The Agent (33 page)

Adam awoke to find Garran already up, or just as likely, having never gone to sleep. He could not fathom how anyone could operate on so little sleep regardless of the chemicals in their system.

“How’s our patient?” Garran asked when Adam emerged from the cabin and sat across from him near the small fire.

“He seems to be fine. We’ll see how he reacts when he wakes up sober and able to fully comprehend what we did to him.”

“He’ll be fine. He went into it with full disclosure.”

“It still doesn’t make it right.”

“Necessity and right rarely ride together.”

Adam looked at Garran and cocked his head. “Is that what it is for you—being an agent?”

“Most of the time.”

“How do you reconcile the things you have done out of necessity when in your heart you know it is wrong?”

Garran pulled his opium pipe from the pack next to him and lit it with a burning twig. “Superior emotional control honed through years of intense training.”

“Training…”

Garran leaned back against a log and smiled. “Years and years of it.”

Liam appeared from the cabin and sat next to Adam. “I see the lecher found breakfast. What about the rest of us?”

“There is tea brewing on the fire now,” Adam replied. “You can wait for me to boil water for some oats or eat some trail food.”

“I may have had to wear a dress, but at least I ate properly back in Bale,” Liam grumbled.

“You also had about a thirty percent chance of waking up wrapped in the arms of a hairy laborer with more fingers than teeth,” Garran retorted.

“And my chances now…?”

Garran shrugged. “Twenty percent, tops, but with a cumulative of one percent increase every day I don’t find a whorehouse. I figure that if we make good time, you will break even. Might even be a point or two in your favor.”

“I’ll break a stick off in your eye, you pervert.”

Friedrich shuffled out of the cabin looking exhausted and hung over but otherwise hale. He plopped onto the ground between Adam and Garran.

“How do you feel?” Adam asked.

“Like an express courier used my face as a saddle. How do I look?”

Garran retrieved a polished steel shaving mirror from his bag and handed it over. Friedrich gazed at his reflection, bobbing his head from side to side to verify that it was his image he saw.

“It is bizarre but not unflattering,” he said as he prodded his face with a finger.

“From this point on, you are Elroy,” Garran said. “You have to walk, talk, and act like him at all times, even with us. By the time we reach Merribourne, Friedrich must be well and truly dead. You have to be Elroy.”

“The last and greatest role of my life. I can do it.”

“Let’s work on your voice first. It needs to be softer and higher and sound almost as though you are talking in your sleep.”

Friedrich recited some improvisational lines as Garran expertly guided him through pitch, tone, and cadence.

“Good,” Garran said. “Remember, you are obsessed with fashion and expect only the best things in life. You have a snarky comment about everything, and everyone is beneath you.”

“Yeah, make everyone you meet want to kick you in the nuts,” Liam chimed in, “and walk as if you are trying to hold in a fart with a look on your face like you failed.”

“Ah yes, I know the type well,” Friedrich replied. He poured a cup of tea from the kettle, sipped it with an extended pinky, and grimaced. “Is this chamomile, or did Garran wash his balls in it?”

“Perfect!” Garran handed him a book about half an inch thick. “Study this every chance you get.”

“What is it?”

“It is everything I know about Artemisia’s history, particularly pertaining to the royal family.”

Adam took the book from Friedrich and skimmed over the pages. “Garran, this is incredible. When did you have the time to do this?”

“I did it while you girls were resting your ovaries. What did you think I was doing all night?”

Adam and Liam answered at the same time. “Getting drunk.” “Masturbating.”

“I guess it’s a good thing God gifted me with ambidexterity.”

“I can’t believe you actually have this great a store of knowledge in your head,” Adam said.

“I am a master of my craft—as I continually remind you. My mind is like a library when it comes to geopolitical knowledge.”

“I always imagined it as more of a privy,” Liam said.

“Keep being a smartass and I’ll use one of your boots as a privy.”

“Your breath smells like someone has been using your mouth as a privy.”

“Yeah, well…shut up.”

“Oh, good burn. I guess we found the limits of that library. It’s more like a shelf half-filled with books with small words in large print and drawings of naked women and farm animals.”

Garran reached for one of his reaping blades.

Adam leaned over and grabbed his arm. “Remember, you are a master of emotional control.”

Garran dropped the weapon and picked up his pipe as he glared at Liam. “There isn’t enough opium in the world.”

CHAPTER 34

Adam peered through the darkness at the bobbing light of a lantern as a stablehand checked the paddock for the night. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Our horses are exhausted, and we are behind schedule,” Garran argued once again. “The next town is another day’s ride and away from our direction of travel.”

“We are behind schedule because we spent two days running from a farmer and his posse because of you.”

“How was that my fault?”

“You asked if you could work a three-way with his wife and daughter!”

“How was I supposed to know that was a sensitive subject? It’s only because of your constant nanny nagging that I even asked!”

“We already stole horses from this courier station on the way up here. It is beyond stupid to do it again on the way back!”

