Tremble in the Dark: A Gwen Farris Novel (12 page)

As
the little white Lorrie left, a few people watched them, some staring with a good
bit of fear, though a few of the men were obviously more interested in the fit
of their blue trousers than they were in the idea that they might be
Westmorlands. She wasn't, but her clothing had been designed to nearly match
Beth's. It was better tailored however, since Ethyl had a hand in that part.
She wouldn't let anyone wear something that wasn't perfectly fit to their form,
after all. Not for the first time, Gwen was rather pleased that neither she nor
Katherine had been prone to being overweight. Being lumpy and shown off at the
same time would just be embarrassing for her.

Though,
come to think of it, people here seemed to be less judgmental that way than
back home. Her information had come from television for that, but it had seemed
like a real thing at least. It was so common that no one really even thought
about it. If you were fat, you were the joke, or the comedy relief. That, or
the lesson of the week, since tolerance for difference was a good thing.

As
if being a few pounds too heavy made people all that different?

The
wooden structures of the place were worn and even cracked in places and the
whole thing was made of wood. There was actual dirt on the benches too. She
didn't comment on it, just sitting, after making some token brushing motions,
angling her body away from Beth, so that they could each watch half of the space.

Bethany
however, was a Detective first, and watched the whole platform carefully. It
was open on one side, but covered for comfort, and about a hundred feet deep,
so that even in the rain or snow, people would be out of it. The ticket areas
were at the back, but they didn't really need those, since they'd already been
provided, and if they lost them, well, she had a Crin.

They'd
get
on
the fucking train.

Her
temper was rising already and no one had done more than even looked at them.
Yeah, she knew that would set her off, since for the longest time a person that
stared at her almost always meant trouble, or at least ridicule. Thankfully it
did this time too, since a woman and her female friend marched over to them,
and started reading them the riot act.

"You!
You're dangerous you are! Westmorland rifters, come to tear things apart like
you did Worthington! We's all good people here and don't need none of that kind
of shenanigans. Git. Git." She used both her hands to make a gesture that
Gwen assumed meant they were supposed to
git
, as she was instructing
them to.

Her
friend was holding back several paces, and just looked scared rather than like
she wanted to personally remove them from the place. Most of the other people
looked away. It was probably considered the correct thing to do when a woman
was making a fool of herself in public. Even Beth did it, and she was the one
being insulted. One of them.

The
woman was clearly not an uppercrust person, economically speaking. It was in
her voice and her rather shabby, if very well pressed, dress. It had to be
warm, being more of a sturdy winter fashion, but not everyone could afford to
dress to each season, she bet.

Gwen
did something unexpected it seemed, and actually spoke back to the woman, which
got her to go silent, almost instantly. Shocked, no doubt.

"No.
We're on Special Service business, sent by the King himself, at least on
paper." That was true, since all Special Service work was by order of the
King, even if he didn't personally know about it at the moment. "Now,
you're going to go and sit down, and not run your mouth at us, or I'll find
some excuse to have you up on charges. I normally wouldn't bother, but I've
been up for over a day and have a splitting headache. So which are we doing? I
think I have about an hour to send for the local Constabulary, if you
really
want to play it that way." She glared.

Gwen
was actually good at that one, it having been one of her three recognizable
facial expressions from back home, her lumpy and scarred face not really being
able to smile or frown. Glaring though, was universal. She'd also done sad
credibly well. At least people in the hospital had always said so.

The
woman froze in place and her friend, clearly being the smart one, pulled the
woman away by the arm with more force than really seemed needed.

When
she spoke, it was with a good bit more politeness at least.

"Sorry
ma'am's, A mistake. Didn't know you was on duty, Clara didn't. Not trying to
interfere."

Gwen
looked at the woman, but forced herself to assume she actually meant it, or was
at least trying to get out of a bad situation without jail time, or whatever
they'd get for interference.

"Understood.
We'll let it go this time, but don't do it again. Things are still too tense,
and everyone knows that it wasn't the Westmorlands that rifted Worthington, but
the terrorists that were being lead by Doctor Debussey."

The
woman that was pulling her friend away actually spit on the floor, when that
name was mentioned. It was crude, but really did show their contempt pretty
well.

The
smart one, who was the shorter of the two traveling women, as well as the more
timid looking, having slightly bugged eyes and gangly features, suddenly looked
stern.

"I
know that, ma'am. Clara too. She's just been listening to the Newsies too much.
The wrong sort. I told her not to, but people are afraid. Those evil ones, they
took the Capital, in the blink of an eye, and no one could stop them, not until
Gwen Farris went and killed that
Debussey
woman." There was more
spitting then. From a lot of people.

Gwen
looked at the woman and tried not to wince, hearing her own name like that.

"Gwen
Farris and a
lot
of other people. Mainly Westmorlands. Here's something
I bet you didn't know, when they went in, they were planning to rift the gate
that was being formed, if nothing else would work. Every single man, woman and
child that was there, and yes, there were children in that group, was ready to
give up their lives to protect you. The only people that went were volunteers
and every
Westmorland
that was asked to go did it without hesitation.
Even thinking that they'd probably die in the process. It was Bethany
Westmorland that Doctor Debussey considered the biggest threat to her gaining
power. In the end, she was
only
stopped because of that one woman's
actions."

