Authors: Arpan B
Ethan
scowled. "Shut it, Collis."
Collis
let out a great, false sigh. "That's all I hear about this
place, day and night. You'd think all these great minds could come up
with something a bit more original."
Lord
Etheridge appeared at the top of the stairs. "Shut it, Collis."
Collis
shrugged. "See what I mean?"
Ethan
disregarded his friend's glee to glare at Lord Etheridge as he came
level to him. "I'm here. I'll do it, but not because you tried
to force me. And I want my house out of hock."
Dalton
nodded, unsmiling. "Done."
Ethan
drew himself up. "What do I do first?"
Dalton
gestured for Ethan to follow him down the hall. "First, we
assess your skills. There might be a few lessons you'll need to
take."
Ethan
balked. "School? I don't think so."
Collis
grinned. "That's exactly how I felt." He became more
serious. "If truth be told, I'm glad I studied. It all came in
handy at one point or another." He clapped Ethan on the back.
"Luckily, you'll be taking lessons here and not at the school we
have nearby. I'm not sure your fragile personality could stand up
against being surpassed by fifteen-year-olds."
Etheridge
slid Collis a quelling glance. Ethan was surprised to see his friend
settle immediately. Good God, Collis really was the good little Liar,
wasn't he?
"Mr.
Damont is a special case," Dalton reminded them both. "Our
situation requires us to get someone into Maywell's immediately.
There will be very little training."
They'd
arrived at the end of the hall. Ethan expected them to step into one
of the rooms to the right or left, but instead, Collis and his
lordship faced the back wall. Etheridge pressed something, Ethan
heard a click, and the wall slid aside.
"So
that's how you sneaked up on me in the dining room," Ethan
muttered.
Dalton
smiled, almost. "I enjoyed that."
I'll
wager you did, you mad bastard
.
Ethan was beginning to regret his decision. Lord Etheridge didn't
want him here, that was plain enough.
The
next stretch of hallway was much like the first, only a bit more
worn. Ethan saw rooms to either side, one of which contained large
rolled papers stacked in cupboards to the ceiling. "Maps?"
Etheridge
stopped. "We use them and make them, especially our scouts out
on the front lines. You won't be operating there, but it wouldn't
hurt to be able to read and follow the simpler ones."
Ethan
pursed his lips. "I think I can get by," he said drily. "I
did have the same formal education as Collis." He folded his
arms. "And it happens that
I
actually studied."
Etheridge
looked to Collis for confirmation. When Collis nodded, Dalton
gestured for them to continue. "Moving along then." They
stopped at another doorway, where a pale young man in spectacles
looked up from the work piled on his desk, blinking myopically at
them. "This is Fisher. He's our code master."
Fisher
blushed. "Only until Mr. Atwater returns from Portugal," he
said apologetically.
A
red-haired young woman stood up from behind the file cupboard she'd
been delving into. "Hello, my lord, Collis. Is this Mr. Damont?"
She smiled at Ethan, who automatically grinned back. She was a pretty
thing, with her short, brilliant curls and friendly grin.
Etheridge
nodded. "Mrs. Cunnington, Mr. Damont," he said. He turned
to Ethan. "Phillipa's husband, James, is my second, and the
sabotage master, but you won't be working with him."
Phillipa
smiled, but Ethan thought he saw a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"He's out on the front lines, blowing things up," she
explained, her voice cheerful despite her concern. "He and Papa
won't be back for weeks."
"Damont
won't be using code, since his post is right here in town,"
Etheridge continued. "But he'll be bringing you anything he
might find on location. You're to give it top priority, Fisher."
Fisher
cast a despairing glance over his already piled desk, then raised his
gaze to Etheridge's. "Right, my lord. Top priority."
They
went on, but not before Ethan sent Mrs. Cunnington another grin. She
was quite the stunner.
"Back
off, Damont," Etheridge said without turning around. "James
is the jealous sort."
Ethan
was not discouraged. He'd had no idea that there were any lady Liars
besides Rose. This could end up being rather delightful. They turned
a corner and Ethan saw a slim, dark-haired lovely pinning a sheet of
paper up on a large notice board in the hall. She turned and smiled
as they approached. Now, there was a fine-looking woman! She reminded
him of Rose, without the athleticism. Ethan straightened and prepared
to turn on the charm.
"Hello,
darling," Etheridge practically cooed. "How are you
feeling?"
The
woman gazed up at Lord Etheridge in absolute adoration. "Better.
Kurt made me soup and soda crisps." She smiled ruefully. "I
think I'm going to give up on breakfast altogether."
Ethan
deflated. Wife. Treasured and expectant wife at that. He disliked
Etheridge more than ever, the lucky rotter.
"Clara,
I'd like to introduce Mr. Ethan Damont, who will be joining us.
Damont, Lady Etheridge.
My
Lady Etheridge," he said pointedly.
Ethan
slid Collis a look. "What have you been telling him about me?"
Collis
shrugged. "The truth."
Oh,
hell. No wonder Etheridge was bristling like a hedgehog. Ethan smiled
diffidently at Lady Etheridge. "My lady," he greeted her
quietly, infusing it with no charm whatsoever. "May I wish you
improved health?"
Clara
smiled back. "Why, thank you, Mr. Damont. What a polite young
man." She sent her husband one of those wifely
aren't-you-ashamed-of-yourself looks.
