Agent of the Crown (41 page)

She set off up the street toward the forge,
though she guessed Ben wouldn’t start the fire today. The sun had
melted the snow enough the day before that it had frozen overnight
into a thin crust that crunched pleasantly under her boots. She
bent down to rearrange her throwing knife, which had slipped
slightly and was pressing against the knob of her ankle. She and
Ben could go for a walk, and maybe they could have a throwing
contest. A walk, and dinner at the tavern…she was going to make
herself relax if it took all day.

When she stood up, she saw movement in the
distance, a mass of people moving toward Longbourne from the fort.
Some of them were mounted. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s
glare. Those people were marching. Soldiers.

Dread crept over Telaine, and she ducked out
of sight behind the general store, as far as she could get with the
mass of snow blocking the space between it and its neighbor.
Soldiers coming into Longbourne had to be bad.

From her hiding place, she couldn’t see
anything but people stopping what they were doing and turning to
face the soldiers. She heard feet, and hooves, breaking through the
crust, and the jingle of harnesses, then she heard a voice that
sent an icy spear through her heart. “We’re here for Lainie
Bricker.”

Morgan.

How was he here? Unless—Thorsten Pass was
clear. No. Impossible. He had to have found another way back.
Rapidly she went over her sabotage in her head—
no
, sweet
heaven, if they’d worked out it was only overheating, there was all
that snow—

Morgan’s lazy voice said, “Where is Lainie
Bricker?”

Silence. The people she could see were
glancing at each other, their faces impassive. Either no one had
seen her, or the good people of Longbourne weren’t going to hand
one of their own off to a psychopath.

Then she heard a gunshot, and some screams.
The Baron said, in his smoothest voice, “The next shot will go
through a person instead of that hideous gazebo unless I see Miss
Bricker here in front of me in five seconds.”

Telaine instantly moved out of concealment,
walking forward until she was next to the gazebo, behind the Baron.
“Right here, milord.”

The Baron turned his head at the sound of her
voice, then jigged his horse around to face her. He held a sleek
pistol Device aloft in one hand and there was no expression on his
face. “Miss Bricker. I believe you’ve taken something that belongs
to me.”

He’d found out about Sarah. She thought of
Mistress Wilson and ice filled her stomach. “I don’t think it was
yours in the first place,” she said, trying to match his
conversational tone.

He dismounted and came toward her. Behind
him, Morgan did the same, his feline smile fixed on her and his
eyes fondling her body. She kept her attention on the Baron.

“Miss Bricker,” he said, “I am the lord of
this Barony and what I decide is mine will not be disputed. And I
refuse to allow my sovereignty to be challenged by a Deviser with
no rank and no power.” In an lower voice, he said, “You will not be
allowed to take your story down the mountain. I will not waste my
time refuting your scurrilous accusations.”

“Your behavior says you’re worried you’ll
have to.”

The Baron leveled his gun at Telaine. She
held his gaze and tried not to flinch. “I won’t ask for my property
back,” he said in a more normal voice. “I’ll take you instead.
Morgan will be happy to pay you a great deal of attention. I’m sure
I’ll enjoy watching.”

Out of the corner of her eye Telaine saw
movement. “No!” she screamed, but it was too late. Ben lowered his
head and charged at Morgan, who stepped aside and casually punched
him in the jaw. Ben staggered, and Morgan caught him in a chokehold
and eyed him as if puzzled by the attack. Then he caught Telaine’s
eye.

She didn’t have time to conceal her horror,
her fear for Ben, and for a moment, Morgan looked confused. He
glanced again at Ben, then back at Telaine, and she knew the
instant he figured it out because his eyes widened with fury.

His arm tightened savagely around Ben’s neck,
making him arch his back and gasp for air.
“Stop it!”
Telaine screamed, and took several running steps toward them. Then
Morgan’s usual lazy, sinister expression was back. He kicked Ben’s
knee, making him drop hard to the ground, and released his
chokehold to wrench Ben’s arm up high behind his back.

Ben coughed and hacked and tried to jerk away
from Morgan’s grip. In the next instant Morgan had his knife at
Ben’s throat, and Ben went perfectly still. “
submit, and i won’t
hurt him
,” he said with a laugh that had no mirth in it.