The
woman doing the tugging nodded, and pulled the other one away, though she was
clearly angry and tried to come back, probably for more yelling. It sort of
gave the lie to why people claimed they feared the Westmorlands though, didn't
it? They said they feared death due to rifting, but then walked right up to
these "dangerous" people and started insulting them to their faces?
Not everyone did it, but it was clear they were just using that as an excuse to
be mean and cruel to people that they knew weren't allowed to fight back.

Ones
conditioned not to, without direct orders.

It
was barbaric, really.

Now
even more people were staring at them, and a few looked upset. Angry and
hostile. She let her right hand move toward her clothing bag, since she might
need one of the Crins in there. It was laying across her lap at the moment, the
strap of her backpack around her ankle to prevent theft. No one else was doing
that and a few people had clearly just left their trunks, suitcases and other
soft sided bags as they went to use the restroom or go to the vendor that was
selling fruit and what seemed to be cups of coffee in cheap looking ceramic
bowls.

That
would be nice, but she had to wait, in case of attack. Over the course of a
minute she opened the two top buttons of her clothing bag, and put her left
hand on the cool metal pipe of one of the crystal inducers. Her hand wasn't on
the squeeze trigger, which she hoped was a smart move. The way she was feeling,
she was a lot more likely to snap and need the extra few moments not to kill
someone for saying the wrong thing than she was to need instant death at her
fingertips. Hopefully.

Her
head hurt, and she was grumpy, which might just cost these people some discomfort
in return, if they didn't leave her and Beth alone.

When
the next wave of attacks came, it was at least in a different vein. Honestly
they weren't even attacks, just people being questioning of what she'd just
said.

It
started with a man that was wearing a rather normal looking suit, a lot like
what the constabulary wore on duty, but with just a few wrinkles in it. His
large trunk probably meant he was a traveling salesman of some kind. Instead of
trying to get them to buy something, he commented on her words.

Gruffly.

"And
how would you know what happened on that fateful day? I can't remember anyone
singling out a particular Westmorland for accolades or praise. It was, or at
least it's said, Gwen Farris that killed the woman. Even that is more than a
little suspect, isn't it? Both the hero
and
the villain being women? The
whole thing has always struck me as being more than a little unlikely. It was
probably a full strike team that took down the true mastermind, and the rest of
this is just a farce, so that we could all sleep at night, safe in the
knowledge that no one will ever be able to do such a thing again."

It
actually sounded pretty reasonable to her, Gwen realized and a few other people
were nodding along, until a young man that looked to be of an age to be at
University, shook his head and stood up.

"No,
she's real. I was trying to sign up on that day, for the army, when she came
along and told us that we might as well hold off, as the battle would be too
soon for that to do any good. Then she had one of the
Embattled
hand out
weapons to us and show us how to use them. Complete with dot-sighters, so we
wouldn't miss too much. I was in guarding the assembled magicians that had come
to help, so I believe I heard more of the story that most. What she said
matches. Then, it
would
." The man, who couldn't have been more than
about twenty, sat and didn't say anything else, but he did rather glare at the
mustached salesman fellow. That didn't stop him from running his mouth however.

"Oh?
So you admit that things were hidden from the public? They always are. The
government views us all as imbeciles, fit only to shine their shoes and pay our
tariffs. People were so scared that they were willing to believe anything that
came over the Telesar, and the King decided to make a hero of some woman,
thinking us all too foolish to realize it was nothing but a lark for him. That
or he isn't intelligent enough to understand that any thinking man would see
right through his flimsy words-" He stopped suddenly, since he had a PC in
his face.

Beth
stood there, true anger in her eyes, ready to kill the man. At least that's how
Gwen took what she was doing. She nodded at the man and waved at her friend.

"I
think it's the part about the King not being intelligent. You
might
want
to take that part back. Um,
quickly
."

The
man wasn't that foolish, and did it with good enough humor.

"Indeed,
I misspoke. I know the King to be a man of intelligence, but I simply cannot
see women being responsible for all of this. Surely you can understand that it
isn't very likely, can't you?"

Beth
put the PC, a dull silver metal piece, away in the special side pocket that was
built into her uniform for it and smiled, a bit wickedly.

"It's
all true though. Every single word of it. Unlikely or not. I say that with
shame, since it might reflect poorly on me as a woman, but I won't lie about
it."

The
man cleared his throat and looked away.

"Naturally
not. I was clearly letting my manners slip. I meant no insult to your word. Or
that of your friend here. I guess, as they say, it's best not to discuss
business or politics in an open setting."

That
got a small nod from several other people, and no one else tried to talk to
them at all, even though the University man kept looking at her. Probably
trying to see when she was going to fall down, exhausted. She should get in on
that, because her own guess had to be better than anyone else's. That or he'd
actually noted that she had her hand inside her clothing bag and it seemed to
have a frame on the sides, which most such things didn't. That was where the Crins
were being kept, one on either side. It did look a bit funny, she realized,
though no one else was staring at her.

Finally,
and very quietly, compared to what she'd expected from old movies, the train
pulled up, a large silver bell ringing as a man walked out of the ticket area
and called out in a loud voice.

"The
blue line, number seventeen is in. The blue line, number seventeen. Please have
your tickets ready at the door, and have a safe and comfortable trip."

Not
nearly as many people moved as she would have thought. It was just her, Beth,
the salesman, University guy, and almost ironically, the two women from
earlier. The rest of the people all just stayed put.

At
least the man with his large case and even larger trunk managed a wry grin for
them when they stood.