Etheridge's
lips twisted as he gazed at Ethan sourly. Ethan blinked innocently
back.
Collis
was peering at the notice board. "I say, Clara, you've captured
him exactly."
Ethan
leaned forward. "Who?"
"Later,"
Etheridge practically barked. "Clara, you should go rest in the
attic. I'll check in on you later."
Lady
Etheridge only looked indulgently at her husband and shook her head.
"Mr. Damont is not going to importune me, Dalton. You've made
yourself very clear." She looked at Ethan. "Hasn't he, Mr.
Damont?"
Ethan
nodded emphatically. "Yes, my lady. You are Lady Etheridge and I
am not suicidal."
She
turned back to say, "There, you see?"
Etheridge
only grunted. "Move on, Damont."
"Yes,
my lord," Ethan retorted briskly. "Anything you say, my
lord."
Etheridge
drew a breath and considered Ethan for a long moment. "I think
we'll start with Kurt."
When
Ethan followed Collis and his lordship down the back stair to the
cellar, his first thought was that this place went on forever.
When
he saw the scarred, shirtless giant crouching in a fighting stance in
the center of a vast mat, Ethan's second thought was that he ought to
have been more polite to Lord Etheridge.
An
hour later, Ethan was flat on his back on the mat, out of breath, out
of ideas, and out of any will to go on living. Kurt stood over him.
The giant grunted and held out one hand to pull Ethan up.
Lord
Etheridge entered the room as Ethan made it to his feet.
"How
did he do?"
Kurt
folded massive arms over his enormous chest. "Not much of a
boxer. 'E never laid a finger on me. Went down after one blow."
"I
see." Etheridge looked disappointed but not surprised. If Ethan
hadn't been so breathless he might have been insulted.
Kurt
grunted again. "Fast though. Took me an hour to land a hit."
Etheridge
looked stunned. "An hour?"
Kurt
nodded. " 'E could teach me a few things about dodgin' blows."
Ethan
braced his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. "I'm a runner…
not a fighter. All those irate… husbands."
Etheridge
turned to Collis, who was perched on a pile of equipment. Collis
shrugged. "I wouldn't have believed it either, but it's true. He
survived an hour against Kurt." He shook his head. "I've
never seen anyone move that fast in my life. He was a blur."
Ethan
could tell Etheridge was impressed, but his lordship only nodded. "On
to Feebles, then."
Collis
jumped down and threw Ethan his shirt. "Don't worry," he
said with a grin. "This won't hurt."
Feebles
looked odd indoors, like a wild creature unsure of its surroundings.
The little man's eyes kept flickering to the door as if to make sure
it was still open.
He
and Ethan stood in a room that at first glance looked like a
storeroom and at second glance like some medieval dungeon.
It
was all locks, chains, safe boxes. There were even several grimy
doors leaning against the walls, their keyholes shiny with use. And
in the middle of the floor, being regarded with misty eyes of love
and admiration by Mr. Feebles, stood a brand-new modern vault.
Ethan
had managed the door locks after a bit of coaching and the padlocks
were no match for the set of picks he was given. To tell the truth,
he was enjoying himself immensely. There was something very
satisfying about opening something that was meant to stay
locked—about breaching something that was made to keep him out.
Now,
however, it was time to tackle the vault. It was just the sort of
thing rich men installed in their homes to hold valuables. Ethan
regarded it uneasily. It was nearly as tall as Feebles himself and
looked as impenetrable as solid stone. The entire thing seemed cast
of iron. Even the hinges on the door were as thick as a fist.
"This
be the new Valiant numerical-lock vault," Feebles said
reverently. "The same one Lord Maywell had delivered to Barkley
Square yesterday mornin' after he twigged that we'd been in his
hidey-hole durin' the ball. Ye can't drill it, ye can't smash it, ye
can't even move it without six men and a draft cart."
"Right."
Ethan stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Can't be opened—got
it."
Feebles
tilted his head and smiled gently at the vault. "Oh, ye can be
opened, can't ye, my darlin'?" he cooed.
Ethan
eyed the strange little man carefully. He'd always rather liked
Feebles. Nevertheless, he took a surreptitious step away. "How?"
Feebles
put a finger to his lips. "Shh. All you have to do is listen to
her."
"Right."
Ethan took another step. Kurt had been one thing—a giant with
fists like hammers, but certainly fathomable. Feebles was just plain
eerie. He looked as though he were going to kiss that big iron box.
Feebles
was leaning closer and closer, stroking his hand down the door to the
complicated-looking latch.
"Uh…
Feebles?"
Ethan
drew back as Feebles pressed one cheek adoringly to the iron door and
caressed the lock as delicately as if he were toying with the tips of
a woman's breasts. This was getting a bit too strange for Ethan. He
wondered whether Feebles was going to come after him next—
The
door to the vault popped open.
Ethan
blinked. "I say, Feebles, that was amazing! Do it again."
After
a few more demonstrations, Ethan had his own cheek pressed to the
iron door and was twiddling the lock as enthusiastically as he'd ever
tickled a bosom.
Feebles
hovered. "Listen… listen…"
Ethan
glanced up at him. "Do you mind?"
Feebles
raised his hands apologetically, but kept bouncing on his toes around
Ethan. Ethan ignored the little man, devoting as much attention to
listening to the tiny clicks inside the lock as he ever had to
interpreting the music of a woman's ecstatic cries.