Telaine turned away and dropped to one knee
in front of the Baron, cold gravel digging into her leg. “I’ll go
with you if you leave the townspeople alone,” she said quietly, her
throat closing up. She looked once more at Morgan and saw him turn
the blade so the edge rested across the vein. He knew. And he would
kill Ben no matter what she promised him.

“Please, make him stop, milord,” she added,
her hand drifting to her boot. If she did nothing, Ben would die.
If she missed, Ben would die. She had one chance.
Dear heaven,
if I only hit one thing in my life, let it be this target.
She
kept her eyes locked on Morgan’s, pleading with him as her fingers
gripped the hilt of her knife. Then in one movement she pulled it
out and flung it with a smooth overarm motion.

She knew as it left her fingers that it would
fly true. Morgan had only just registered what she’d done when her
knife entered his eye and drove all the way to the hilt. His one
good eye blinked at her, uncomprehending, and he slumped to the
ground, the knife falling from his lax fingers. Shocked, Ben raised
his hand and touched his neck; his fingers came away bloody from a
shallow, long cut.

Telaine couldn’t stop looking at Morgan,
certain he was playing one final game with her and at any moment he
would stand and stab Ben through the heart. She felt numb, so numb
that when the Baron grabbed her by the collar and dragged her to
her feet, she couldn’t resist.

“A murderer as well as a thief,” he shouted.
“So do I charge you, Lainie Bricker. You will be taken to the fort
and held pending trial.”

He shoved her into the waiting arms of
Captain Jackson, who as usual acted as if he didn’t care if she
lived or died. Telaine came to her senses and tried to break away,
but he restrained her as easily as if she’d been a recalcitrant
kitten.

Ben shouted and lunged in their direction,
but was grabbed by Liam just before the Baron’s shot would have
gone through his head. “Anyone who attempts to help the prisoner
will be tried as an accomplice,” the Baron said. He mounted his
horse and stared coldly at the assembled crowd, which had grown
quite large. “Captain?”

Telaine gave up struggling against Jackson’s
grip. She absolutely could not let him confine her. “Everybody
listen!” she shouted. “The Baron is the one who took—”

The Baron, who had begun to ride away, turned
back and leveled his gun at her. “Bind her,” he said in his most
vicious voice, cutting across her words, “and gag her. I believe we
will have an execution right here. Right now.”

Telaine opened her mouth to shout again and
Jackson’s thick arm went across her mouth. Ben screamed. “Be
silent,” the Baron said, “or I will silence you myself.” Someone
grabbed her hands and bound them roughly behind her back, and a
none-too-clean handkerchief replaced the captain’s grimy, scratchy
wool sleeve. She fought back, and the captain kicked her feet out
from under her and dragged her to the base of the gazebo, wrenching
her bound arms painfully above her shoulders.

This is not how I pictured this
ending,
she thought with unnatural calm.

The Baron again dismounted and walked toward
her. She knelt up and glared at him. He would not see her fear.

He pointed the pistol at her, one of the ones
from his collection,
I repaired that one, isn’t that funny?
and said in a quiet voice, “I did enjoy your company. A pity I’m
forced to kill you.” She continued to glare, but wondered,
Should I close my eyes? What’s the etiquette for being murdered
by a torturer and a traitor?
She kept her eyes open even as she
heard the shot. But—that wasn’t the Baron’s gun, it was too far
away…

The Baron looked away, the barrel of his gun
pointing up. Telaine threw herself at his legs and knocked him
sprawling, heard him curse. Someone landed on him; someone else
kicked the gun away; a third person yanked the gag out of her mouth
and untied her hands.

Ben pulled her to her feet and enveloped her
in his arms, squeezing tightly, putting his body between her and
anyone else. She looked up and saw wet trails streaking his face.
She laid her head against his chest, feeling his heart pounding as
fast as hers was, trying to control her breathing.
I guess I
don’t have to come to terms with my life after all.

A confused murmur filled the air, growing
louder as the seconds passed. “Let go of me!” the Baron shouted,
struggling in Liam’s massive arms. Captain Jackson fought Jack for
possession of the Baron’s gun. And the soldiers, directionless and
without orders, brought their gun Devices to bear on the citizens
of Longbourne.

