by Bell, Hilari
There’s nothing like a shared enemy to make you a friend — or at least an ally — and we soon found ourselves riding beside the Flintruckers, as they led us into the wooded foothills. They walked so briskly that the horses weren’t slowed up by much. The dog followed behind, keeping his distance, but he didn’t whine or growl, which I considered a hopeful sign.
The Flintruckers were trappers, they said. They’d been out setting a line when five men, led by the man whose hand Meg had bitten, had ridden up to their cabin and departed with Tizz, leaving Mam tied to a chair.
The slender nobleman had stayed to wait for them, and the knife he held at Mam’s throat convinced them to listen instead of killing him. The first thing he said was that if he didn’t return to his men that night, they’d kill Tizzabeth.
“After that, we couldn’t do anything to stop him. He didn’t even have to hold Mam hostage, anymore. He told us to find you all, near Tottenham,” Brown, whose real name was Doug, told us. “We were to trail you till there was a coach or a rider on the road in front of you, then hold ’em up, making it look like a robbery. And when you came to rescue ’em, we was to kill Master Rupert here.” He gave Rupert a friendly nod. “But we were supposed to make sure at least one of you survived, along with the person we was robbing, to make sure everyone knew that it was a real robbery and that Master Rupert died trying to stop us. Any chance you’ve been having some accidents, lately?”
“A few,” said Rupert. “And the woman in the coach we asked about, and whom they’ve kidnapped too, is my fiancée.”
He sounded as if he meant it, and Kathy’s brows shot up. I was only surprised the decision had taken him so long.
“Are you sure no one saw her?” Rupert added.
“If there’d been a coach, Mam would have told us,” said Ginger, whose name was Cal. “And he didn’t say anything about your girl, either. But then, no reason he would. He just gave us our orders; rob someone, kill you. We saw him following us shortly after we got to Tottenham.”
“Could hardly miss him,” said Pa. “He made more noise than a herd of elk. Running. Though dry brush.”
“So we figured he meant to make sure the job was done. And since we were doing the robbing we’d get the blame, even if he loosed the bolt.”
“Well,” said Doug, “you can see why Sheriff Willet might think we’d hold up a coach. Even though,” he added, “we’ve been respectable for nigh on a year now.”
“Fool girl,” Cal muttered.
“That part’s family business,” said Pa. “But the long and short of it was, when Master Rupert here was dead they’d let Tizza go.”
It seemed to me, as we rode happily through the deserted forest at their side, that they could still arrange that. I was pretty sure that thought had occurred to Cal, as well.
“Don’t fret yourselves,” Pa added. “He had to die in a robbery, before witnesses. Not get found lying on the road with a bolt through his corpus. Had to be a reason for it, and something that didn’t look like some mysterious fellow up and made him dead. But once we get Tizz back, I’d start being careful if I was you, young man, and that’s a fact.”
“I will.”
In truth, Rupert looked almost as worried as I felt. It was one thing to suspect someone wanted him dead — having it confirmed was downright depressing.
On the other hand, whoever it was clearly wanted his death to be known, as well as looking like an accident. If the chosen Heir vanished, the investigation would be every bit as intense as it would for a “suspicious” death.
“You say, ‘Once we get Tizz back,’” Kathy said. “Do you have some plan for that?”
“Yes,” said Cal.
“Well, it’s not exactly a plan,” said Doug. “We set Mam on their trail.”
“Dang fools,” said Pa, and even Cal nodded agreement.
“He figured he had all of us out trailing you, under his eye,” Doug explained. “So there’d be no one left to go find Tizz. But Mam’s the best tracker of the bunch of us. She was going after Tizza as soon as she was sure he’d gone. And she promised to leave a clear trail, so’s we can catch up easy.”
“If we need to,” said Pa calmly. “I didn’t marry a city girl. No offense,” he added to Kathy.
“None taken,” said my beloved. “I like a man who doesn’t think women are helpless ninnies.”
“I don’t think that,” I said. “But it’s not sensible to go running into a fight with well-armed bravos who outnumber you.”
“Like you did, back at the Addled Cock?”
At least the argument helped pass the time. We rode for the rest of the morning and into early afternoon before we reached our destination.
The Flintruckers had picked up our trail near Tottenham, they told us, and followed us for several days before we came up on a target they might plausibly have been tempted to rob.
Cal, in fact, went into some detail on the art of choosing a good mark, reminding me that the Flintruckers had only been respectable for a year, and I wondered why they’d changed. The difference between a bandit and a trapper is that a bandit only skins his prey metaphorically ... but I was pretty sure that in this case, there really wasn’t a difference.
At all events, by the time they’d been able to bring off the job we’d circled so far that we were relatively close to their starting point. This turned out to be a good thing; when we rode up to the cabin we found Mam and Tizz putting up packs, and on the point of setting off to find their men.
They came out to the porch when they heard our horses, Tizz running to hug her father, while her brothers threw their arms around the pair of them, exclaiming in astonishment.
But Pa simply cast his wife, who’d remained on the porch watching her family reunite, a look that held resignation, respect and amusement, in equal parts.
“Figured you’d do it,” he said. “Not even five armed men is a match for you.”
