Agent of the Crown (15 page)

Miss Handly was at the bar, polishing
glasses. When she saw Telaine, she smiled. A big smile. No question
about it. “Miss Bricker!” she called out. “What can I get for
you?”

Telaine looked around. It was past
dinnertime, so the crowd had thinned out, but the few patrons there
met her eyes without flinching. A few of them smiled or raised
their glasses in welcome. “Excuse me?” she said to the barkeep.

“I said, what can I get for you? Beer?
Something to eat?”

“Beer,” Telaine said, mystified. Miss Handly
filled a large mug from the tap until it nearly foamed over and
slid it across the bar. Telaine took a longer drink than she’d
planned and successfully kept from choking to death on the pale
golden liquid. “Miss Handly?” she asked when she was able to speak.
“Is there something I should know about?” She waved the hand not
holding the glass to encompass the entire tap room.

Miss Handly’s smile vanished. “Happen we
weren’t all that kind to you,” she said, her voice low. “You got
people thinking and, well, they’re ashamed and trying to make it up
to you. So, that one’s on the house.”

“You mean, all I had to do to make you all
like me was yell and stomp around?”

“Saying the right words.” Miss Handly’s voice
lowered more. “We all thought you were here because you didn’t want
to make things right with your baby’s father, see?”

“Why would anyone do that? An entailed
adoption isn’t so hard. And I might have been fleeing an abusive
relationship. You all jumped to some nasty conclusions.”

Miss Handly reddened. “You know how rumors
are. Someone says the wrong thing, and it spreads and gets worse
from there. We shouldn’t have listened to the rumors, and even if
we did, we shouldn’t’ve taken it on ourselves to judge you like
that. So take it in the spirit it’s offered, and let bygones be
bygones, understand?”

“Don’t hang on to my grievances, you
mean?”

“If grievances means being entitled to be mad
’cause you got slandered, then yes.”

Telaine drained her glass and set it down on
the bar with a tap. “That is some good advice that I plan to take,
Miss Handly.”

Miss Handly took the glass and rinsed it,
polished it up again. “You’re going to keep coming in here, suppose
you should call me Maida. My regulars all do.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Telaine’s
mouth. “Then you should call me Lainie so I’ll feel welcome.” She
held out her hand. Maida took it, and smiled. “I ate up at the
manor, so—what’s wrong?”

Maida had gone pale. “Nobody goes to the
manor doesn’t have to,” she said. “Servants all live in. What were
you doing there?”

“Just repairing a Device. Maida, everyone’s
been telling me the Baron is dangerous. Why?”

“Nobody knows for certain sure, but there’s
always been talk. People gone missing, or livestock stolen, and
himself not being over quick to find the truth. Like yesterday
evening—Nev Sheldon left his parents’ house to go to his
grandmother’s and never arrived, but it was his village went
looking for him, not the Baron’s men. You watch yourself if you go
back there.”

“I will. Thanks for the warning.” She
wondered how many other people would feel the need to warn her. On
the one hand, it was nice to know they cared, but on the other,
she’d like to have a few more details beyond rumor—which, as Maida
had said, she shouldn’t listen to. People gone missing, huh? No
wonder going up to the manor was such a big deal. And they were
worried about the Baron, not just Morgan, who was certainly the
more obvious menace.

Garrett had just plunged something hot into
the quenching barrel when she approached the forge. He glanced up
the road behind her, frowning, then relaxed when he saw she was
alone. “I have not been eaten by the Baron,” Telaine said when he
opened his mouth. “I have not been poisoned by the Baron’s food. I
have been paid by the Baron and I may have repeat employment by
him.”

“Not something to laugh about,” Garrett said,
frowning. “Baron’s not best loved around here. And that Morgan is
the kind of fellow enjoys torturing animals. You might not be safe
with him.”

He’d come right up to the rail, and Telaine
came forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Thanks for being so
concerned. I mean it. And I’m going to take everything you say
about them seriously. But I also have to work.” His muscular
forearm tensed under her fingers, and she released him. “I won’t do
anything foolish,” she added.

“Happen just going up there is foolish,” he
said. “Heard about your song and dance in the tavern yesterday,” he
added, turning back to his work.

