Agent of the Crown (47 page)

“The major’s strategy was to hold them off
with guns as long as possible, then have teams of two or three each
working to defend a section of the wall. We each—the regular
soldiers—were partnered with townspeople or the scruffy rejects
from Thorsten. No, that’s unfair. They stiffened right up when they
knew what we were facing. Their so-called captain, Jackson, he
turned out to be good at getting his men to fall in line. Jess,
would you mind getting me some water or something? I already feel
hoarse.”

He swallowed some water, then continued. “We
had plenty of time to test the new weaponry. Some of those
townspeople were naturals. Some of them weren’t going to be able to
do anything but distract the Ruskalder, but the major said she’d
take whatever she could get.

“We hauled stone from the quarry to blockade
the inside doors, the ones facing Thorsten Pass—the major cursed
about those too, said there was no reason for doors like that in a
fortress built for defense. That was something, anyway; we had no
shortage of raw materials to fortify the walls. Anyway, we piled
stone against the doors as high as we could manage, then we settled
in to wait for nightfall. Ate some of those rations the Baron had
stored. They were good, for rations.

“We saw the enemy before sunset. There’s a
sort of plain between the fort and the pass, and the earth mover
had cleared most of it, so they had an unobstructed path to the
fort and they took it. Remember, they had no idea the plan had
changed, so they didn’t even bother sneaking, or rushing the wall,
they just strolled up until they were in range, and we unloaded a
couple hundred balls and bullets into them.” He grinned a
bloodthirsty grin. “I know war’s not a good thing, mother, but
watching them run away shrieking made my heart warm.”

“My dear son, I rode to battle long before
you were born. I know the feeling. And I agree it’s not a good
thing and as your mother I forbid you to enjoy the heat of battle
ever again.” Her eyes twinkled at him.

“Anyway. That was the first advance. We
shouldn’t have been so triumphant, but it had been such an anxious
day, and we knew we were outnumbered, so we needed a victory. The
Ruskalder retreated through the mouth of the pass and stayed there
for a couple of hours.

“It got dark and cold. I tried to make
conversation with my team, but they weren’t interested in
talking—one of them was this big Thorsten soldier, didn’t look like
he thought about much beyond his next meal, and the other was that
friend of yours, Lainie, the one I shoved—”

The blood drained from her face. “Ben
Garrett,” she said in a quiet voice. Of course it would be him. He
was going to follow her around for the rest of her life—no, that
was the problem, he
wasn’t
going to follow her the rest of
her life, she’d just never be able to stop hearing about him.

“He wanted to pretend I didn’t exist. I’m not
sure if it’s because I hit him, or because I’m related to you, but
either way he wouldn’t talk. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but
I’m a chatty kind of fellow—”

“
We know,”
his family chorused. Jeffy
threw a pillow at Edward, the only one of his siblings taller than
he; Edward tossed it back.

“—and I thought about asking the major to put
me with a different team, you know, in case he wouldn’t be able to
take direction from me, but I thought that might look like I
couldn’t rally the troops, even if it was a troop of one. Best
decision I ever made, not asking for reassignment.”

He has to be alive. Jeffy would have said
right away if he’d been killed.
She couldn’t think of a way to
ask the question burning a hole in her stomach without revealing so
many things she didn’t want to share with anyone, even her family.
“Why was that?” she asked, casually, as if her heart wasn’t tangled
up in his answer.

“Let me tell the story, Lainie,” Jeffy said,
and she nearly leaped from her seat and throttled him right there.
“They came at us again around midnight. I don’t know why they
didn’t wait until morning. Anyway, they had torches and lanterns
they set up around the sides of the mountain as you come through
the pass, just outside our range. This time they had shields and
helmets, so we didn’t do as much damage, but we drove them off
again.

“And then we did it again, and once more.
They had so many men they could afford to waste them on wearing us
out. That last wave must have been after full dawn, and we were
sagging. Up until that point we hadn’t lost anyone, because the
Ruskalder didn’t have projectile weapons and each time we beat them
off before it came to a melee fight. The major had us rotate taking
naps, getting food, and she kept her best riflemen watching the
pass. There was a wind blowing through the pass, cleared away most
of the smoke from the black powder rifles, not that we had many of
those. Anyway, we had good visibility during the times between
waves.

