by VM Sapone
On the way back to Hilfords, the rain stopped long enough to let the sun show itself. Arrival at the front entry was marked by more pleasant spring weather. Heavy clouds drifted away, to the west while the rain turned to drizzle and then to nothing.
Torvik was silent on the ride back. He shuffled and read the papers he took from the carriage. Gerdie stared out the window at the passing scenery. Van took a nap and Ezren sat wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.
When they arrived at Hilfords, Ezren exited the cab to ascend the front steps. The sound of another carriage coming into the drive made him turn. Ezren didn’t recognize the big contraption. Two horses pulled steadily as the driver reined them to a halt at the turnabout. A door opened revealing a crest in the shape of a shield with a river, a tree, wheat and sheep.
Van approached the carriage like he recognized the thing.
A man exited, stepping down onto the gravel. He looked a little like Van with black hair, blue eyes and a narrow frame. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of Van and he opened his arms, rushing the scholar and pulling him into a hug.
“What are the odds you’re the first face I see when I get here?” the man exclaimed.
Van grunted and returned the embrace. “Good to see you, Uncle Lestrik,” he squeaked.
Ezren walked forward to meet Lestrik Vale. Behind him, Gerdie squealed.
The girl launched herself toward Vale as a middle-aged couple exited the carriage. “Mom!” she shouted. “Papa!” The girl’s parents stepped out on the driveway.
“Ez,” Van said, turning around. “I’d like you to meet my uncle. This is Lestrik Vale.”
Lestrik extended a hand to Ezren. “I hear you’re something like a brother to poor Van. He’s an only child, you know. Good thing he’s got you.”
“Not sure he’s as excited about that,” Ezren quipped. “Nice to meet you, Mister Vale.”
“Please, please,” said Vale, shaking his head. “Call me Lestrik.”
Another man exited the carriage. He was tall, with blond hair and a rapier hanging from his hip. The man wore a leather jerkin and riding breeches with tall boots. He looked like some kind of light-infantry pikeman.
One of the large double doors to the Main Hall opened. Harvey stood atop the stairs. What little hair he had left flopped in the breeze. He was impeccably dressed in black and white, all stiff collars and buttons with perfectly shined shoes. The steward stood aside and waited for everyone to enter.
Gerdie and her parents walked in behind Ezren and Van. Torvik walked with Lestrik Vale. Vale’s man and the two drivers from his carriage came in last. Both drivers were dressed like the blond one: leather jerkin, sword, boots and snug, black breeches. One was tall and wiry while the other was short and thick.
Ezren heard Torvik talking to Vale in hushed tones. “My men are bringing the carriage here. Should arrive by late afternoon.”
“I didn’t just come to bring Gerdie’s parents,” Vale said. “There are two other girls missing from Overhill. This black carriage has been spotted before. I think there’s a connection. Where ever that carriage was headed might be where those girls are found.”
Torvik removed his flat cap and ran a hand through is greying hair. “That adds a complication to the plan. We’ll have to discuss it more, later.”
Inside, Hilfords was a flurry of activity. Scholars still departing came and went through the corridors, carrying bags and wheeling trunks this way and that. Masters were hustling about trying to get their things in order before departing for Grey Hills. Harvey and his team of maids and butlers moved furniture and cleaned everywhere. All this activity kicked up a lot of winter dust.
Harvey led them all to the big dining hall. Torvik whispered something to the steward about horses and stables. Harvey nodded and was off.
Gerdie’s parents expressed their gratitude at finding their daughter safe. The couple were dressed like farm workers. Gerdie’s mother wore a simple blue smock and her father wore long breeches, boots and a threadbare linen shirt. Both looked at Hilfords much the same way Gerdie did when she arrived. The place was some kind of marvel. A castle, maybe. Some leftover fortress from the Velgrian Border Wars.
A small feast was brought up from the kitchens. Everyone ate, sitting at one of the long tables in the cavernous dining hall. Torvik said very little and Lestrik’s men said nothing at all. Ezren guessed they didn’t want to discuss the sensitive information of an ongoing investigation in front of Gerdie and her folks. The girl’s parents had a lot of questions, but Vale quelled their curiosities by saying he’d fill them in later, when he returned to Overhill.
Harvey stepped back into the hall and bent to whisper in Torvik’s ear.
The Captain had his horse swapped for a fresh one from Hilfords’ stables. He instructed his driver to take Gerdie and her parents back to Overhill. They’d reach the town just after nightfall if they left right away. Gerdie and her parents were amenable to that.
The girl had given them all the information she could.
The poor thing was taken in the darkness and only knew what little she saw. Now they’d seen the same: a black carriage, foreign men, a stock of powder and opium, weapons, and detailed ledgers. The papers and items that Torvik collected from the carriage in the forest was far more helpful than anything Gerdie could tell them.
The meal was over and it was time to get down to business.
Ezren dreaded the coming discussion. He knew Torvik wanted them to help out. He also knew Van wouldn’t want to get involved any more than he already was. But Ezren understood one thing about Van that maybe the scholar didn’t even know about himself—he was a sucker for sorting out puzzles.
Once Gerdie and her parents were off, Ezren and Van led everyone else to Greyelm.
Vale’s men came along. The big one was called Fallard. The short one was Del and the lanky one was Hyburn. Apparently they worked for Vale and filled assorted roles as the boss man saw fit.
Inside Greyelm, they filed into the library, walking straight to the back work table.
Gordon stepped through, lighting candles from a taper, then leaving as quietly as he entered.
Torvik laid out the papers and ledgers he’d taken from the carriage.
Danfy came and went, not wanting to get in the way, which wasn’t like Danfy at all. “Staying out of this one,” the mage said, walking to the corridor.
Too many strangers for him, Ezren thought.
Fallard, Del and Hyburn looked around the finely appointed library.
“Who’s the kid?” Fallard asked, watching Danfy walk the corridor to the rear stair.
Van barked a laugh. “That’s Mage Danfy. He’s a hundred and thirty-six years old.”
They sat at a long, rectangular table. Orange later afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows facing Hilfords and the wide campus.
“Right here,” Torvik said, pointing at a map. “This is the townhouse they’re using. We can’t get in since they recognize all the guards. It’s being run by locals but there are a fair amount of foreigners seen coming and going. No one has seen any girls, but some of the patrons we’ve hauled in for questioning report girls inside. Young girls. Sound like they could be the ones missing from Overhill.”
Vale sat back in his chair and sighed. “I can’t go back to town without those girls. How do we keep them safe during all this?”
“Have to get them out before anything else happens,” Torvik said. “That’s where your men come in…and these two,” he said, pointing at Ezren and Van.
Ezren saw his shock mirrored in Van’s face. “You mean with planning?”
“Nope. You’re going in,” Torvik announced. “You and these three.” He pointed at Fallard, Del, and Hyburn.
Fire and Whisky