The Miscreant (31 page)

Gordon swallowed. Until now, it all seemed like conjecture and talk, but with the addition of Dolph, he was now part of a full-on conspiracy to commit murder. It all suddenly seemed very real.

“Do I have to kill my brother too?”

Dragoslav shook his head. “I will take care of that when the time comes. You will be far away when it happens so there will not be a shred of suspicion cast your way.”

“How do I do it? My father, I mean.”

Dolph handed Gordon a crossbow bolt fletched with his father’s favorite attendant’s colors.

“This is Frazier’s.”

“That’s right. No one would ever think old Frazier would intentionally hurt your father. This has to look like an accident,” Dolph explained. “When we track down the buck, I’m going to suggest that me, Rastus, and Jed circle around ahead of him. You, Frazier, and Pierce will drive him to us. You get Frazier to take the shot. When he does, you switch your bolt with this one and kill your father. Folks will think Frazier missed and hit Rastus. It will be a tragic accident.”

“But how—”

Dragoslav laid a thick hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Trust me; I’m good at this sort of thing. It will happen…Your Majesty.”

Gordon smiled. He liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

CHAPTER 11

(Two years later)

“My God, Garran, what the hell have you been doing?” Aniston asked as he loomed over Garran who was sprawled out on a mound of pillows on the floor.

“That, my friend, is called a weekend bender of booze, opium, and some rather cheap but eager prostitutes.”

“You are going to ruin yourself.”

“Then my work here will be done.”

Aniston struggled to pull Garran upright. “No, I’m serious. We need to study for our finals, otherwise the pounding in your head will be our coffins being nailed shut.”

Garran rolled off the pillows and sat on the edge of his bed. “Study is a four-letter word.”

“It’s five…”

“It’s offensive. Bookworm academics study. We are men of action, and men of action prepare.”

“We have a week before our written final and ten days for the practical. If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll go study—”

“Ah!”

“—prepare for the written. I’m not as clever at hiding cheat sheets as you are.”

“Fine, go stick your nose in your books. I’ll have what I need in a couple of days.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to actually learn some of this stuff,” Aniston said.

“It might,” Garran countered. “I feel myself dying just a little bit inside every time I conform to Dean Kelsey’s ideas of rules and order.”

“That’s not conformity, that’s your liver crying out from constant abuse.”

“Livers are a bunch of babies. Toughen up or get out, that’s my motto. My kidneys can take over anytime it wants to quit.”

“I don’t think that’s how they work.”

“No one knows how they work, and that makes my theory every bit as sound as some physic’s.”

“Except that physics have devoted years and decades to studying how the body works,” Aniston argued.

“Now you see why studying is such a waste of time. They have spent half their lives with their noses stuck in books and guts, but their knowledge is no better than mine is.”

“I think one of us is missing some valid point here…”

Garran stood and laid a hand on Aniston’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, that’s why you have me to help you work through these tough intellectual conundrums.”

“Right…”

Aniston left to study, and Garran limped across the grounds toward the gates, his body protesting the numerous injuries Victor had inflicted on him once a week for the past four years. Every bruise seemed to cry out for revenge, but few ever got satisfaction. While their sparring battles ceased being completely one-sided long ago, they all eventually ended with Garran on the ground nursing new injuries. It almost made him consider fighting Victor sober for a change…almost.

***

Martin watched Garran leave the dorm and head across campus. He stayed well behind and out of sight, but never let him slip from view for more than a few seconds. The former diplomacy student had created quite a report on Garran’s activities over the past two years, more than enough to expel any other student from the university, but not enough for Gregor’s wonder boy.

He stuck to the trees and shadows using everything he had learned before Garran nearly ruined his future as an agent. While he would never attain a standing within the king’s court, The Guild had been happy to complete his education and enlist him as a spy within their vast organization. He lost the prestige being a true agent brought, but The Guild job made up for it by paying much more for his services.