“My—oh. You mean my temper tantrum.” She
leaned against the rail and watched him pull a length of metal out
of the fire and flatten one end with a short-handled hammer. “It
was unexpectedly effective.”

“Funny how shame can make people think harder
on a thing.”
Plink, plink, plink.

“I didn’t mean to make anyone feel ashamed.
Well, no. I suppose I did. But I wasn’t trying to manipulate
anyone.”

“I know.” Garrett pushed the metal back into
the coals. “That gear’s done, if you want to take a look at
it.”

Telaine came around the rail and picked up
the gear, where it lay on a table with other bits of metal, mostly
scrap. “Do you have a rasp? A file?”

Garrett pointed at the back wall. “Take your
pick.”

Telaine chose one, leaned against the table,
and began shaving the rough edges down. “It’s a good match.” The
sound of the hammer began again. It was a soothing sound, and the
scrape of the rasp fell into rhythm with it.

“What’s it like?” Garrett asked.

“Fine. I’m taking off the burrs.”

“I mean the Baron’s manor.”

She lowered the rasp. “Fancy. Dark. Big.”
She’d been about to say “not too big” but remembered in time that
Lainie Bricker’s scale of comparison wasn’t like the Princess’s.
“It was depressing, all that space with just him and Morgan
rattling around inside.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for him.”

Telaine laughed. “You shouldn’t. He’s got his
Devices to keep him warm at night. I mean, not literally. Though he
might have a Device to keep him warm at night, too.”

“They make those?”

“Sure. Goes inside a mattress, or between
mattresses.”

A pause. “Can’t imagine having more than one
mattress on a bed.”

“Most beds don’t.” How she missed her bed,
with its two fluffy mattresses and four pillows and as many
blankets as she wanted. And someone to make it up for her in the
morning. Better not to think about it too much, and be disappointed
by the reality that awaited her in Aunt Weaver’s spare room.

“I wonder if you could work it into a blanket
instead,” she continued.
Plink, plink, plink.
Scrape,
scrape, scrape.
“Be a nice way to keep warm during the winter.”
She blew iron filings off the gear and held it up to the light.
“I’m going to put this in now,” she said, taking the rasp with
her.

Telaine only needed the spanner for this
stage of the repair. The gear slotted into its place and meshed
perfectly with its brothers. She screwed the case down tight, made
a few last twists with the spanner, and gingerly moved the handle a
fraction to the right. Water trickled out.

She continued to turn the handle, slowly,
feeling for misalignments inside the Device, but it turned smoothly
all the way. She ran her hand under the fixture; the water was hot,
but not enough to burn. With the right parts, that far-right
setting would produce boiling water, which was dangerous and
probably another reason they didn’t make them like this anymore.
Using the iron gear had been the best choice.

“It works,” Garrett said from the doorway.
She smiled and worked the handle back and forth quickly, still
feeling for any problems. He took the handle from her and moved it
back and forth himself, ran his fingers under the hot water at the
extreme right setting. “Nice to know I don’t have to shave with
cold water anymore,” he said.

“If you were shaving with
that
cold
water, I’m impressed. That had to have come all the way from a
frozen mountain spring.”

He flashed a smile, then ducked his head,
looking at the Device. “Thanks again,” he said. He seemed to be
looking for something else to say, but finally just nodded.
“Thanks.”

“Any time you need one of these antiques
fixed, you know where I live,” she said, and went out through the
forge and back to Aunt Weaver’s home. On that short journey, no
fewer than twelve people waved, ten smiled, and five called out her
name in greeting. She returned all their gestures in kind. She was
determined to take Maida’s advice and behave as if the last three
days hadn’t happened. As far as she was concerned, she’d be happy
for that to be true.

The smell of chicken soup met Telaine halfway
to the back door. In the kitchen, Aunt Weaver stood over the pot,
fishing out and shredding pieces of chicken meat. “Supper’s ready
in a few minutes,” she said.

“Thanks.” Telaine sat at the table and
stretched out her legs. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my
keep. The Baron paid me and—”

“Not takin’ money from you. You’re my
guest.”

“But you’re feeding me, and—”

“This ain’t a debate.”

“Is Uncle paying you at all?”

