts had their hands full arguing with a loud young man with bright red hair who was protesting the confiscation of his property, allowing them to make their way back to the Fair Maiden without undue scrutiny from the authorities.

  The warmth of the inn was as inviting as ever when the two boys slumped through the door. The crowd at the inn had thinned out since they had departed, and it came as no surprise to Aiden that Mister Kinsey was seated at a table near the door, patiently awaiting their arrival.

  “You seem to have a nose for finding trouble, Mister Savidge,” Kinsey remarked as they gingerly eased into the available seats. “Perhaps one
day we will be able to engage in discussion without your blood dripping on the floor.”

  “You have a strange way of greeting people,” Pacian replied warily.

  “Duly noted,” Kinsey replied curtly. “Now, please explain to me why the two of you appear to have been in a life or death struggle on what was supposed to have been a simple investigation.” Aiden glanced at Pace, who merely shrugged back at him. There was no avoiding the truth - it would only be a matter of time before Thomas Bartlett was found dead, so it was probably best to be straightforward about this delicate issue.

  Aiden went on to explain everything Thomas had mentioned, including the contents of the note, Senator Johnson’s direct involvement and that Thomas had no real affiliation with the conspirators.

  “Show me this note,” Kinsey instructed eagerly.

  “Unfortunately, we ran into Thomas and there was a struggle, during which he managed to take the note from me and throw it into the fire, before we could explain our presence in his house. He claimed it was false, planted there to implicate him and destroy his reputation. He was then shot with a poisoned arrow, dying almost immediately,” Aiden concluded grimly. “We gave chase, but lost the culprit in the back alleyways.” Kinsey remained silent, appearing thoughtful for a long moment before responding.

  “They have covered their tracks well, though it is unfortunate that Mister Bartlett himself disposed of the note, for now we have no evidence aside from your word. I will have one of my men investigate the body, as a poison that kills that quickly would be a rare and expensive thing and that in itself may help us narrow the search. Despite implicating Senator Johnson, your word alone is not enough to conduct a full investigation of such a high-ranking member of society.”

  Aiden groaned and slumped in his chair, stymied by yet another dead end in their investigation. Pacian, however, had a different reaction.