Agent of the Crown (24 page)

“I still say it’s unnecessary, milord,” said
the captain. He was in his late forties and had a scar that
extended beneath his hair, along his hairline, and terminated above
his left ear. “We’ve plenty of them already. We should send these
back and have them repaired professionally.”

The Baron said, “I prefer to think of it as
having a precautionary surplus. And I already have a professional.”
He looked up at Telaine and gestured in her direction. “Miss
Bricker, Captain Edmund Clarke. I’ve been explaining to him that
you’re the solution to our problem.”

Captain Clarke bowed. “No offense to your
capabilities, Miss Bricker, but the military does things a certain
way, and bringing in a civilian, ah, technician isn’t one of
them.”

“Good morning, milord, captain,” Telaine
said. “Could you explain what it is you’re disagreeing about?”

“Miss Bricker, how much do you know about the
situation along the border here?” the Baron asked.

“Very little, I’m afraid,” she lied. “I know
this fort holds Thorsten Pass against a Ruskalder attack. That’s
about it.”

“Very good, Miss Bricker. If such an attack
were to come, Thorsten Keep would be the only line of defense. As
such, it must remained stocked as if for a siege at all times. We
receive shipments of food, clothing, arms, et cetera, all year
round. The problem now is that we’ve received a shipment of weapons
that were damaged in transit. Devices.

“We’ve already received a replacement, but
Captain Clarke and I disagree on what to do with the damaged
shipment. Captain Clarke—” he nodded politely to the other
man—“thinks we should return it to the central armory. I believe
you
—” he nodded politely to her—“might be able to repair
them. This would allow us to maintain a surplus and save the
military on the time and effort needed to process the weapons.”

Telaine wanted to laugh at how her made-up
rumor had turned out to be true. But…shipments coming from the
government
and
from Harroden? Telaine made a mental note to
inquire about how this fort was supplied, and how often. She
blushed and cast her eyes down. “I’m so honored, milord, that you
think I’m capable,” she said. “But the captain might be right. I’d
have to see the weapons before I could promise anything.”

“Milord, I insist we not allow this young
woman to see classified government ordnance!” said Captain
Clarke.

“Miss Bricker has already demonstrated
remarkable good sense and discretion,” the Baron said. Telaine
wondered if he knew she knew about the little secret under his bed.
“And the design of these weapons is not so different from the
civilian model.”

He drew out a chair and sat down as if
enthroning himself. “Suppose we make a compromise? Bring
one
of the weapons here for Miss Bricker to examine. If she agrees she
can repair it, we allow her access accompanied by a soldier at all
times. If she can’t, then she hasn’t seen inside your defenses and
we send the shipment back.”

Captain Clarke looked as if he wanted to
argue, but couldn’t. “That’s…acceptable, milord,” he said. He
snapped his fingers at a soldier, who sauntered over. “Bring me one
of the weapons from the damaged shipment. And move quickly!”

The soldier stepped up his pace until he
reached the passage, at which point he reverted to sauntering.
Telaine felt sympathy for Captain Clarke. What kind of captain was
forced to make compromises with a civilian ally, even one
technically his superior?

They waited in silence for the man to return.
Telaine let herself openly gawk at the room, though in truth she
found it boring; the stair was the only route to the upper story,
there were no extra rooms on the bottom floor, and only one way
out. It might as well have been the inside of that hypothetical
child’s block castle.

The Baron idly picked at his nails with his
belt knife. Captain Clarke stood at parade rest, not meeting
anyone’s eyes. Morgan watched her like a lion stalking a water
hole, seeing what prey came calling. She ignored him and reminded
herself she had him under control.
For the moment
, she
thought, and refused to allow herself to fear.

The soldier returned, holding a long-barreled
gun Device which he handed to the Baron.
Not to Captain Clarke.
And the captain doesn’t protest. Interesting.
The Baron handed
the gun, butt end first, to her.