“Was only two of ’em, time I got there.”
Cal had gotten his ginger hair and lanky body from his mother, and Tizz had inherited the same build — but combined with her father’s black hair and dark eyes the effect was more that of lean wolf-girl than the weasel Cal resembled.
“Three of ’em sloped off after the first night.” Tizz was looking at Champion. “And if you’re Rupert...”
The Heir nodded jerkily, hope warring with fear in his pale face.
“...well, if you’re Rupert, Meg says to tell you she’s all right, and so’s the babe. Far as I can tell, that’s true,” Tizz added kindly. “She told me all about how she’d been kidnapped, and described the coach they’re taking her around in, and asked me to go to the law with it, if you didn’t happen by first. But we should go to the law anyway, shouldn’t we?”
“Fool girl,” Cal repeated.
The discussion was moving inside, and I saw that what had started as a simple trapper’s cabin had been built into a much larger house, as room after room was added to the original structure. A rather fine porcelain jug, touched with gilt, sat on the table, though the wildflowers in it were wilted. A couple of silver jugs rubbed shoulders with their common wooden fellows on the mantel, and a nice painting of a bowl of fruit hung on one wall, looking out of place between some buck’s dropped antlers and a pair of snow shoes that had been retired for the summer.
I could see why they might not want the law to come calling. Nevertheless...
“I think you should go to the sheriff,” I said.
If they sent the sheriff to look for the men who’d kidnapped Tizza, we might be able to get some help rescuing Meg as well. And if the kidnappers had already taken Meg out of this fief, we could use Sheriff Willett’s real writ to get cooperation from other sheriffs, instead of risking my forged one.
“Now why would we do that?” Cal’s voice was amused. “We got Tizz back, didn’t we?”
“Your mam got Tizz back,” his father said. “But the rest is about right. Why should we go to the law, Master Fisk?”
“And besides,” Kathy said. “Your daughter may be free, but Meg’s still in their hands — and has been for weeks! If we can get a writ from the sheriff...”
“That’s no business of ours,” said Cal, followed promptly by “Hey!” as his mother boxed his ear.
“These people were going to help us,” she said. “We’re beholden to them for the thought, even if they didn’t have to do the deed. Though from what Tizz says, your lady was taken away two days ago. She’ll likely be in another fief now, so even a sheriff’s writ won’t do you much good. You can’t track a carriage over dry roads, so there’s not much we can do for you. Or the law either, really.”
“You’re probably right,” I admitted. “Though you’d think the law would be good for something.”
The Liege Heir was listening to this conversation with unusual attention ... were we doing all future con men and criminals a disservice?
“Well, it isn’t,” Mam said. “Not across fief borders. But if your girl’s still in our woods, we’ll be glad to help you out.”
Pa and Doug nodded instantly, and after a moment so did Cal.
Unfortunately, I was pretty sure the kidnappers had moved on.
“Our thanks to you, for the thought,” I said. “But if they’ve got a two-day start, we’d better get...”
A torrent of barking erupted from the forest, and I looked out the window just in time to see the mutt run off before half a dozen men rode out of the trees. Their leather armor didn’t match and neither did their cloaks, but there was still something about them that proclaimed their calling — at least, to the experienced eye.
The law had arrived.
“That’s a good dog you got there,” Doug said.
“Ooooh!” said Tizz, though I’d have sworn none of the Flintruckers would ever make such a feminine sound. “It’s Davy!” She darted out the door, off the porch, and ran to the youngest of the deputies, calling, “Davy, I got myself kidnapped! But Mam came after me, and she caught one of them on his way to the jakes, and she cut off part of his ear and threatened to do the same with his balls if his friend didn’t let me go.”
I cast Mam a startled glance. Even having met her, I’d assumed that she crept through a window, untied her daughter, and they’d both sneaked out again.
She smiled. “Never did think that little fatty flap on the bottom was worth much. Only thing it does is hold an earring, and that’s a fact. No need for that, Cal.” Cal had thrown open a chest, and was pulling out a bow and quiver. “Like Master Fisk here says, we’re innocent.”
And Tizzabeth had removed any other option. Pa Flintrucker was already heading out to the porch.
“I was just about to come see you, Sheriff Willett. To report my daughter’s kidnapping.”
“That’s interesting,” said the sheriff blandly. “Because I’m here in response to a report that three men, who bear a remarkable resemblance to you and your sons, were robbing a coach just this morning.”
“But sir.” Tizz was clinging to the young deputy’s stirrup, so he probably felt he had to say something. “Mistress Abinger told us—”
“I know what she said,” his superior told him sharply. “I want to know what the Flintruckers have to say for themselves.”
“Well, the first thing,” Pa said, “is that if we’d been robbing coaches of our own free will, we’d have tied some cloth over our faces so’s you wouldn’t have that fine description! And you know ... that is, you know we’d never do such a thing, if we’d had a choice. He said his men would kill Tizzabeth if we didn’t do it, Willett. And that’s the truth.”
Willett shot Davy a critical look, but then he sighed.