“They saw movement in the mouth of the pass
but they didn’t realize what it was until they actually saw them
building the siege towers. The Ruskalder only had two, but I don’t
mind telling you I was terrified. All we could do was watch. Well,
all but the major.

“She had the townspeople run out to the
sawmill and bring back long, thick poles, and had us carve notches
in one end, for something to try to fend the towers off with. Had
’em do some shorter ones in case the Ruskalder had ladders and got
that close. We were sweating trying to get all that finished before
they came at us again.” He laughed. “Thing is, it took so long for
them to build their towers we were able to rest up and get our
second wind. If they’d kept on throwing wave after wave of men at
us, they’d have overwhelmed us by noon.

“So it was maybe three o’clock in the
afternoon when we saw the siege towers move. It was a crazy
strategy, because they had to haul all that wood up the pass, but
it was effective. They were on—” Jeffy shook his head. “The details
don’t matter. All that matters is the siege towers were slow, but
inexorable.

“We had the riflemen and anyone who was a
good shot taking aim at the ground soldiers, and the rest of us
armed with those long sticks or swords or whatever other melee
weapons came to hand. Garrett had a sledgehammer he swung around
like it didn’t weigh a thing. The Thorsten fellow and I had swords.
We were supposed to watch the wall and take care of anyone who got
past the stick-men.

“That first advance, though, nothing
happened. One of the siege towers got stuck, and the other one, the
stick-men were able to fend it off so they had to withdraw. But
they were back in half an hour and they’d fixed all their problems,
and that’s when it got bad.

“We lost maybe thirty people in that second
push and had another twenty seriously wounded because none of us
knew what to expect or where to focus our efforts. The Ruskalder
poured out of the siege towers and then, when those fellows had our
attention, more of them came up the walls. It was…carnage.” He
stopped, staring at something invisible and horrible. Then he shook
his head, as if waking himself.

“We—my team—held our ground well. None of the
Ruskalder who came up our section of the wall made it over the top.
That Garrett—” He shook his head again, this time in rueful
admiration. “I’d never seen anyone fight like that. All that anger
he—sorry, Lainie.”

“It’s all right,” she said. She clenched her
fists, driving her nails into the skin of her palm, trying to keep
her composure.
He’s not dead. It’s not true.

“Anyway, he had a lot of bottled-up rage,
that’s all I’m saying. Anyone he hit with that hammer stayed down,
particularly since being hit by it usually meant falling thirty or
more feet to the ground.”

“What about you, Jeffy? Did you kill
anyone?”

“Jessamy, hush.”

“I did,” Jeffy said, “and I’m not saying it
wasn’t necessary, but it’s not a memory I care to dwell on. Maybe
you’ll understand some day, Jess, but I hope you never do.” He
cleared his throat. “Where was I? Right. We lost a lot of
people—thirty doesn’t sound like much, but it was about fifteen
percent of our entire troop, and about fifteen of our injured
couldn’t fight anymore—but we pushed them back again. Literally,
because we got a couple of our sticks in the right place to topple
one of the towers, and that bought us more time.

“By then it was late afternoon and everyone
was flagging again. The major walked around, talked to everyone,
helped everyone find some more stamina. We ate again. Some people
napped. I tried to get Garrett to settle down, but he kept pacing
that little strip of wall we were defending. He’s the one who
shouted the warning. I looked over the wall and…there were so many
of them. They almost climbed over each other to get up the wall. My
team held its ground for a long time, but we were forced back.

“The Thorsten soldier fell first. Sword to
the—” He stopped himself. “Sword wound, pretty bad one. He fell off
the wall so we couldn’t even try to help him. Garrett and I were
back to back, and we were doing all right until one of them got
me—” He pointed at his shoulder.