She turned it over in her hands, awkwardly
due to its length. The casing was mostly polished wood; that was an
innovation, making it lighter than current civilian issue weapons
but still heavy. How familiar should she seem with gun Devices? Her
cousin Mark was mad for guns, and she’d heard him talk about them
so often that she could name most of the parts of this gun and
guess at how it went together despite never having seen it before.
Best to err on the side of ignorance; it was working for her so
far.

“Captain Clarke, can you explain how this
works?” she asked. “I understand you pull the trigger—”

“
Squeeze
the trigger,” the captain
said. He sounded smug, as if he’d been proven right about
something.

“Squeeze the trigger, thank you captain, and
the motive force propels the bullet from the barrel and rotates the
next bullet into place. But I’m unfamiliar with this piece, and I’m
sorry if I’m being stupid, but I don’t see the bullets or the
motive force. And I’d rather not see if the barrel is rifled until
I’m sure I won’t be pointing a loaded gun at my head.” There was no
chamber that she could see, just a wide slot at the top in front of
the hammer. That smug tone had stung her into showing off.

The captain looked more surprised and less
smug. “It’s rifled, yes,” he said, “but the firing assembly is
different. It’s a compromise between the old black powder rifles
and the new six-guns. The old models had the motive force embedded
in the gun, imbued enough to fire six bullets. Then you’d have to
reload the gun and wait for someone to re-imbue it. With the new
model, the bullets come in a cartridge wheel with the motive force
installed in the wheel. Snap the—”

He looked fully at the gun for the first
time. “Stentson, why are there no bullets in this weapon? Bring me
a box at once!” Stentson ambled off again. Telaine wondered why
Clarke put up with such flagrant disrespect. She knew little of the
military, but surely that man ought to be disciplined.

“At any rate,” Clarke continued, “the wheel
goes in at the top, you lock it in place with a push of your
finger, and cock the hammer. When you squeeze the trigger, the
hammer brings the firing assembly into contact with the motive
force. You take your six shots, cocking the hammer each time—that
unfortunately slows the rate of fire, but I’m told there’s no
helping that—and eject the wheel with this button, here. Then you
slap another cartridge in and you’re set to fire again.”

Clarke had apparently forgotten Telaine was a
civilian in his enthusiasm for the new weapon. Telaine was
impressed herself, and she’d never owned or fired a gun in her
life. She looked it over, examining it for obvious defects and for
any evidence of how to open it up.

“How do you know the gun is failing and not
the bullets?” she asked.

“The bullets work fine in the guns from the
other shipments.”

“I’d probably need to see it shoot before I
could draw any conclusions.” She had to remind herself she was here
for espionage, not Devisery, but this was too much of a challenge
not to be exciting.

Stentson returned and offered a box to the
Baron, but Clarke intercepted it. The Baron didn’t seem offended.
Clarke opened the box and removed what looked like a six-pointed
snowflake of silver holding brass and copper bullets at each tip.
Clarke pushed it into the gun with a click, then looked around for
a target. On the far wall was a wooden shield, a decoration left
over from some long-ago commander of Thorsten Keep; Clarke pointed
the gun at it and fired.

It was less than spectacular. Something
snapped, and the bullet flew a few feet out of the gun and bounced
off the mildewed carpet. Clarke lowered the gun and turned to look
at Telaine. “Well?” he said.

“May I try?” she asked. When he furrowed his
brow at her, she added, “I won’t have any better luck than you,
captain, but sometimes if I feel a Device malfunction, it gives me
an idea of what’s wrong.” She already knew what was wrong. She just
wanted to feel what it was like to shoot it.

Clarke held it out to her, and she took it in
both hands, braced herself, and pointed it at the shield. She heard
Morgan, whose attention she could still feel on her, suck in a
breath.
So you find this arousing, do you? Wonderful. And I
thought I’d done well at cooling your ardor today
. She
pulled—squeezed—the trigger, felt the motive force miss its
striking surface, and heard the bullet scrape down the barrel and
fall to the floor.

She lowered the weapon. “I think I know
what’s wrong, but I’d like to take this one apart to make sure,”
she said. “May I use the table, milord?”

