The Agent (8 page)

Garran finally called a stop and began setting up the small shelter just above the base of the Highland Range near dusk. Adam had no idea how to combine the two shelter halves to make a small tent, but he followed Garran’s lead as best he could. Once they had the tent pitched and a small fire going, Adam dropped to the ground near the warming flames stared into the sky.

“Did you mean what you said about your motive for helping me?”

Garran stared into the flames and shrugged. “More or less.”

Adam continued to connect the stars in his mind’s eye and nodded. “I can accept that. I don’t care why you are helping me as long as we destroy The Guild and rescue my sister. Nothing else matters. I will do whatever it takes and suffer any hardship to see it done.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“I know my sister, and I know she is fighting too, however she can. I just wish she did not have to do it alone.”

Garran watched the flames dance as he contemplated his response. “She’s not alone.”

Adam bolted upright into a sitting position and whipped his head around. “What?”

“She’s not alone. I have someone watching her. If things get bad, he’ll get her away if he can.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you, not yet anyway.”

Adam felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders, but the revelation created more questions that Garran would probably refuse to answer. “You said you were in the infirmary when you heard about my family’s murder. How did you have time to coordinate this and get to me before the assassins did? If you already knew, why didn’t you stop it?”

“I didn’t know, damn it!” Garran jumped to his feet and hurled a stick into the fire. “Do you think I jumped into this all on a whim? I fought to become an agent for the sole purpose of bringing down The Guild. I’m no patriot. I don’t give a damn about whose privileged ass sits on the throne. I spent years trying to gather information on what The Guild’s plans were and how they were going to do it, but I discovered next to nothing. I certainly did not have enough to present to your father so he could order arrests.”

“This is about your friends, the ones you said The Guild killed.”

Garran nodded, a scowl creasing his face. “They outsmarted me, but not until Gregor came to me that night did I understand how and what they were going to do—had done. I knew they threatened your family. Hell, your father knew that, but none of us knew how or when thanks to Gregor. I doubt more than half a dozen people within The Guild were privy to what they were planning, and I couldn’t get close to them. I planted my own spy within their ranks, but even he wasn’t able get more than half a whisper of their plans. I told you before that I always have a plan. The moment they killed your family and seized the throne, my spy enacted one of several contingencies I set in place.”

“Who is he?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“If he is close to Evelyn, if he is inside The Guild, he could kill Gordon!”

Garran shook his head. “Gordon is a puppet. If he dies, they will just find another. You need to understand what we face. The Guild cannot be killed by pricking it until it bleeds to death. It is too big and has too much blood for that to ever happen. The only way to defeat them is to destroy them in their entirety with a single, massive blow.”

“How do we deliver such a blow?”

“By trusting me and doing what I say.”

Garran picked up his bottle of whiskey and walked away into the darkness.

Adam sighed and shook his head. “Trust him he says. I’m not sure which of us is more insane; the lunatic or the idiot who follows him.”

CHAPTER 9

Garran and Adam trudged through the ankle-deep snow blanketing the lower passes. Although it was still bitterly cold, Adam continued to be grateful for the good boots and warm clothing they had procured at the work camp. Without which he surely would succumb to the cold unless Garran’s noxious tobacco twists did not choke him to death first.

“Why are we following this goat path instead of using the trade road?” Adam asked, his breath billowing plumes of fog with every word to compete with Garran’s fumes.

“I told you before, The Guild controls the roads now, and every soldier and Guild member from here to Urqua is looking for us.”

“I could use my magic to get us past them.”

“Do you have that much faith in it that you could fool everyone we come across?”

“No, I guess not,” Adam relented.

“I didn’t think so.”

“Can you at least tell me where we are going? I don’t think anyone is going to find us up here and force me to reveal your great, secret plan.”

“If you have the vaguest concept of geography then you should know where we’re going,” Garran replied.

“Arnao?”

“It appears you studied more than just useless scripture.”

“Scripture is far from useless. It teaches compassion and helps guide us to a fulfilling and meaningful life. It teaches us how to find strength from outside ourselves when we think we are too weak or exhausted to go on.”

“You know what I find outside of myself? People I want to either screw or punch in the throat.”

Adam glanced at his shuffling feet and mumbled, “I don’t want to know which one of those I am.”

“It varies by the hour.”

“I cannot imagine why it is you seem to have such a hard time making friends. You’re so open and personable.”

“I know, right?” Garran stopped, sniffed the air, and worked his jaw around as if to unplug a stuffed up ear.

Adam pulled up short and looked around. “What is it? Are we in danger?”

Garran threw his pack to the ground began pulling out its contents. “A witch’s squall is coming. Get your shelter half out. We only have a few minutes before the storm hits.”

