She went back into the scriptorium and surveyed that room again. The idea of moving the Library had taken hold of her mind now to the point that she was disinclined to bring any more books up for cataloguing. Besides, the scribes had enough to do already. Face it, Alison, you’re bored, she thought, and went over to the librarians’ desk to see what Henry was doing. Shuffling lists. Boring.
The scriptorium door opened and a page entered. Finally, something interesting. The girl came straight to Alison and handed her a folded note. Alison opened it and read its brief contents. The blood drained from her face. She shoved the note at Henry, said, “Stay here, and don’t let anyone leave.” To the page, she said, “Take me there. Quickly.”
The page interpreted “quickly” just as Alison had intended, which was a flat-out run through the halls of the palace. Alison had to work to keep up with the girl, despite all the exercise she’d gotten hauling books up and down stairs, and her legs hurt and there was a stitch in her side by the time they reached the infirmary.
She had expected a room full of beds, but instead she found some kind of waiting room, with a man at a desk and two doors on either side of it. She leaned against the desk and panted, “Trevers Stofford. Where is he?”
“Who are you?”
“His employer. Someone sent me a note that he’d been badly hurt.”
“Wait here.” He went through one of the doors. Alison paced. The man didn’t return. She paced some more. Finally she cursed and flung open the door the man had gone through. It led directly into a well-lit room full of beds, about half of them occupied. A woman wearing a doctor’s tunic stood next to one of the beds, consulting with the man from the desk and a woman wearing a nurse’s smock. The nurse saw Alison and came to meet her. “You can’t be in here,” she said, taking Alison by the arm and attempting to lead her out of the room. Alison resisted.
“I’m here to see Trevers Stofford,” she said. “Someone sent me a message, therefore someone wants me here. Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The apprentice who was beaten nearly to death.”
“He’s not able to receive visitors. He’s asleep.”
“Then will someone explain what happened?”
“Are you related to him?”
“No, I’m his employer.”
“We should really speak to his parents first.”
“He doesn’t have parents. He’s a singleton with no remaining family bonds. I’m the closest thing to family he has.”
The nurse glanced back at the other two, who weren’t paying attention to them. “Come with me,” she said, and again took Alison’s arm. This time Alison allowed herself to be pulled away.
The woman led her into what looked like a treatment room. “Trevers was beaten badly,” she said in a low voice. “He managed to make it to the palace and was babbling something about the Royal Library before he fell unconscious. I don’t know how he made it here. His left leg is broken in two places and he has three cracked ribs, just to name a few of his injuries. One of the other nurses must have sent word to you. You’re sure he has no other family?” Alison nodded. “Too bad. Sometimes the presence of a family member strengthens that bond enough to ease pain.”
“Is he asleep, or unconscious?”
“Dr. Wyatt put him into a narcotic sleep. We’ve sent for Dr. Trevellian.” The nurse hesitated. “He’d better get here soon.”
Alison’s eyes filled with tears. “Please let me at least stand by him. I swear I won’t be disruptive. He’s in my care. I don’t want him to be alone even if he doesn’t know I’m here.” And I’m positive this wouldn’t have happened to him if he weren’t working for me.
The woman bit her lip. “Let me ask,” she said, making a gesture for Alison to wait there, but after the woman left Alison pushed open the door and stood just inside. She watched the nurse speak to the doctor, who shook her head, saw the woman become more vehement and point in Alison’s direction. Alison clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. Finally, the doctor shrugged and nodded, and the nurse gestured to Alison to join them.
Despite what the nurse had said, Alison wasn’t prepared for Trevers’ condition. His hair was matted with blood, he had bruises all over his face and a cut on his chin that hadn’t completely clotted. His arms lay atop the blanket he was covered with, and his right hand was swollen painfully. Alison could only imagine what lay beneath the blanket. She closed her fists so tightly her nails cut into her palms. “Who would beat a child like this?”
