by Adam Dreece
Silskin wiped his face nervously. “You don’t have the look of a man giving us the news we expected.”
The captain stood silent, allowing the regent to finish reading the letter.
She turned a burning glare on Silskin. “And you said he was broken! Broken! If he was so broken, then how did he convince them to give him a Trial by Royals? How?!”
“He was!” protested Silskin.
She threw the letter in his face.
Silskin read it, going ever more white. “They’ve… they’ve moved him to Relna, in Belnia. He’s out of our jurisdiction, your Highness. But they were supposed to strip him of his title, weren’t they? There hasn’t been one of these in… in centuries. Do they even have the right to request such a thing?”
“They do,” replied Caterina, her voice laced with distilled anger. She glanced at the captain who was standing, a bead of sweat hanging on his nose.
She stood up, seized his pistol and shot him, kicking his dead body down the stairs. She stared at Silskin’s panicked face. “Need I clean up all of your messes? I will not have my victory stolen from me, not when I am so close.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Unexpected
As Christina marched through the corridors with Angelina, she noted the looks of those she passed change from frustration to fear to bewilderment. “What’s going on? What’s so important that you need me?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” said Angelina, in her quick and dry manner.
With a nod, the portcullis opened, followed by the thick, wooden gate beyond it.
Christina wondered who the shadowed lone figure standing beside a horse was. He was wearing a long dark coat, and held his hands together in front of him. When the sun bounced off his monocle, she immediately knew. She turned to Angelina.
“I said you wouldn’t believe me,” said Angelina. Taking up her position and allowing Christina to approach Abeland by herself, she made eye contact with the hidden marksmen to ensure everyone was at the ready.
Christina scratched the side of her face as she approached Abeland. “Did we get put on a map, because you aren’t supposed to know about this place.”
Abeland gave one of his most charismatic smiles. He felt like his old self, dressed in his classic clothes, his lungs working properly, and taking a risk to get something he wanted. “Hi, Christina. It’s been a while.” He glanced around and lowered his voice, bringing her in closer. He wanted to ensure no one could hear what he was about to say. “There are a lot of things that I’m not supposed to know. But this,” he said, gesturing, “I’ve known about this place for quite a while. Actually, we put it on our map, though only my father, Richelle and I knew where it really was.”
Something clicked in Christina’s brain. “Bodear. You marked that it was in Bodear. That’s why it was bombed, wasn’t it?”
Abeland nodded.
“So, you have a mole,” said Christina. “That’s surprising.”
“Sometimes the people you know the longest are the people you can trust the least,” replied Abeland, with a less convincing smile.
“You look thin,” remarked Christina.
“I chose a bad vacation destination.”
“Tangears again?”
“Prison.”
Christina couldn’t help laughing. “Well, that is a bad choice.”
Abeland smiled warmly. “I left once I realized that the room service wasn’t simply late.”
Putting up a hand, Christina said, “Stop the charm offensive. Why are you here?”
He took a step forward, glancing about at the marksmen that stood out to him like trees on a grassy plain. “I’m not the only one with a problem in my organization. The difference is, I know mine, and he’s no longer a problem.”
She stared at the ground. She knew Abeland well enough to know that he wanted something in exchange. Studying his face, she could see that he wasn’t likely lying. As tricky as he was, he was still very much the young man she’d met, and trusted, long ago. “Are you sure?”
Abeland reached into one of his saddle bags and pulled out a metal canister. “Do you know what this is?”
“No,” she replied.
“Really? Huh. It’s used in a Neumatic Tube. It took us decades, but we built rivers of them all over. They allow us to send messages quickly. Brilliant design,” he said, unscrewing the lid and taking a few sheets of paper out. “Unfortunately, Caterina Maurice and her Fare have been using it, too. Well, not completely unfortunately. I wouldn’t have this to offer you if they hadn’t.” He handed the papers over.
She studied his face. “The only Caterina Maurice I know of is—”
“It’s her,” quipped Abeland.
“But that’s impossible.”
“Yes, well, we Piemans are terribly hard to kill. Apparently even just marrying into the family can bestow that ability. Turns out her sons are alive, as well.”
Christina saw the look in his eye. “So, Caterina is the Lady in Red?”
Abeland nodded.
“It’s not like you to give something without a price,” said Christina, uneasy.
Ignoring her statement, he continued, “I don’t know how many messages your mole sent, but this one was sent four days ago. It took me longer to get here than I had hoped, but I didn’t trust anyone else to come, and Richelle’s busy.”
“I thought Richelle was dead.”
Abeland smiled wryly.
“Piemans are terribly hard to kill,” said Christina shaking her head.
“You’ll see in those papers that the mole knows about the MCM engine, and helped sabotage your rocket pack experiment. They’ve been leading a small group of fellow traitors in tearing your organization apart.”
Christina let out a heavy sigh. “We haven’t found any evidence of that. I’d hoped it wasn’t just us crumbling.”
“You’re a good person, Christina. You always have been. Now, those papers don’t have the name of the traitor, just proof that they exist.”
“What good is that to me?”
