Michael Stackpole - Of Limited Loyalty

“What? Yes.” Bethany set the knife down. “Owen, you’re welcome. And thank you for the knife, the advice, and your friendship.”

He gave her a smile, then nodded. “You’re welcome.” He wanted to say more, but a discordant melody issued from the thaumagraph. “Sounds important, Lieutenant. I’ll leave you to your duty.”

Michael A. Stackpole

Of Limited Loyalty

24 May 1768 Temperance Temperance Bay, Mystria

Bishop Othniel Bumble smiled happily as Catherine Strake emerged from her apartment. “Oh, very good, I feared I had missed you.”

“Bishop Bumble, what a pleasant surprise.” The smile on her face belied the tone in her voice. “Is there something with which I can be of help?”

“I do believe, yes, very much so.” He nodded toward the door. “Perhaps we should discuss this indoors. If the clouds coming in off the sea are any sign, weather will be nasty very soon.” Though not, I suspect, as nasty as our conversation.

Catherine pointed back up along Friendship. “I was actually on my way to the stable, to get the coach and head back to Prince Haven. Today was just a quick trip, you see, but we shall be back for services again on Sunday.”

“I’m certain. And I am afraid I must insist.”

“You’re scaring me, Bishop.”

“Let’s hope it does not come to that, Mrs. Strake.”

The woman reluctantly re-entered the house and mounted the steps. Bumble followed at a remove and at a dignified pace-that latter largely being dictated by his recurrent gout. He followed Catherine into the apartment. She took up a position in the middle of the room, barely giving him enough space to close the door.

“What is this about?”

“It is a matter of grave importance, Mrs. Strake. Let me assure you of that. Perhaps if you sit…”

“Out with it.” She stood her ground.

“Very well. This morning you arrived in town and gave an order for supplies to Peas Whole Goods. Do you know what was in that order?”

Anger smoldering in her eyes, Catherine sniffed and lifted her chin. “The message came from the hand of Princess Gisella. I am not in the habit of reading private missives.”

“Well, that does you some credit, doesn’t it, Mrs. Strake.” Bumble lifted his own chin and clasped his hands at the small of his back. “That order was for food, sundries, and contained an order for shot and brimstone, all to be consolidated and sent up to a town called Plentiful. Do you know where that is?”

“Richlan, just south of the Bounty Border. And how does this concern me, Bishop?”

The man chuckled. “Mr. Peas hired Ichabod Drayman to haul the supplies to Plentiful. He came to me because the form did not include proper identification numbers for the recipient in Plentiful, as dictated by the Shipping and Commerce Act. I had a number for Prince Vlad, having given him the honor of being the first enrollee in Temperance, but I got to thinking and did the math. Given when the Prince left and the time it would take to get to Plentiful, it is impossible for him to have communicated that order.”

Catherine shrugged. “Perhaps he just sent a very fast runner, or a relay of them.”

“Then why would the Princess use you to bring the order here? No, Mrs. Strake, there is deviltry afoot. The Prince with his Ryngian ways, his secret missions for your husband, the Steward’s escape: all much too convenient. The Prince is dabbling with diabolical magicks. He is every bit as dangerous as Ephraim Fox, and you are going to help me prove it.”

Her eyes widened. “I will do nothing of the sort. You are an odious little man for even suggesting it.”

“I do not believe, Catherine Strake, that you wish to anger me.” Bumble removed his hat, slipped past her, and appropriated a chair. He looked up and met her outrage with an open smile. “You see, I know your secrets.”

She stared at him with an intensity that should have had his flesh melting off.

“No denial, good. Sit down!”

“Say what you came to say.”

“Very well.” He inspected his fingernails. “I know that Miranda is not Owen’s daughter. I know you were your husband’s uncle’s mistress on the voyage here from Norisle, and I shall further speculate that you shared his bed well before that. Don’t bother to deny it. Lord Rivendell traveled on the same ship for much of that voyage. He saw a great deal and is not much given to keeping secrets.”

Catherine Strake stared down at him, but relief flickered over her face for little more than an instant. Bumble, who had enjoyed long practice of watching people as they confessed sins, understood immediately. Yes, he had uncovered a secret, and one she wished hidden, but she had more. He took that as confirmation that she was, indeed, sleeping with General Rathfield. He would have confirmation from the man himself when he returned, one way or another.

“Really, you should sit, my dear.”

Catherine chewed her lower lip, then lowered herself to the edge of another chair. “What do you want me to do?”

“Understand that your husband has lied to you, by omission if not outright. He knows of the Prince’s magick. That he did not tell you about it may have been a misguided attempt to save you in the event of the discovery of this perfidy, but no Church court will believe that. You and your daughter-a child who is not even of his blood-will face the same flames as Owen does. I don’t think you want that.”

She shook her head woodenly.

“So, you will convince the Princess to confide in you. She will confirm that the Prince is using unsanctioned magick. You will communicate the same to me, and then you and your daughter will be protected.”

“Becca, too.”

“That child is beyond redemption already.”

Catherine’s head came up and her eyes blazed. “You leave her alone or I’ll see you in Perdition.”

Bumble nodded slowly. He’d anticipated her wanting to save Becca, and he intended to surrender on that point. Her defense of the child increased her stake in the game. It also meant that later, he could threaten that stake again, and force her compliance in other matters. After all, she was not without her charms, as Duke Deathridge and General Rathfield had discovered. She would be very useful to him, on a personal level, or as part of a grander scheme.

“Very well, the child is protected, too, but only if you are able to work quickly. I should want confirmation by Sunday.”

Catherine nodded. “By Sunday, yes, I understand. I shall do my what I can.”

Bumble stood and caressed her hair. “I know you will, child. It will be for the best. You’ll see.”

Ian Rathfield sat back in his camp chair and rubbed his eyes. For the first time he wished that he’d taken Bumble up on his offer and had brought Lord Rivendell’s baggage to Plentiful. He did not want it for his own comfort, but for the appearance of elegance it would have offered. With the furnishings and the pavilion he could have shaped a Cathedral that would have been suitable for holding a service to honor the men who had fallen.

The Fifth Northland Cavalry Regiment had started west with a full complement of four hundred and fifty men. He’d left the fifth battalion with their supplies, and sent the first to Fort Plentiful. That gave him two-hundred and seventy men-three whole battalions-to throw into battle, and that is exactly what he had done. He had tossed them into danger and thirty-seven of them had emerged from it.

It did not matter that he had little choice. He could not have done things any more wisely. His choices were to do nothing and watch the trolls slaughter the Volunteers, Foresters, and Rangers, or to send his men in to do what they could. Even in Tharyngia an action such as the one he took would have left his troops vulnerable to a counter-charge by heavier cavalry.