She meant what kind of person could do this, but the doctor said, “He looks pretty well-to-do in that uniform. Might have been attacked and then beaten when they found out he didn’t have anything on him.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe someone’s sent me another message. Bastards.
“Excuse me, please—well, good morning, Countess!” Dr. Trevellian gave her a brilliant smile. “I’m glad to see you well. Now, if you’d all move back and let me take a look at this young man. In fact, could I ask you to leave the room? Myrna, give me a hand here.”
Thus dismissed, Alison, the doctor, and the other assistant retreated to the waiting room. “Doctor, is there anything else you can tell me about the attack?” Alison asked.
“I only know what I observed when the boy was brought in,” she said. “He was adamant we get word to you so you’d know why he was late.”
Alison choked on a sob. Trust Trevers to care more about his job than the fact that he’d been beaten nearly to death. She pushed the door open a crack and peeked out. Dr. Trevellian didn’t appear to be doing anything, but she could personally testify to his capabilities.
“Marcus and I have work to do,” the doctor said, “but you can wait here if you like.” They left the room and Alison sat, rocking back and forth in impatience. If Trevers died…no, better not think like that. Gowan was going to pay for this. She wasn’t sure how, but she would make him pay. Could she hire thugs to go after him? Well, she had the money, so yes—if she knew where to find thugs for hire, which she didn’t. How dare he involve a child? She now knew exactly what kind of man he was—a vicious, amoral bastard who would do anything to get what he wanted.
She stopped rocking and stood to pace again. If Gowan had moved on from vandalism to assault, everyone associated with the Library was at risk. If she resigned, the attacks would stop. But she couldn’t give in to him, and not just for personal reasons. Giving the Magistrix control over the Library meant giving the Scholia one more hook into the government of Tremontane. On the other hand, could she ask Henry and the apprentices and all those scribes to risk violence and possible death for the sake of a principle?
Myrna pushed the door open. “Dr. Trevellian wants to speak with you.”
Alison met the doctor halfway across the room. “I haven’t woken him yet,” Dr. Trevellian said in a low voice. “What do you know about what happened?”
“Nothing but what the doctor and Myrna told me, that he’d been set upon and managed to reach the palace before collapsing.”
“Whoever beat him knew his work well,” the doctor said. “It was no random mugging. All those blows were calculated to leave him alive but crippled. They just didn’t account for how small he is. Does the boy have any enemies? Because I have to tell you this looks personal.”
“Would you be willing to testify to all that?”
“Of course, but you’d need an independent witness to testify to the extent of his injuries before I got to him. Why, do you know who attacked him?”
“No. Just a suspicion. It might not matter.” If Gowan was good, he’d have hired people who couldn’t be traced to him. Maybe Trevers had seen something, but she wasn’t counting on it.
“Will you wake him now?” she said.
“Come with me.”
Trevers looked a thousand times better. The swelling in his hand had disappeared, the cut on his chin was gone, and his bruises were nothing more than faint shadows under his dark skin. Dr. Trevellian brushed the bo
y’s hair away and laid the tip of his index finger in the center of his forehead. Trevers twitched, then his eyes opened as if he were waking from a normal sleep. “Milady,” he said, “Am I late?
“Just a little,” Alison said, blinking back tears. “I think you can be excused this once.”
He smiled, then looked confused. “I don’t remember why I was late. Why am I in bed?”
Alison’s heart sank. “You don’t remember being attacked?”
Trevers shook his head and winced a little. “I went out this morning to have my shirt mended and then I came back, and I was just past the bakery on Oloron Road, and then I was here.”
So much for pinning this on Gowan. “Don’t worry about it,” she said soothingly, seeing that he was becoming agitated. “You were attacked, and you made it to the palace, and Dr. Trevellian fixed you up.”
Trevers looked at the doctor, his eyes wide. “Dr. Trevellian for me?” he said, awed. “Was it that bad?”