“It’ll make it easier for you to understand why I want what I want, in exchange for the name of the traitor.” Abeland leaned in. “I propose a trade. The name of your traitor for an hour with the incomplete MCM engine. You can even have someone supervise, I don’t care. I just want to see it.”
Christina glanced back at Angelina, who would likely go ballistic over any deal. Then again… “That’s the deal?”
“That’s the deal. My father took a gamble on Klaus, sending him to Minette, hoping that he’d create a successor to the MCM, but he never did.”
A smile crept against Christina’s lips. She thought of the rocket-cart that they’d found, and pondered for a moment why Nikolas would have also invented the slow moving, horseless cart. She figured he must have known someone was spying on him. Glancing around at the landscape, she said, “You have a deal.”
Before she even needed to ask, Abeland took another piece of paper out of his pocket. “Once you have me set up in the room, I’ll give you the name of the lead traitor.”
Christina opened the door and stared uncomfortably at the giddy Abeland. Though flanked by two of her best, appropriately armed guards, Abeland looked like a little boy about to have cake. She could just hear Angelina’s arguments against doing this replay in her head. It had been a long walk to the lab, and it hadn’t helped that she’d been accosted by several people along the way. Apparently, things were boiling over from the meeting she’d been pulled out of.
Studying Abeland’s face, she thought back to the teenage boy she’d met long ago. Her father once again a prisoner, she’d been invited to stay in the Pieman’s home, which was extremely awkward. One morning, she and her father would be gone, and then months later they would return, against their will. She’d only recently learned that Marcus had traded, several times, to have them handed over after they’d been captured as abominators in other jurisdictions. The relationship was very co
mplex, to say the least.
“The room is ready. You can be here until sundown, and then you never return. If you’re late, they’ll kill you,” she said, smirking.
“Oh trust me, this place is nice, and everything, but I have somewhere to be. I particularly like the antique dust and mold, it’s a nice touch,” said Abeland, gazing about. He handed Christina the paper, but as she grabbed hold of it, he held fast. “I request that you let me enter the room first, and suggest you consider reading this where you have less people about.”
She nodded, and he let go.
“Gentlemen, let’s us go mine the past so that the future can be created, shall we?”
“Just get in there,” said the first guard.
Abeland stepped into the warmly lit room. “Well, no expense was spared, was it? I love what you’ve done with the place.” Apart from the lantern in each corner of the ten by ten room, there was only a stool and a beaten, worn table. On it was a piece of history; an open mercury-copper-magnetic engine. He didn’t even notice anything else. “Marvelous.”
“You talk a lot,” said the second guard.
“Well, Number Two—do you mind if I call you that? I’m sure you have a name, but here’s a secret; I’m truly not interested in it. If you don’t care for my antics, you’re welcome to leave.” He stared at the first guard. “You need a name too. I will call you Three.”
“But there’s two of us,” replied guard number two.
“Not my problem, now is it? Fine, I’ll call you One, as I fear you might lose your precious little minds otherwise,” said Abeland, feasting his eyes on the engine. “Now, I have some analysis to tend to.” He took off his gloves and emptied his coat pockets of some folded sheets of paper, a notebook and a pencil. Taking off the coat and folding it neatly, he looked about, a bit annoyed. “Um, may I have a chair for my coat?”
“Put it on the table, smart guy,” said Number One, pointing. He was older than the second guard by at least ten years.
After sweeping the dust away with his hand and glaring at the men, he put his coat down with an annoyed huff. He rolled up his sleeves, put his pocket-watch on the table and turned a dial on his monocle. Finally ready, he started examining the engine like a spider does its tangled prey.
For several minutes he jotted down notes, carefully moved pieces and pulled out fine tools from the spine of notebook until he reached out for something that wasn’t there. He stood up and looked about. “Um, where’s the tea?”
“There isn’t any,” said Number One.
Abeland shook his head in disbelief. “No tea? Are we in the middle of a barbarian wasteland? There must be tea. Would you be so kind as to fetch some? There’s no reason to be anything but civil. It’s not like I’m asking for the King’s-Horse.”
Number One nodded, and then said, “You better start shutting up.” He leaned on the hilt of his short-sword.
Abeland laughed. “Please. By the time you’d have that out, you’d be dead—twice. Along with your friend, here.”
“Who is this guy?” asked Number Two.
“Nobody,” replied the first guard.
Abeland laughed again. “Really? Is that why there are beads of sweat running down the side of your face?”
“It’s hot,” he retorted.
Number Two glanced at both of them, nervously.
“What One isn’t telling you, Two, is that he knows who I am. You know the guy with the glowing monocle who goes would go to the courts of kings and queens to get them to surrender their country, or forcefully takes it?”
“I’ve heard those stories, but they aren’t true,” replied the second guard.
Abeland clicked the wheel on his monocle, making it glow. “Why don’t you check with One?”
Number Two looked at his superior, who was staring at the floor. He confirmed everything with a nod and a look.
“Seriously? That’s the guy? Yig! Why didn’t we just shoot him when he got here?” asked Number Two.