Adam unshouldered his pack and set it down as he gazed up at the patchy altocumulus clouds. “It doesn’t look bad to me.”

“Remember what I said about trusting me?”

An ominous rumble punctuated Garran’s point, and Adam began unpacking the oiled canvas shelter. As he pulled out his half of the tent, shadows turned the pristine snow grey, and dark clouds with evil intent rolled over the tops of the peaks above of them.

Garran pointed to a large slab of stone poking up through the snow next to a rocky overhang. “We’ll set up over there.”

The two men grabbed up their gear and raced to the escarpment’s sheltering base. It only took a few minutes to erect the tent, but the wind cast coin-sized snowflakes down upon them even before the storm clouds completely blotted out the sky above.

Garran and Adam clamored inside just as the snowflakes grew to the size of a child’s palm. Fierce wind shook the tent and slammed the flakes into the canvas like a swarm of angry bees. Had they not been on the leeward side of the rocky bluff, the gusts would have likely uprooted the tent and flung it away, leaving the men to face the storm’s wrath unprotected. The tent had a canvas floor, but Garran spread one of the wool blankets out and lay atop it.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

“The rock is going to radiate the cold. We’ll stay warmer by insulating the floor and using your blanket to cover ourselves.”

Adam accepted Garran’s explanation with some reservation and spread his blanket out to cover them both. Garran pressed up close to him and draped an arm over his shoulder.

“Do you have to get so close?”

“We need to use our body heat to keep warm; otherwise we’re going to freeze to death. It’s perfectly natural,” Garran assured him.

Adam shifted uncomfortably. “I hope that’s your weapon handle jabbing me.”

“Perfectly natural,” Garran whispered sleepily.

“I swear to God, I better wake up with ever last bit of my virginity intact, or you won’t have to worry about trouser failure ever again.”

Garran responded by snoring loudly. Adam Stayed awake for hours. He feared leaving himself vulnerable, particularly when Garran began moaning a woman’s name in his sleep and pressed even closer. Also concerned that the falling snow would collapse their flimsy shelter, he frequently stabbed at the sides of the tent with a stick to knock the snow off before it could accumulate an unbearable weight.

He did not relax his vigil until the snow stopped falling and Garran resumed a more peaceful sleep. It was a battle he could not maintain forever, and exhaustion finally claimed its victory around midnight. Even then, restful sleep eluded him. Assassins stalked him through the monastery’s halls, and the faces of his family haunted him. He battled his nightmares throughout the night until movement inside the tent woke him.

Adam felt Garran’s back pressed against him. “What are you doing?”

“Honing my blade.”

“Why are doing that now—”

Adam flung the blanket away, scampered from the tent with great haste, and stood just outside. “That is repugnant!”

“No, it’s a euphemism.”

“Every time I think you could not possibly be more disgusting, you go and outdo yourself!” he raged. “Why in the hell are you masturbating?”

“Because you set some rather clear boundaries last night, boundaries I thought you would appreciate me respecting!” Garran shouted back. “Instead, you just yell and criticize me without a word of thanks for my consideration.”

“Thank you?” Adam asked incredulously.

“You’re welcome. Was that so hard?”

“I am not thanking you for not raping me in my sleep!”

Garran crawled from the tent. It’s not rape.”

“It most certainly is!”

Garran rolled his eyes. “Says who?”

“Says more than three hundred years of established law in seven of the nine kingdoms, you degenerate halfwit!”

Garran’s lips twisted into a crooked line. “Oh. Well, there has to be a loophole in that somewhere. There’s always a loophole.”

Adam tightened his hands on fists and held them at his sides. “There is no hole, loop or otherwise, else I am sure you would have raped it.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

“I am not being mean, I am being honest.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“My day of reckoning with the Almighty is going to be a lot more awkward than I thought. Wait, what if a man and a woman are both really drunk. They go up to a room and get into bed. Neither of them is sure who passed out first. Is it still rape?

“Of course it is.”

“But who’s the rapist?”

“You are.”

“Why?” Garran demanded.

“Because you are a man.”

Garran crossed his arms. “Well that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair! If it was, my family would not be dead and my future would not rely on an agent who is an alcoholic, drug-abusing, reprobate. He would be less of a scoundrel and more like—”

“Gregor? Yeah, he’s a real peach.”

“There are plenty of options between Gregor and a reprobate who feels the need to abuse himself while within the confines of a very cramped tent!”

“I have a medical condition that if not relived causes me a great deal of discomfort and makes marching through the snow all but unbearable!”

“You would not have that problem if you did not lace your rancid tobacco twists with rapture root.”

