The Miscreant (29 page)

CHAPTER 10

“Keep on your toes,” Dean Kelsey told Martin. “Garran could be any one of these people. Most spies will infiltrate an event as one of the staff since no one of importance looks twice at a servant.”

“Yes, sir. I was a fourth-year student,” Martin retorted. “I think I have spotted him.”

The dean followed the former student’s gaze to the caterers attending the multiple tables of food. “Ah, good eye. Which one?”

“The one serving the bacon-wrapped water chestnuts. Wait…no, the one over there with the drinks tray.” Martin’s eyes darted between the numerous waiters and servers. “I…I’m sorry, I can’t tell. They all look like him.”

Dean Kelsey smiled and muttered, “Very nicely done, Mr. Holt.”

“What do we do?”

“Keep to your persona and mingle. He is not expecting me to have my own team as well and will not be looking for you, especially disguised as you are. Get a drink, enjoy the food, and see if you cannot deduce whom is the real Garran Holt. It appears he thinks he found a loophole in my rules. Inform me if any of these other players are students. Time is on our side not his.” 

Martin blended into the slowly amassing crowd to act as the dean’s secret eyes and ears. Dean Kelsey gave a mental nod of appreciation to Garran’s use of multiple distractions. It was an advanced method, one only briefly mentioned and not taught until well into a student’s third year. Garran certainly possessed some skills in the art of “diplomacy”, but a proper agent needed more than simple guile. They required superior standards in education and civility, and this was something Garran would never achieve.

He turned to Commander Elric who stood nearby with two of his fellow constables in disguise. “Give me a little space, you’re looming, but do not stray too far. I want to catch Mr. Holt in the act to best humiliate him in front of everyone, and I do not want to scare him off. His ego is his greatest weakness, and I wish to exploit it.”

The constable nodded, and he and his cohorts blended into the crowd as best they could while keeping the dean within sight at all times. Dean Kelsey turned when someone cleared their throat. Professor Kliment stood between two women. One was young and comely, the other a decade older with the dusky skin and wearing the head wrap typical of women from Sorne. Barbara appeared as relaxed as she felt in her Sornese garb, but Aniston tugged and shifted in his dress uncomfortably until Barbara slapped at his hands to make him stop.

“Professor Kliment, I am glad to see you attending the show, and with two lovely women as well.”

The mathematics professor fought to make his smile appear genuine despite his nervousness. “Dean Kelsey, allow me to introduce my niece Lynnette and my friend Parvana visiting from Sorne.”

The dean bowed and kissed each “woman’s” gloved hand. “It is always a pleasure to be in the company of beautiful women. Don’t you agree, Walter?”

Professor Kliment coughed into his gloved hand. “Yes, of course.”

Aniston plucked at his frilly dress and looked toward the buffet. “I am going to go partake of the refreshments. Would anyone like anything? Dean Kelsey?” he asked in a soft but high-pitched voice.

“No I will not be eating tonight, thank you.”

Aniston stifled a frown and curtsied before zigzagging his way through the crowd and browsing the feast of mostly finger foods arrayed upon the tables.

“I am going to leave Lady Parvana in your care, Dean Kelsey. She is very interested in your program, and I see some folks I must speak with.”

When the professor left them alone, Dean Kelsey asked, “So, how do you know Professor Kliment?”

“My father is a mathematician, and they have been corresponding for years. When I got the chance to travel, I used their connection to secure a place to stay. When Walter told me how you institute the exams for your diplomacy program, I was very intrigued. This is more like a gala than a test.”

“I find that by creating a situation similar to what our students will face in the field, we are able to gauge their true aptitude in ways that no written exam or purely artificial metric can provide.”

Barbara plucked two glasses of wine from a passing tray and held one out for Dean Kelsey.

The dean directed an upraised palm toward her offer. “I am sorry, but I will not be drinking tonight.”

Barbara shrugged and took a sip from each glass. “I guess the festivities will start a bit early for me. Is everyone in on the game then?”