“And how do you think that would have worked out?” asked the first.
“It’s a small room,” said Abeland, gesturing about. “Now, before I lose my temper and… I don’t know, maybe do something that befits my reputation, would you please be civilized and get me a cup of tea?”
“Why are we letting him see that thing?” asked Number Two.
“Because I’m trying to save the world,” replied Abeland.
“And why would you do that?”
Abeland chuckled. “Because it’s Tuesday, and that’s a very Tuesday thing to do.”
Guard number one grumbled, and then said, “Just get him the tea.”
Abeland leaned against the table. “This is what will happen if you go with that nervous twitching in your stomach, Two. You’ll first go for your pistol, then change your mind to your short sword because it’s close quarters and you’re worried having only one shot, you might miss. By that time, your friend will be dead, and I’ll have a pistol to your temple. I’ll likely say something witty, confusing you for a moment, and then I’ll say why couldn’t you have just gone out and gotten me a cup of tea?”
One nudged Two, who quickly left the room.
Abeland turned back to the table, focusing on it. “Is everyone in place, Reginald?”
“They are,” replied guard number one. “And to your hint about the King’s-Horse, you’ll take a walk over in a bit to make sure that you’re all clear.”
“Excellent,” replied Abeland, glancing at his pocket-watch. “Hmm.” He sifted through the some folded messages. “According to the traitor’s notes I kept, we only have a few hours before things will get decidedly noisy here. Until then, make sure I’m not disturbed, other than for tea. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have us stand outside, with the door closed.”
Abeland paused, thinking of Christina and what was about to happen. “One change of plan, actually. I need you, personally, to take care of someone when the time comes.”
“What does it say?” asked Angelina for the tenth time as Christina stormed away from the lab, the paper she got from Abeland crumpled angrily in her hand. Angelina grabbed her by the shoulder. “Talk to me, Chris.”
Christina’s eyes were filled with fury. “Canny’s brother! He’s the mole!” she yelled.
Angelina thought. “I don’t get it. Just calm down.”
Christina shook with anger. “Canny hadn’t seen his big brother since he was little, and the guy showed up six months ago, and immediately things started falling apart. I knew we shouldn’t have allowed him into the meetings. I knew we shouldn’t have skipped all our precautions to make sure we didn't have someone who could infect us. I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” Her eyes burned into Angelina’s as she thrust the paper into Angelina’s chest. She then marched off for the meeting room, her streaming pistol now firmly in hand.
Scanning the paper quickly, Angelina suddenly understood. “Yig, I should have seen this. All of this.”
Christina flipped up the dark wood barrel cover of her pistol, revealing a tightly wound coil. She put some pebbles in its chamber from one of her pouches and slapped it closed. “Where is he?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Signaling the End
Christina marched down the hallway, muttering. Angelina had rushed ahead and left her to deal with everyone who insisted on sharing a piece of their mind.
Angelina stood at the doorway, blocking her path. “You can’t go in there.”
She was about to push Angelina out of the way and then stopped. “Why’s it so quiet? And what… what’s that smell?”
“You can’t go in there,” repeated Angelina, tears in her eyes.
For a minute, they wrestled back and forth. Though Angelina was several inches shorter than Christina, she kept her leader at bay.
“Get out of my way,” commanded Christina.
“You need to calm down and listen,” insisted Angelina.
Christina didn’t have the energy to get an
gry. She noticed that what she thought was dirt on Angelina’s face and clothes wasn’t dirt. “Is that—?”
Angelina’s lip quivered. “There was an explosion. Canny’s brother… he…”
“He what?” asked Christina, her voice raising. “Tell me!”
“He set off a bomb. I’m told Canny noticed, and Remi—”
“No,” whispered Christina.
Angelina tried to continue, and then lost her grip.
“Remi!” said Christina, shoving Angelina aside and bursting into the gory room.
A red haired woman, wiping her tears, stepped away from Canny’s body. “Christina, you—”
Christina took in the scene and started shaking. She wanted to scream but lacked the voice. She inched over to Remi’s body.
Angelina steadied herself and said, “They jumped on him. We didn’t know until I rushed in. He saw the look in my eyes, and then… I was knocked back. I couldn’t save them.”
Mattias was in the corner, staring at the scene. “How did this happen? One minute we were laughing, and then Canny moved, and then… How?”
“Come on, Matt,” said the red haired woman. “Come on.”
Angelina gestured for the other people to get out.
“Somehow, no one got seriously injured who wasn’t killed,” said Angelina. “Sonya, Remi, Canny, Frederick… somehow, they saved the others.”
Christina was kneeling, sobbing. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” said Angelina, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
A flash of yellow appeared at the door, catching both of their eyes.
“Get her out of here… please,” said Christina.
“What happened?” asked Mounira, horrified.
Angelina walked over, spun Mounira around, and marched her off.
Christina’s sat there, staring at Remi’s broken body. She wanted to touch his face, to say goodbye, but it would make everything real, and she couldn’t have that.
“What happened? Is Christina okay?” asked Mounira. Angelina was silent as she forcefully marched her away.