“Then I would have other problems that are harder to deal with. Okay, maybe not harder but certainly more difficult.”

Adam threw up his hands and stormed away. “I give up.”

“Wait! Which two?”

Adam stopped and turned around. “Which two what?”

“You said it was against the law in all but two of the kingdoms. Which two—you know—just so I know where I stand and can make sure I abide by the law?”

Adam glared, shook his head, and took several deep breaths in an effort to calm his mounting frustration.

A voice cut through the tense silence. “I hate to break up your little lovers’ spat, but you’re trespassing, and we don’t take kindly to trespassers.”

Garran and Adam turned toward the unexpected voice and saw an enormous man who appeared to be nearly the size of the bear whose skin he wore. The fur was stark white and still possessed the head, which the man wore as hood or helmet. He rested his hands on the pommel of an equally impressive two-hand sword, its tip buried in the two feet of snow yet still displaying a good, four feet of shining steel.

Adam inched closer to Garran who was making a show of keeping his hands away from his weapons. “Um, you said we?” Adam asked.

The man jerked his chin. A thin layer of snow bulged upward as several men emerged from beneath it. Two wore furs similar to the first man, and sheepskins bleached white covered four others. Each held large and lethal weapons in mittened hands.

“Almighty preserve us,” Adam whispered in quick prayer. “Can you fight them?”

Garran shrugged. “Sure, but doing so might result in a rather quick and inglorious end to our lives.”

“You are transcended. I thought this was what you were supposed to be made for?”

“I never said I was a good one. It’s kind of touchy, and I can’t always control it.”

“Why am I not surprised? Lack of control seems to be your specialty.”

“Criticism seems to be yours. Besides, it would ruin our diplomatic mission before it even started, so why don’t you shut up and let me do my job?”

Adam looked both surprised and doubtful. “You planned this?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I plan everything.”

The Hillman interrupted their banter. “What are you two scrawny flatlanders doing here?”

“Looking for you, actually,” Garran answered.

“Why would you be looking for us? I’ve got a wife and near fifty sheep. I’m too exhausted to take on a flatland fancy boy.”

Garran smiled as the Hillmen laughed. “We need to speak to your laird on a matter of diplomatic urgency.”

“Well, as warden leader, I can speak on Laird Melkior’s behalf and give you his official diplomatic response.” The Hillman turned his back on them, bent slightly at the waist, and loudly broke wind.

“I am glad I let you do the talking,” Adam said as he watched the band of men laugh uproariously. “These are truly your people.”

“I know, right? This guy’s a hoot. This might be easier than I thought.” Garran spoke to the warden leader once more. “Would Melkior and the rest of your clan be so quick to crap on the chance at reclaiming your ancestral lands?”

Their reaction to his words was not quite what Garran had expected. The Hillmen’s faces colored and scowled, and the warden leader plowed through the knee-deep snow. The man was even bigger and more terrifying up close. He reached out an arm as thick as Adam’s leg, grabbed Garran by the front of his coat, and lifted him off the ground.

“You done gone and ruined the good mood the fresh snow put me in by bringing up such a sensitive subject.”

Garran clasped his hands around the Hillman’s wrist and croaked, “This is the rightful King of Anatolia!”

The giant of a man looked at Adam and flung Garran several feet into the snow. “Well now, I might just make room for one more in my haram after all.”

Garran stood and brushed away the snow now covering most of his body. “Before you do, I think you should bring us to your laird. It would be a shame to sully the chance at reclaiming what is rightfully yours.”

The man looked between Adam and Garran and slowly nodded. “All right, but if this turns out to be a load of sheep dung, I’m going to sully a lot more than a diplomatic opportunity.”

“Fair enough.” Garran extended his hand. “Garran Holt, senior agent assigned to Prince Adam Altena.”

“Wait,” Adam said, “I’m not in a position to—”

“To explain himself to a bunch of soldiers like us,” Garran cut in. 

The Hillman’s enormous mitten engulfed Garran’s hand. “Albrekt, squad leader of this sheep-buggering band of wardens. All right, we’ll take you to say your words to Melkior, but don’t expect him to be as warm and welcoming as me.”

Adam turned to Garran as they began packing up their tent and supplies. “That was warm and welcoming? I nearly pissed myself when he hefted you like a child.”

“They didn’t kill us outright, which I half expected, so yeah, Albrekt seems to be a bit of a big softy.”

“Was dropping us in the laps of the people who hate us more than anyone alive part of your plan?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if you are insane or just full of crap.”

“Why can’t I be both? Is it some sort of insecurity that drives you to assume such limits in others?”

“I—I have no answer for that.”