“Not directly, no. Everyone who attends these events knows that students are taking an exam, but they do not know whom it is or what their requirements are. It is two weeks of gallantry for the capital’s select few.”

Aniston returned bearing a plate of delectable finger foods. “Dean Kelsey, you must try the mushroom polenta. It is positively divine!”

“I cannot, but thank you.”

“Those do look scrumptious,” Barbara declared.

Aniston rotated the plate in his hand, and Barbara selected one from the edge presented to her. Aniston gave the dean a querying look, but he shook his head. The undercover student scowled and stormed away, covertly dumping the remains into a potted plant.

Dean Kelsey directed Barbara’s attention toward the stage erected at the front of the massive ballroom. The musicians withdrew behind painted backdrops and the play began.

“I hear this troupe is very good,” the dean said.

Barbara glared her contempt. “They should be. The Guild commands a rather high price for their performances.”

“Ah, that’s right. Sorne is one of the few places The Guild has not been able to establish a foothold.”

“The Sornese prize freedom above all else.”

“Many consider their level of freedom akin to chaos.”

“Sometimes a little chaos is good for people.”

“But can you call it a true kingdom when the leaders are barely considered a legitimate government by most civilized nations?”

“Is it a true kingdom when your king is barely considered the legitimate ruler? Better to live in a chaotic state where everyone is on an equal footing than an oligarchy where only a select few are allowed to prosper.”

Dean Kelsey smiled. “I am surprised to hear that you have such a strong opinion regarding Sorne considering you are not Sornese.”

Barbara tensed, nearly sloshing some of the wine from her glass. “What do you mean?”

“Your accent is very good, but it is not perfect. Did Garran not tell you I was once an agent, and a decorated one at that? My greatest strength has always been my analytical prowess. I can take the smallest bits of information and paint a complete picture of an entire nation’s activities and goals.”

He turned the amateur spy back toward the stage. “I love this play. I personally selected it as this night’s main event. It is called
The Clever Rat
. Are you familiar with it?”

Barbara shook her head.

“It is about this rat who invades the king’s kitchen. The chef is one of the best in the land, but this one rat insists on raiding his kitchen. Time and time again, the rat makes the chef look like a fool. Many people start to think that the chef is a buffoon who lacks the intelligence to outsmart a mere rodent. What they do not understand is that the chef could squash him at any time, but he does not want just one rat no matter how much trouble it causes. He wants to show all the rats that no matter how clever one is, he is still the master of his kitchen. In the end, the clever rat’s downfall is so traumatic, that no rat ever again tries to raid the chef’s kitchen.”

Barbara stood and watched the play in silence while trying to pick out Garran amongst the disguised servants and caterers to warn him, but she could not find him. She managed to lock eyes with Aniston through the crowd and made a throat slitting gesture.

Aniston’s heart raced. They were running out of time, and Dean Kelsey refused to eat or drink anything. With the three poorly disguised constables always looming nearby, getting in close enough to make a more overt assassination while conceivably escaping was going to be impossible.

As the play ended and the orchestra took their places, Aniston grabbed a glass of sparkling wine and made one last attempt. He staggered through the crowd, bumped heavily into Dean Kelsey, and giggled while thrusting the glass into his hand.

“Here, drink this and come dance with me,” Aniston ordered as he led the dean onto the dance floor.

Dean Kelsey smiled and set the glass on a passing servant’s tray. “I cannot drink tonight, and I do not need anything to loosen me up in order to dance.”

The dean took Aniston’s gloved hand in his, placed his other hand in the small of the espionage student’s back, and danced him around the room.

“You do dance divinely,” Aniston said.

“As do you.”

“Nonsense, I must be a complete klutz. I fear I have imbibed a bit too much. I do hate when I do such a thing. It makes me behave…foolishly. You should have a drink with me so we can be foolish together.” Aniston was not an actor, but he thought he did a marvelous job of choking down the bile that erupted in his throat without betraying it on his face. 