Garran looked around before darting into one of the maintenance sheds. Martin had long assumed this was where he hid the laudanum and opium he dealt all over campus, but his failure to find the stash was every bit as great as his inability to prove Garran was the one supplying it.

Garran emerged a minute later and tucked a small, paper-wrapped bundle into his pocket before walking purposefully back toward the main campus. He paused just outside of Ellington House dormitory and cast furtive glances all around. Garran knelt next to the bushes near the wall, shifted a fist-sized stone out of the way, and secreted the small parcel beneath it. He searched the area again with his eyes before striding briskly away.

Martin surmised that this must be a drop. Finally, after all this time, he might be able to get the evidence he needed to expel Garran from school and maybe even get him put in prison. He waited until Garran was out of sight before moving to the bushes and retrieving the package from beneath the rock. He carefully pulled open the paper and stared dumbfounded at the ordinary kerchief in his hand. Martin thought Garran had duped him until he saw something printed on the inside of the paper.

You’re going to need this.

“What…?”

Martin turned around and caught a brief glimpse of Garran’s scowling face before his fist obscured it from view. Martin fell back and slumped to the ground. He felt blood pouring from his rapidly swelling nose and pressed the kerchief to it to stem the flow.

“Goddam it, Holt, you broke my damn nose!”

“What are doing here, Martin? Are you still spying for Dean Kelsey? I thought you both had learned better than that.”

“I was walking and saw you put something under the rock. I was just curious.”

“Just curious…So it was all a coincidence?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess coincidences do happen, like when my fingers coincidentally twisted some idiot’s broken nose.”

Garran’s hand flashed forward and clamped Martin’s nose between his index and middle finger.

“Ow, crap, okay stop!” Garran released his grip, and Martin wiped away the tears running down his cheeks with the hand not pressing the kerchief back to his nose. “Dean Kelsey knew you would be trying to pull something for finals and asked me to watch you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Garran stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. “Tell the dean I don’t need to cheat to pass his little tests. Feel free to waste your time spying on me if you want to. I’ll be the best damn
diplomat
this school will ever graduate, and I’m going to prove it.”

“Whatever, I don’t even care anymore. As far as I’m concerned, you did me a favor getting me expelled. I have moved on to better things than risking my life for Remiel for nothing but a pittance and a few tin medals.”

“Good for you, just stay out of my way, Martin.”

Garran left Martin squatting in the bushes tending to his nose and flagged down a public coach to take him into the city. He had told Martin that he was not concerned, but it was a lie. If Dean Kelsey was indeed stepping up his surveillance, Garran’s plans to pass the final were in serious jeopardy. Two feet could only stomp out one fire at a time. He would need to enlist Aniston’s help, but for now, he had other things to attend to, namely refilling his supply of tobacco twists. He was almost out, and it took several days of curing the laudanum and the rapture root concoction with which he preferred to lace them.

He entered the tobacco shop and breathed in the aromas. Normally, he preferred to buy them on the black market to avoid the outrageous markup, but that was Edmund Coulain’s territory and, seeing as how he owed the crime boss a rather large sum of opium profits, Garran preferred to avoid him. This was becoming an expensive habit.

“Mr. Ellery, nice to see you again. Are you looking for another box of Artemisian red?”

It took Garran a moment to realize that the proprietor was talking to him. Garran used aliases more often than his real name, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them straight.

“You know me too well, Wilfred. That means I’m coming here too much.”

“It means I love my best customers.”

“It means you love their money.”

Wilfred bent his arms, palms up. “One isn’t much good without the other.”

Garran paid for the box of twists and left. He had barely cleared the door when a pair of hands grabbed his lapels and shoved him hard against the side of the building. Half a dozen men pressed in around him, barring any chance of escape. People strolling down the walk found urgent business on the other side of the street.

“Garran Holt, or is it Lanny or Cyril today?” Edmund asked. “I never know who I’m talking to with you.”