Alison looked at Dr. Trevellian for guidance in what to say. The doctor said, “It was pretty bad, bad enough it’s just as well you don’t remember it. Don’t worry about it. You’re fine now.”
“Did I break any pens? Only I remember breaking pens and throwing them at Mister Catherton.”
“Hallucination,” Alison told him. “It happened to me when the doctor cured me of pneumonia. Just an hallucination.”
Trevers’ face cleared. “I was worried you might fire me because of the pens.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Who would keep Declan and Gwendolen in line? Doctor, is he ready to leave?”
“You know how it works, Countess,” Dr. Trevellian said. “Plenty of rest, preferably bed rest for a day, no hard labor for a while though it sounds like he’s got a nice quiet job. Will you take charge of him?”
“I will. Thank you, doctor.”
“My pleasure.” He made as if to ruffle Trevers’ hair, saw the matted blood and thought better of it. “I think a bath is in order.” He nodded to both of them, took a few steps, then turned around. “I’m sorry for how things turned out for you, Countess,” he said, compassion filling his eyes. Alison went teary-eyed again. She nodded her thanks, unable to speak, and watched him leave the room.
“Did something bad happen to you, milady?” Trevers said, sitting up.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” she told him, blotting at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let’s get you back to the apprentices’ hall and have someone draw you a bath.”
She arranged for Trevers’ care for the next few days, gave him strict instructions about staying in bed and not fretting over missing work, then went back to the Library. Free of concern for Trevers’ health, she went back to being furious. Gowan’s goons had beat a thirteen-year-old boy nearly to death and she had no way to prove it. She had no way of stopping him from trying it again. And she’d be damned if she was going to give in to his harassment.
She found she’d passed the turn for the Library and was heading for Zara’s offices. Yes, Zara needed to know. But Henry—how long had she been gone? Henry had to be climbing the walls by now. She turned around and went back. Henry first, then the Queen.
Henry wasn’t climbing the walls, but he was pacing the aisle and he pounced on her when she entered. “Is he all right?” he said in a low voice. She led him into the Library and shut the door, and described the state Trevers had been in when she first saw him. Henry clenched his fists.
“We can’t do anything about it,” he said. “Damn it, we’re completely helpless against Gowan. I wish we could get Margaret to keep him in check. This can’t be what she had in mind.”
“I’m going to talk to the Queen. She might be able to see a way we can protect ourselves.” Alison wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m almost glad Trevers doesn’t remember anything. I can’t stop thinking about how he looked, lying there—”
“You’re not blaming yourself, are you?”
“Shouldn’t I? That message was meant for me.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s Gowan’s fault, not yours, Alison. Don’t think like that.”
She looked up at him. He was very close. His dark eyes had that serious look again. Before she could think, her hand slid around his neck and she pulled him toward her only to find he’d anticipated her. Their lips met, and this time Alison appreciated as she hadn’t before the softness of his lips, the brush of his beard against her skin. She felt him smile just before he put his arm around her waist and drew her closer to him, his kiss growing more intense until Alison felt a little overwhelmed and stepped away. He looked a little uncertain, so she smiled, laid her hand on his cheek and said, “I wasn’t planning on that when I dragged you in here.”
“This time it was the right moment, wasn’t it? Not just the stress of being under attack?”
“It was the right moment.” She removed her hand and leaned on the rail. “I still don’t know where this is going.”
“Neither do I,” Henry said, “but we have plenty of time to find out. It’s not like I’ll be leaving any time soon.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” They looked at each other in silence for a while, until Alison said, “I almost forgot. I have to see Zara.”
“You should go. But—once more, perhaps?”
Alison smiled and stepped back into the circle of his arms. “Definitely once more.”