“I fear I must decline not matter how fetching you look as a woman…Aniston.”

“What?” Aniston exclaimed and dropped his high voice. “Shit.”

“I have to admit, you and Mr. Holt have done a marvelous job thus far on your exam. It is a shame you fell in with the likes of him. Like Martin, I had high hopes for you. Perhaps I can also find some redeemable use for you as well after I fail you and Garran. You only have a few minutes left. Tell me what else he has planned and I will let you leave and save you some of the humiliation I have planned for Garran Holt.”

Aniston cast a mournful look at the floor and shook his head. “This was it. Parvana or I was supposed to spike you with rapture root and lure you out into the garden where Garran would kill you. Dammit, I knew I couldn’t trust his idiotic schemes, but I followed him anyway! Now my future is ruined because of him.”

“It is tragic, but that is what Garran Holt does. He is a disease, and he infects even the best of people when he…” Dean Kelsey burped loudly and held his rumbling stomach. “Oh my, something is not right.”

He raised one hand and waved Commander Elric and his men over. “Get me out of here!”

The campus constable took him by the elbow and pushed through the crowd. Dean Kelsey wondered if Garran had gotten to him somehow, but he had been so careful. Perhaps it was just a reaction to his lunch earlier in the day. Was it a coincidence, or had Garran gotten to him then? No, he could not believe that Garran could plan a poisoning with that degree of accuracy. All he had to do was “live” for another fifteen minutes and Garran would fail.

“I’m not going to make it!” Dean Kelsey shouted to Elric and pulled away toward one of the bathrooms.

He grabbed the handle but the door was locked. “Occupied!” someone shouted.

The dean raced across the room and tried another, but it too was in use. The dean’s eyes darted up the stairs to the second floor. He bounded up the steps two at a time, a complicated feat when one is clenching one’s buttocks together as tightly as two stones in a castle wall. Dean Kelsey ripped the door open, dropped his trousers, and explosively relieved himself.

“Sir, are you all right?” Elric asked through the door.

“Yes, fine! Give me a bit of privacy for God’s sake!”

Elric motioned to his men to take position at the top of the stairs out of earshot but within view of the privy. The distressed dean leaned forward, locked the door, and sat back with a sigh. Everything was fine. It was just a bit of intestinal distress. He was safe.

A panel slid open on silent glides behind him, and someone clamped a wadded cloth over his nose and mouth. Dean Kelsey tried to shout and clawed at the arm wrapped around his neck then at the hand covering his mouth. The strong scent of ether assailed his nose and burned his lungs before he slipped into unconsciousness.

In the ballroom, the lights went out and cast the room into darkness. Alarmed exclamations and small shrieks of surprise filled the room. A loud commotion and grunts of pain sounded from the top of the stairs near the long balcony overhead.

“Please, everyone remain calm and stay where you are. It’s all part of the show,” someone shouted.

Murmurs and bits of laughter replaced the attendees’ fearful exclamations. Everyone waited anxiously to see what was going to happen next. It took several minutes before someone began relighting the lamps and brightened the ballroom once again. More gasps and shouts erupted at the scene those lights illuminated.

Martin and the three constables lay trussed up and displayed on the tables with an apple stuffed into each of their mouths like roasted pigs. However, what drew everyone’s rapt attention was Dean Kelsey suspended from the balcony rail by his feet with a rope tied around his ankles, stripped naked, and haphazardly painted blue.

Garran burst into view standing over the dean with his arms raised above his head wearing the play’s rat costume. “Ladies and gentlemen, the chef is dead and the kitchen belongs to the rat! Goodnight, everyone!”

Garran vanished from sight and the crowd applauded. It was not until they untied Martin and the constables and lowered Dean Kelsey from the railing that they noticed all of the servers along with the silver cutlery, candlesticks, and serving dishes were gone, the food they once held dumped onto the tables and floor.