“Which is precisely why it is a brilliant idea. Only an idiot would return to the scene of a crime, and The Guild knows I am not an idiot, so they will never expect it.”

“You really don’t have a clue about how people perceive you, do you?”

“Obviously they think I am a brilliant agent full of roguish charm.”

“You have the emotional depth perception of a one-eyed, sociopathic chicken.”

“Will you both shut up before they hear us?” Liam whispered, his voice growling.

Garran’s eyes sought out Liam in the waxing darkness. “A: There is no one out here to hear us as they are all inside getting drunk and playing cards, as all couriers do. B: there’s like four couriers in there. I could beat them all into submission with a stick of salami even without transcending, so shut up.” A whooshing sound cut through the air. “So stop shushing m—”

The brainer struck Garran in the side of the head with a spray of clay shards and lead shot. He staggered from the blow but managed to pull his reaping blades as a chorus of shouts erupted from the woods and dark figures rushed them seemingly from all sides.

Garran slashed drunkenly at the form that materialized in front of him, but the man contemptuously slapped the haphazard strike aside with his sword. Garran’s eyes focused just enough to bring Victor’s smiling face into view.

“Stupid move, Holt.” Victor’s fist, gripping the hilt of his sword, collided with Garran’s jaw and dropped him to the ground.

“Agent Law, what do you want us to do with these two?” asked one of the soldiers holding Liam and Friedrich at sword point.

Victor strode over to the pair. “Who the hell are you?”

Friedrich stood straight and tugged and the hem of his shirt. “I am Prince Elroy Sinclair, and this is my valet, Peter. Seeing as how Mr. Holt is no longer able to deliver me to my beloved sister, I insist that you now fulfill his duty.”

The soldier cocked his arm back, ready to thrust. “Want me to kill him?”

Friedrich gasped. “Don’t you dare! I refuse to die in the woods without a proper royal funeral, and I positively cannot be buried in these awful clothes. To die under such conditions would certainly leave my spirit in a state of unrest, and I will return to haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“Hold,” Victor ordered. “We have to catch a ship in Merribourne anyway. Your Highness, my men and I will see you safely to the city.” He motioned to his men who produced several sets of shackles. “But since I cannot immediately corroborate your identity, and I have no idea of your relationship with Garran Holt or Prince Adam, I will need to restrain you and your valet for everyone’s safety.”

“This is intolerable!”

“It is pragmatic.”

“And if I refuse to be trussed up like a criminal?”

“Then I will leave your corpse to rot in the woods, and you can haunt the squirrels and deer for as long as you like.”

Friedrich held out his arms with his fingers pointed toward the ground. “Fine, but my sister will hear of this.”

“I am certain she will understand.”

Adam looked on in silence until someone came near bearing a set of shackles. “You!”

Karla smiled as she clamped the irons around his wrists. “Hello, handsome. We should really stop meeting like this.”

“I thought you had learned your lesson the last time?”

“I did. I learned not to act against Garran by myself. Now let’s not have you use any of your god-touched powers, otherwise I will have to keep you sedated all the way to Leva.”

Victor had them all locked in one of the vacant stalls and set a guard of four men. Garran came to, looked around the stall, and tugged at the chain securing him to an iron ring set in the wall.

“I surmise that something went wrong?”

“Of course something went wrong!” Adam snapped. “Something always goes wrong when you are so damned sure of yourself and your stupid plans!”

“How is this my fault?”

“How…because I told you so! I told you it was stupid and too risky to take horses from the courier station—again!”

“Maybe you’re right. Who got us?”

“Victor.”

“I was hoping that was a concussion-induced delusion.”

“Karla helped him.”

“Now that just hurts my feelings. I’m rarely wrong about women.”

“Now what are we going to do?” Adam asked.

Garran shrugged. “Sit tight, wait, and hope something happens to our benefit.”

“That is not a plan!”

“It’s my plan.”

“We need to escape.”

“You need to escape. I need to numb this throbbing pain in my head.” Garran searched his pockets but found them empty. “Where the hell is my booze? Where’s my opium? Where’s my goddam rapture root?”

Adam crossed his arms with smug smile. “Victor took them.”

Garran’s eyes went wide with panic. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

***

Garran and his group rode shackled and surrounded by Victor’s squad. Garran and Adam also had the extra precaution of having a rope tied about their waists and secured to the saddle of a guard riding behind them. Any attempt at making a break for it would only result in their being torn from the saddle and deposited quite abruptly and painfully onto the ground.

Garran looked over and found Karla watching him with a smirk on her face. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“There’s a twist. It’s usually the woman who says that to you.”

“I recall leaving you in a sweat and gasping for breath on our last tumble.”

“You also left me with a rash that took the better part of a month to clear up.”

Garran smiled and winked. “I am the gift that keeps on giving.”

“You’re more like the gift everyone wants to give back.”

Victor chortled from his position at the front of the party. Garran reached up and plucked a pair of pinecones from a low-hanging branch. His shackles had just enough slack for him to fling a pinecone and strike Victor in the back of his head.