The Baron waved to indicate she should take a
seat. “I’m going to watch,” he announced. “Morgan, go find
something else to do. I believe my Deviser finds your presence
unsettling.” Telaine kept her attention on the gun, but she felt
Morgan smoldering with anger before he turned and left the keep.
Someday Morgan might decide he no longer cared about whatever hold
the Baron had over him, and then… it didn’t bear thinking
about.

She focused her attention on laying out a
handkerchief and her tools. The handkerchief had a black smudge on
one corner that eased her heart. Ben was waiting for her to come
back. Morgan’s attentions meant nothing beside that.

The hardest part was cracking the case. That
was common. People wanted to see the outside of a Device, not its
whirling, clicking innards, and they certainly didn’t want their
Devices coming apart unexpectedly.

“Oh. I could use one of the rifles that
works, please,” she said absently, not noticing she had addressed
the Baron until he’d risen from his chair and spoken to a soldier.
The gun appeared like magic on the table beside her. She took that
one apart, too.

“Care to take a look at this, milord?” she
said, and the Baron edged his chair closer to hers. Strange how she
didn’t feel the menace from him that she did from Morgan, despite
her conviction that he was the more dangerous man.

She used a slim rod to point to the affected
pieces. “The broken one has a misaligned firing assembly. The
motive force propels the bullet and then moves the next one to the
firing chamber, here, you see? In the working gun, this piece, and
this, line up properly. But I think you can see how in the broken
gun, this piece is in the wrong place. I loosen the screw, rotate
the piece just so, tighten the screw, and the gun works fine. It’s
a simple repair.”

She looked at the Baron. He looked ecstatic,
as if experiencing physical bliss. “Miss Bricker, you are a
marvel,” he said. He was so close she was afraid he might kiss her
in the throes of whatever passion he was feeling, but he sat back
and stared at the disassembled weapons.

“Prove that it works,” he instructed her, his
voice icy. That rapid shift in his mood—
that’s why he’s more
dangerous than Morgan. Don’t forget it, Telaine
. She quickly
reassembled the guns and handed him the previously broken one.

He snapped the cartridge wheel into the
Device, pointed it at the shield, and fired without taking careful
aim. The bullet pinged off the stone wall and flew off into the
shadows. Telaine sat frozen, aware there was no reason that bullet
shouldn’t have come back to hit her. The glamour of the weapons
vanished.

Captain Clarke picked up the one weapon and
held out his hand for the other. He examined both. “Excellent
work,” he said absently. He thumbed the eject button and caught the
wheel in his hand. “Milord, if you will allow one of my men to
accompany the young lady, I will allow her to repair the defective
shipment.”

Telaine bowed to the Baron. First step
complete. She’d still have to find out what Harroden’s shipments
were, but she’d made it through the door.

Morgan was gone
when they emerged from the dank keep. The Baron didn’t seem
perturbed by his absence, mounting as if he didn’t expect to wait
for him.

“Captain, see that your men know Miss Bricker
will be coming daily,” he said, not bothering to ask Telaine if she
was willing to work on this every day or, for that matter, if she
would officially take the job. Did this mean she was working for
the government? Could the fort afford to pay her? Fortunately, she
didn’t need their money, but it ruffled her professional pride.

She followed him out the gate, but he made no
move to take her up on his horse. Apparently she was walking
home.

“I beg your pardon, milord,” she said, not
having to try hard to act nervous, “but tomorrow is my day to go to
Ellismere and send word to my family. Is it—will you mind
terribly—can I be allowed to start the day after?”

The Baron gave her a hard-eyed stare and her
nervousness became more real. “Do as you like,” he said curtly. He
kicked his horse in the sides harder than was necessary and the
animal broke into a ground-eating stride.

“Miss Bricker,” said the captain, nodding to
her politely. “When you arrive, please come immediately to the keep
and I will assign one of my men to assist you.” Had she heard the
slightest emphasis on “my”? She wondered at Stentson’s deference to
the Baron over his commanding officer. She would bet those
professional-looking soldiers were the men who actually obeyed when
Clarke gave an order. It disturbed her that the slovenly ones
outnumbered the professionals by so much.