In the hallway, halfway to the Queen’s offices, Alison stopped and shook her head, violently, to clear her thoughts. What had she just done? She and Henry had to work together. What if this…whatever it was…got in the way of that? Or worse, if…whatever it was…went sour, what were they going to do? She still didn’t know if she cared for him as more than a friend, or if, despite what she’d said, she’d only kissed him because she needed comfort. Father, I don’t know if your idea about me making a connection was such a good one.
She reached the north wing and headed for Zara’s office, only to be stopped by a sharp “You can’t go in there, milady Countess, her Majesty is in a meeting.”
Alison came back to the desk. “This is important,” she told the receptionist, who shook his head.
“So is her meeting,” he said. “You can wait here.”
“But this really shouldn’t wait.”
“Sorry, milady Countess. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
Alison leaned on the desk. “Could you take a message to her? Please?”
The receptionist looked wary. “I shouldn’t—”
“Just a message.” Alison took a piece of paper and scribbled a short note on it, then handed it to the man. The receptionist sighed, went down the short hallway to Zara’s office, knocked, and was admitted. He came back immediately and took his seat. “Now will you just wait?” he said.
“Thank you, I will—”
Men and women began emerging from Zara’s office. They sounded as if they weren’t quite finished with what they’d been discussing, carrying the conversation trailing along after them. “Alison,” Zara said, “inside. Now.”
Alison shut the door behind her. Zara sat at her desk with her letter opener in her hand, tapping it on the desktop. Anthony sat nearby, a notepad on his lap and a self-inking pen in his hand. “Explain,” Zara said, picking up Alison’s note and waving it at her. Alison told the story, becoming angrier as she went until she was pacing in a tight circle in front of the desk.
“And there’s nothing I can do about it,” she spat, “because I have no proof. Gowan’s going to keep trying until he makes me resign, and since I’m not going to do that, a lot of people could get hurt, and I know he’s counting on me caring about that. And I don’t know what to do.”
Zara glanced at Anthony, then looked back at Alison. “We’ll house the scribes in the palace for now,” she said. “No more going out alone. We’ll set someone to watch Gowan, discreetly. And you will have a personal bodyguard.”
Alison protested, “I told you—”
“This is not up for debate,” Za
ra shouted, startling Alison. “Someone is targeting the Library and it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you. Did it not occur to you that if you were dead, Gowan’s problem would be solved? Setting aside the tremendous personal loss that would be, I have no other candidate for your position. I would be forced to accept whomever the Scholia chose, and that would mean putting the man who killed you in charge of the Library. No part of that situation is acceptable to me. You will accept a bodyguard and you will go everywhere with him or her. Have I made myself clear?”
Alison looked at Anthony, who was even stiffer and more serious than usual. “Yes, your Majesty,” she said meekly.
“Good. Anthony, please escort the Countess to Major Casson’s post and explain the situation. Alison, Major Casson will assign you a guard and you are not to return to the Library until he has. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Good day.”
Alison left the office, still stunned, and Anthony shut the door behind them. “You’ve never heard her shout before,” he said. It was not a question. Alison shook her head. The receptionist stared at her as she walked past, making Alison wonder if the man had heard the Queen shout as well. “She’s on edge,” Anthony added, unnecessarily as far as Alison was concerned. He went silent until they were out of the offices and into less-trafficked hallways, when he said, under his breath, “The Magistrix has suborned the Baron of Highton. Made promises to increase the number of Masters working in that county, which means increased trade because the Scholia’s reputation is what it is. Gowan’s attacks force her to split her attention, and she’s uncertain how much support she still has in the Council, so she’s short-tempered and not interested in arguing with people if she can make them do what she wants instead.”
“Anthony, should I just resign? Wouldn’t that make everything easier?”
He stopped and swung around to face her. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “Don’t even think it. It would demoralize her more than you can imagine. She took a risk, appointing you, and if you resign it will mean that risk was for nothing. She will do whatever she can to protect the Library, and you need to repay her by not giving up.”
Servant of the Crown (The Crown of Tremontane Book 1) Page 30