“I dropped my sword and fell. It’s hazy after
that, but I remember Garrett standing over me, screaming like a
madman and swinging that oversized hammer of his. I found out later
he’d killed six men, right there. The next thing I remember he was
on the ground and blood was—I mean, one of those Ruskalder had
gotten in a lucky swing, nearly took his leg off at the hip. I was
half lying on him, trying to stop the bleeding, and I was calling
for help, and then the Canden garrison poured up the stairs and
over the wall, and it was all over.”

“You saved his life, though, didn’t you?”
asked Caitlin.

“Only because he saved mine first. There’s no
doubt I’d have been dead if not for him.” Jeffy looked at Telaine,
but she was certain her face showed no more than normal interest
and concern. Her clenched hand had gone numb. He was alive. He
hated her, but he was alive.

Jeffy drank some more water and cleared his
throat again. “There’s not much more to tell. The Ruskalder army
fled down the mountain. We took a few captives, among them the heir
to the Ruskald King, who’d been knocked unconscious and couldn’t
flee. The garrison had someone with some healing talent, saved the
direst cases. Saved Garrett’s leg, for one, though he won’t be
using it for a while. Minor injuries like mine have to heal on
their own.” He grimaced.

“And then Major Anselm assigned me to escort
the Baron to prison, probably because she knew my dear family would
be worried.” He stretched out his long legs and smiled. “You’re
going to give me special treatment because I’m wounded, right?”

“If by ‘special treatment’ you mean ‘waiting
on your every whim,’ then no, because the palace healer will come
to see you immediately,” said his mother, tousling his hair fondly.
“But we promise to be grateful to have you back. And now I think
you should rest. It’s easy to overexert yourself when you’re
recovering.” She stood and gave him her hand to help him rise.

“I won’t argue with that,” he said. “Ah,
Lainie? Could I talk to you for a minute? In
private
,
Jess.”

They walked a short way down the hall toward
Jeffy’s room. “I thought you should know,” he said. “At the end
there, before they sent me away, I talked to Garrett, you know,
trying to figure out how you thank someone for saving your life.
And I told him…I didn’t know what to say, Telaine. I don’t
understand why you were there or what you did while you were up
there, and I don’t know if you lied to them or not. I told him I
love you and I trust you and asked him if he didn’t think he could
forgive you for whatever it was.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I
think I made things worse.”

She put her arm around his waist. “Jeffy, I’m
never going to see him again. What he thinks of me doesn’t matter.
And I love you so much for trying. Now will you stop thinking any
of this is your fault? Go rest. Eat good food. Think of how all the
girls will want to see your battle scar.”

He poked her in the side, making her squeak.
“Think how close they’d have to be in order to see it.”

“I’m telling Aunt Imo you said that.”

She went back to her room to go through the
latest pile of invitations. A folded sheet of paper rested on the
mantel. She took it, realized it was two pages, and at the top of
the first sheet read:

Telaine held the papers tight against her
chest and, eyes closed, folded the paper into its original creases
so she wouldn’t accidentally see anything she couldn’t un-see. She
opened her eyes again. She couldn’t do this in this over-gilded
nightmare of a room.

She went to her bedroom and sat on her bed,
too soft, then on the chair by the window. That was too angular.
She went back to her bed and sat, cross-legged, the folded paper
squared neatly on the counterpane before her. Before her heart
could override her, her hands unfolded the paper and spread it
out.

The first page was for deaths. The second was
for serious injuries. Both pages bore far too many names. She
wasn’t sure how many men and women of Longbourne had gone to war,
but most of them had not come back unscathed.

She couldn’t delay any longer. She read down
the column of finely printed names.

Albie Hooper.
Mister Fuller’s
stockboy.

Meg Landry.
Longbourne’s baker.

Ed Decker.
Ben’s favorite baritone
singing partner and one of the first to be friendly to her.

And then, horribly,

Trey Bradford

Liam Richardson

She found herself crumpled on the floor
without knowing how she’d gotten there, sobbing so hard it felt as
if she were shaking apart.
Oh, Eleanor. Poor Blythe
. She
remembered Trey greeting her on her second night in Longbourne, his
joy the night of his wedding.