“Since the conversations Mistress Abinger overheard seem to confirm that, I suppose I have to give you the benefit of the doubt. But why under two moons would someone kidnap your daughter to get you to rob a coach? Which you’d likely be willing to do anyway.”
One of the other deputies was staring, not at the confrontation on the porch, but at Champion, who was tied to the railing.
“Sir,” he said. “Doesn’t that look like the horse the Liege Heir’s supposed to be riding?”
The back of my neck prickled in sudden warning.
“Don’t be...” Then the sheriff took a good look at Champion. The flowing mane was shorn, the silvery coat dusty, the saddle plain and cheap. But under all that, the horse was magnificent.
“Where’d you come by this horse, Master Flintrucker?”
“He belongs to the fellow the men who kidnapped Tizza wanted us to kill,” Pa said. “Why do you ask?”
“Can’t say,” the sheriff said. “But I’d like to meet that man.”
“Don’t say anything,” I hissed to Rupert. “Cal, put that bow back. I can handle this.”
I stepped out onto the porch myself, with Rupert and Kathy following.
“Sheriff Willett, I presume? My name’s Fisk, and this is Mistress Sevenson, and her brother.”
Every man in the sheriff’s party stared at Rupert, who seemed embarrassed by the attention. After the rigors of these last few weeks he looked almost as ruffianly as Michael usually did, and not at all like a liege heir.
“So, sir.” The sheriff was watching Rupert too. “You’d be Master... Wait, Sevenson? Not Master Michael Sevenson?”
So much for any hope of passing him off as Michael — Rupert couldn’t answer questions about the Rose conspiracy for even a few minutes, without giving the game away.
“This is Master Benton Sevenson,” I said. “He’s, ah... He and his sister are traveling with me, in Michael’s absence.”
The sheriff looked at Champion, then at Rupert again.
“So why does someone want Benton Sevenson dead?”
“That’s personal,” I said smoothly. “Does it matter? Surely extorting an innocent family into trying to kill someone is enough to merit a warrant.”
The sheriff and I traded stares, but then his gaze flicked to Pa Flintrucker, and away again.
“Master Fisk, would you and Master Benton here go for a stroll with me?”
I could feel the Flintruckers’ interested eyes following us as we crossed the porch, and the sheriff dismounted. Kathy tagged along, and though the sheriff looked at her critically, he didn’t send her back.
“I don’t want to say too much in front of the Flintruckers,” he told us. “They’re... Well, they’re actually not good people, though they could be worse. They were worse, before Tizz set her mind on Davy, and I don’t want to see that change. If they found out... What under two moons is that?”
His hand came to rest on his sword hilt, which seemed to me to be an overreaction.
“That’s my dog,” I said. “Ignore him. You were saying...?”
The sheriff eyed the dog warily, but his hand slowly came off the hilt.
“What were we... Oh, the Flintruckers. That’s why I pulled you aside. This part’s private, mind you? You won’t speak of it, to anyone? Because if the Flintruckers found out how much the High Liege is offering for the Heir’s return, I can’t think of much they wouldn’t do.”
“Reward? How much... Wait, the Heir’s gone missing?”
It was a pretty good performance, if I say so myself. But the sheriff’s gaze was on Rupert, not me.
“That’s the confidential part, for reasons that should be obvious. Though with every sheriff and deputy in the Realm getting that writ... Why does someone want to kill Master Barton here?”
“It’s Benton,” I said. “And this is confidential too.” Because Benton would kill me if it got out. “He teaches at the university,” I said. “And he got one of his female students... Well, let
’s just say there was a reason the man her parents wanted her to marry called it off. Though trying to have Benton killed, that seems excessive to me.”
“I see.” The sheriff cast Rupert a disapproving glower ... but under that glower was suspicion.
“I mean to marry her!” Rupert’s blushing outrage would have been an even better performance than mine ... had he been acting. “I want to marry her, but Father...”
“Baron Sevenson also had other plans for his son,” I said. “Though at least he gave Benton a horse before he kicked him out. But since we’re traveling around the countryside, trying to find where the girl’s father has hidden her, we might notice ... oh, all manner of things. What is the reward for the missing Heir? You already told us he’s gone, so there can’t be much harm in passing that on.”
The sheriff hesitated a final moment, and sighed. “Some deputy’s bound to talk, and then the rumors will start... I expect everyone in the Realm will know inside a week. Which the Liege should have known, anyway.”
He did know it, and he must be pretty worried to make the news of Rupert’s disappearance public.
“So I might as well tell you,” the sheriff went on. “The reward for the Heir’s safe return is four thousand gold roundels.”
My first thought was that this was four times what he’d offered Michael and me. My second thought, following closely on the first, was that even half that sum would buy me a small estate, without help from Michael or anyone else.
So of course, the next thing the sheriff said was...
“I’d be happy to split that reward, fifty/fifty, with someone who could point out the Heir to me. All they’d have to do is assure me I had the right man. Because bringing the wrong man to the Liege, in the mood his messenger says he’s in ... well, it might prove fatal for more than a man’s career.”
And we had something to do with why the Liege was so frightened for his son, and so furious. He’d hired us to bring Rupert home, and we’d thrown in with his son instead. In fact, some of that fury was probably directed at us.