“What are you laughing at, toady?”

“Like every woman you ever met, I’m laughing at you.”

Garran hurled another pinecone with unerring accuracy. “Give me back my stuff.”

“If you’re talking about your alcohol and drugs, forget it. This is but one of many tortures I will enjoy watching you endure over the coming days.” Victor turned in his saddle to face Garran. “And if you hit me with another pinecone, I’ll break your damned fingers.”

The pinecone, already in flight, hit Victor between the eyes. “Oops.”

Victor wheeled his horse about and drew his sword. “Pick a finger.”

Garran extended his middle finger. “I’m pretty fond of this one; although in equal contention is his twin brother.”

Victor reached out with his free hand in an attempt to grab Garran’s wrist. “Give me your hand!”

Garran pulled back and guided his mount away. “No! Is this your way of asking for a handy? Give me back my stuff and we can work something out.”

Victor glared at his compatriots who failed to stifle their laughter. He grabbed the rope attached to Garran’s waist and gave it a jerk, pulling him from the saddle. Garran struck the ground hard and lost his air. He gasped and tried to blink away the stars exploding before his eyes.

Victor loomed over Garran. “You nearly bested me back in Cimmaron, and I’m almost proud of you for that. I made the mistake of ignoring Adam’s talent. I won’t do that again, so don’t test me.”

“You already made another mistake by not killing me last night. Every minute I’m alive is one more opportunity for me to get a second chance.”

“Gordon wants you dead, not me. Not right away anyway. He’s still a bit sore with you.”

“I bet he is.”

Victor shook his head and grinned. “But he is letting his anger lose sight of the bigger picture.”

“If it’s a picture of your mother it must be enormous,” Garran said as he struggled to his feet.

Victor’s sword flashed and smacked Garran on the top of the head with the flat of his blade. Garran crumpled back to the ground with a cry.

“Are you trying to give me brain damage?”

“That ship sailed long ago. I’m pretty sure it can only improve matters at this point.”

Garran got back to his feet and climbed into the saddle. “Still, didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to hit, or was her mouth too full of food and dicks?”

Victor squeezed the hilt of his sword before slamming it home in its sheath. “The big picture is that there are elements within Leva who refuse to recognize Gordon and The Guild’s authority. I think you are at the heart of the resistance. Gregor is retiring shortly after I return you and Adam to the capital, and I will take his place. That makes the rabble-rousers my job. You are going to identify them for me so I can clean it up quickly.”

“Garran will never give up his people!” Adam insisted.

“No, he’s right,” Garran replied. “I don’t have the loyalty or the stomach to withstand torture.”

“You would betray everyone who is helping you?”

“I’ve witnessed and even participated in a few tortures in my career. Everyone breaks eventually, and I just don’t see the purpose of putting myself through that kind of pain when the results are a forgone conclusion. It’s just stupid.”

“I never took you for being such a coward.”

“Says the man who has never been tortured.”

“And you have?”

“I’ve been tortured every day since rescuing you.”

“
You
are tortured by
my
presence?”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment!”

“Are you sure?”

***

“Garran, we’ve nearly reached Merribourne. When are you going to do something to get us out of this?”

“You’re the god-touched. Why don’t you use your magic to turn these chains into pasta, or at least pop the damn lock?”

Adam inclined his head toward one of the guards sitting not far away. “That bald one never takes his eyes off me. I think he is a sensitive.”

“Maybe he just fancies you. You should work that angle and find out.”

“I am not working any angle!”

“I’m sorry. I meant work that dangle.”

“I know what you meant! I am not going to risk being brained like you were. You’re supposed to be this great agent, so do something great!” Adam noted a figure coming toward them out of the darkness, their form silhouetted from the blazing fire in the middle of the camp. “Quiet, someone is coming.”

“You be quiet. You’re the one doing all of the whining—again.”

“I’m not whining I’m terrified!”

“I understand. Some people feel the need to vocalize their fear.”

“Exactly.”

“The psychological profilers have a name for that in the Diplomatic Corps. They called it whining.”

“What do they call being ass?” Adam grumbled.

“Upper management.”

The shadowy figure resolved into Karla as she drew near. “Are you boys playing nice?”

Garran tugged at the chains securing his manacles to the shackles on his feet. “I’m trying to since these chains make it rather difficult for me to play with myself.”

“But not impossible,” Adam growled.

Karla laughed and shook her head. “Same old Garran.” She dropped a key near Garran’s hand. “It’s happening tonight. We have some friends who should be in position around the camp, but you will have to deal with Victor. If you can’t neutralize him, we are all dead.”

“You’re helping us?” Adam asked. “Why?”

Karla sighed. “I’ve decided to play the long odds.”

Garran smiled. “Not for the first time either.”

“You are far more odd than long.”

Adam quipped, “It looks like a thumb doesn’t it?”

“It does! One that got slammed in a door.”

“Or hit with a hammer.”

“Exactly!”

“You know…” Garran intoned dejectedly.