Before the soldiers could fire their weapons,
another gunshot tore across the clamor. “What is going on here?” a
woman’s voice exclaimed. Telaine turned around; Ben kept a loose,
protective grip on her shoulders. A double file of mounted
soldiers, properly dressed and outfitted and looking altogether
professional, rode into the town center. Their leader, a fine-boned
woman with graying chestnut hair and a major’s insignia on her
sleeve, held a recently fired pistol Device in the air.

She cast her eye over the gathering and
focused on the Baron, who was far better dressed than anyone else.
“Who are you?”

The Baron shoved Liam, who had him pinned to
the ground, away and got to his feet, brushing snow off himself. “I
am Hugh Harstow, Baron of Steepridge, and I am grateful for your
arrival, major,” he said smoothly. “The people of this town
attempted to rebel against my sovereignty, and you can see my men
and I are outnumbered. These—” he pointed at Ben, and Telaine, and
Jack and Liam—“are the ringleaders. I demand you take them in
charge preparatory to trial.”

“He was going to kill an innocent person!”
Liam declared.

“Hardly innocent. A murderer.” The Baron
indicated Morgan’s dead, abandoned body, its eye still sporting its
grotesque ornament.

“The Baron—” Ben began, but the major
silenced him with a wave.

“I can see this will take some time to sort
out. I’ll have to ask all of those concerned to come with me to the
fort.”

Panic rose in Telaine’s chest. This would
take too long. If Morgan
had
come over the pass with the
earth mover, the Ruskalder army could not be far behind. But there
was nothing she could do, unless she could get the major alone—but
would the major even listen to her?

“Telaine?
Telaine!
”

At first she didn’t recognize her own name.
Then, to her dismay, she saw a soldier near the head of the column
leap from his horse and run toward her. He was tall, with short
black hair and a face she’d known all her life. “Jeffy,” she said
under her breath. What was her cousin Jeffy doing here?

“Your Highness! Lieutenant North! Return to
your position!”

Jeffy ignored the major and barreled down on
Telaine. He shoved Ben and sent him sprawling. “Get your hands off
my cousin,” he growled. “Telaine, what are you doing here? And
dressed like a commoner?”

“Cousin? Telaine?” Ben said, staring up at
Telaine in confusion.

“What are you saying, Lieutenant?” The major
turned her horse and walked back toward them.

“Major, I insist you take these four in
charge at once!” the Baron said.

“I thought you were recovering from lung
fever,” Jeffy said. “Julia’s been sick with worry, Telaine, how
could you do this to her?”

“Lainie, what’s he talking about?” Ben
said.

Telaine looked at Ben, then at Jeffy. The
major said, “Milord Baron, who killed this man?” and as the Baron
opened his mouth to reply, Telaine saw a vision of the future as
clearly as if she were there. She saw this argument and confusion
growing to encompass all of Longbourne until the Ruskalder came
down that road and slaughtered everyone. And there was only one way
she could stop that future from happening.

She looked at Ben again, still sprawled on
the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said.

She stepped away from Ben and Jeffy into a
relatively clear space. “Major!” she shouted, cutting over whatever
the Baron was saying and causing the major to turn. Her hands were
shaking. She took a deep breath. “Major, my name is Telaine North
Hunter,” she said, so there would be no mistake. “And I am an agent
of the Crown.”

Everyone went silent. Even the horses stopped
moving, as if they knew the magnitude of what she’d done.

“Hugh Harstow, I charge you with high treason
against the Crown,” she went on. “I charge you with conspiring with
the King of the Ruskalder to allow them passage through your Barony
into Tremontane. I charge you with the murder of Edmund Clarke and
of gross negligence in failing to maintain the kingdom’s defenses.
I charge you with the torture of seven children of your Barony and
with being an accomplice in their kidnapping and murder, and with
the kidnapping of another girl. And I charge you with the attempted
murder of a member of the royal family and an agent of the Crown.”
The litany had made her hands stop shaking. The Baron’s
white-lipped fear gave her great satisfaction.

“You are not—” the Baron said. His voice
shook. “You cannot possibly be—”