“It’s an exchange of favors. Don’t worry
about it.”

Telaine gave up. “Did you have a good
day?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Everyone’s decided to be nice to me now. I
never realized how effective a shouting tantrum could be.”

Aunt Weaver shrugged. “They’re good
people.”

And you inadvertently tricked them into
giving me a cold welcome.
“Do you have plans tonight?”

“
knitting circle.
”

Telaine raised an eyebrow at the echo. “I
thought that was last night.”

Aunt Weaver gave her a sharp glance that
Telaine once again felt she ought to recognize. “
sometimes it’s
two nights in a row.
”

“Oh? That must be…nice.” So where was Aunt
Weaver going, really?

Aunt Weaver ladled up a bowl of soup and
handed it to Telaine. “You any closer to finishing this job of
yours?”

“Getting into the manor was the first step.
So it’s a qualified ‘yes.’”

“Good.” She sat down opposite Telaine with
her own bowl. “Sooner you finish, the better.”

That hurt, though it was Telaine’s thought as
well. “I’m sorry to be such a burden,” she said stiffly.

There was the sharp-eyed glance again.
“Thought you was in a hurry,” Aunt Weaver said. “Happen you’re not
so much a burden as I thought.”

“Well…thanks.” Telaine ate the rest of her
supper in silence, then washed her bowl and set it in the drying
rack. “I don’t suppose I could come to knitting circle?” she said
off-handedly.

“
don’t think you’d feel welcome,
” Aunt
Weaver said, clearing away her own bowl. “And I thought I told you
not to meddle in these folks’ lives. No sense you making a place
for yourself here when you ain’t stayin’.”

“That makes sense.” So, Aunt Weaver was going
somewhere she definitely didn’t want Telaine tagging along. From a
woman who didn’t shy from airing her opinions, this counted as
strange.

Telaine nodded and said, “Good night, then,”
and went up the stairs into her room, leaving the door open a
crack. She heard Aunt Weaver ascend the stairs and go into her own
room, then the house was silent. Telaine waited. This wasn’t as
boring as the time she’d sat concealed in a cupboard, waiting to
eavesdrop on a meeting between two women that turned out to be
nothing more than a romantic tryst, but it was close.

The sun set, the room grew dark, and Aunt
Weaver’s door opened again. Telaine waited until she heard the
familiar slam of the back door, then hurried downstairs to follow.
It was probably nothing, but she was tired of being at a
disadvantage when it came to her occasionally hostile landlady.

Aunt Weaver was wrapped in a black cloak,
which was a mistake; pure black stood out at night in a way dark
gray or green didn’t. But then she probably didn’t expect to be
followed, judging by how she strode down the streets of Longbourne
and into the forest. Telaine kept a good distance, though she had
to shorten it when they entered the forest, which closed in around
her with unsettling rapidity.

The bright moonlight filtering through the
branches guided her steps, and the smell of pine and the soft
rolling feel of needles under her feet brought back memories she
hadn’t thought of in years.
Let your feet find the way
, her
father said in memory,
trust them when your eyes let you
down.
How young had she been? Five? And she’d walked right up
to a doe and laid her small hand on its warm flank, saw it look at
her with liquid brown eyes and then dart away, quick as summer
lightning. How different her life would have been if her father had
lived.

Telaine came to the edge of the forest and
stopped before walking out onto the downs. Aunt Weaver was already
a good way across the field. Telaine knew only two things about
Barony Steepridge: it was completely isolated during the winter,
and it was famous for the quality of its wool. This had to be one
of the sheep farms. The fields were wide open, with nowhere to
hide, and even Aunt Weaver, as preoccupied as she was, might turn
around and see her. She’d have to return to the house.

Grumbling to herself, she retraced her steps
with only slight hesitations. It seemed she hadn’t forgotten her
father’s training entirely.

Back in her room, she undressed, then lay
atop the blanket on the thin mattress. Whatever Aunt Weaver was
concealing was none of her business, but Telaine North Hunter
hadn’t lasted eight years as an agent by keeping her nose out of
other people’s affairs. Now that she’d made it past the Baron’s
door, she’d probably finish her assignment quickly, but if not,
discovering Aunt Weaver’s secret would make for an interesting way
to pass the time.