“Don’t feel bad, it causes me trouble from time to time as well.”

“But I am feeling bad, or at least my purse is feeling bad. It is so upset it seems to be losing weight at an alarming rate. Do you know why that is?”

Garran shrugged. “Your wallet is having an affair?”

“Because you are smoking half the product you are supposed to be selling for me!”

“Look, Edmund, half is still a lot more than you were getting before I opened that market for you. You are still making money, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that we had a deal, and your lack of self-control is undermining the entire damn thing.”

“Selling opium on campus is the least important part of our agreement. In two weeks, Remiel is going to award me my agent’s pin, and that is far more valuable than losing a little bit of what is still a respectable profit.”

Edmund pressed in close enough for Garran to smell the gin on his breath. “Do I look like I run a respectable business? Get me my money, or your graduation ceremony will take place at the bottom of the harbor.”

After relieving Garran of his remaining liquid assets, Edmund and his thugs stormed away. Garran sighed, tucked his box of tobacco tightly under his arm, and began the long walk back to his dormitory. Yet another fire he had to stomp out. He really needed more feet.

***

“Aniston, we have a problem,” Garran declared as he and Aniston made their way back to their house after class.

“It is my experience that in your ‘we’ equations, things are heavily bent on the ‘you’ side of the problem,” Aniston replied.

“Fine,
I
have a problem, and I need
you
to help me solve it. I plus you equals we. It is basic arithmetic.”

“You are only passing basic arithmetic because you are extorting Professor Lyndon. Besides, it is more of a philosophical issue than one of arithmetic.”

“Whatever, call it social mathematics. The answer is still the same. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Dean Kelsey is watching me like a hawk. I caught Martin spying on me yesterday, and he has been the dean’s eyes for some time. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has others as well.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to sneak into Kelsey’s office and find out the parameters of my final.”

Aniston stopped and locked eyes with Garran. “You want me to break into the dean’s office, a retired agent, and steal your exam file?”

“No, I have a key, and obviously you can’t take the file or he will know I cheated. You just need to read it and jot down the pertinent information.”

“Why don’t you just take the test legitimately?”

“It goes against the very fabric of my being. Besides, you know Kelsey is going to make it impossible for me to pass unless I know how to counter him ahead of time. Technically, I’m just evening the playing field to make it fair.”

Aniston stood and stared at him for almost a full minute. “I think you are the devil sent to lead me astray and damn me forever, Garran Holt.”

Garran grinned. “Thank you.”

Aniston shook his head and let out a resigned sigh. “What do I have to do?”

Garran handed his friend a rough-looking key. “I’ll make sure that any eyes Kelsey has following me are turned my direction, and you sneak in through the window. Then you just have to find my file and get the information. It is precisely the thing a proper field agent does. Think of it as a precursor to your success as an agent.”

“It is precisely the thing a student does just before he is expelled. How did you get a key anyway?”

“It is one of my many talents.”

“So lying, drinking, imbibing laudanum, smoking opium, and key-making; those are your great skills?”

“Those and sneaking out of the window before paying my prostitute. One time, I hid under the bed for three hours before I was able to escape.”

“That’s awful, even for you.”

“I know, right? There was barely enough room for me to pleasure myself while she finished the rest of her customers. Rubbed the damn tip raw on the bottom of the mattress.”

Aniston’s jaw hung open as he stared at Garran, his face etched with disbelief. “You are the most disturbed human being I have ever met.”

“It was three hours! What else was I going to do to pass the time? It’s not like I could light up a smoke.”

“And like every other awful thing you have done in your life, I bet you didn’t learn anything from that experience, did you?”

“Yeah, I did. Always book your appointments near the end of the day.”

“That’s it? Be the last customer so you aren’t trapped inside for hours trying to stiff your prostitute. That’s the life lesson you took from all of this?”

“Yeah, what else is there?”