Every moment of not knowing about Silus seemed to take years off my life. I didn't know how I survived it, but survive I did. While I ate my meals in the kitchen, and no one spoke to me, and I might as well not have existed but for their benign and casual care, Kit was off somewhere dining with the toffee-nosed bastards who knew where my Silus was. And taking an age to tell me.
It had been days — days! — since we spoke, and I was growing desperate. I was about ready to break my promise to wait for him, and just go off and leave and try to find him myself. I would eventually be able to track him down through our connection, but that could take as long as finding the North Pole with only a simple compass and nothing else to help along the way. It could be a very clear direction, and yet still be a desperately difficult journey.
I had not quite reached the end of my tether, although I had begun to plan an exit strategy and was certainly thinking dark thoughts about the trustworthiness of clock-men, when he sought me out in the garden. I was taking the air and getting sunshine, which was supposed to be good for my mind. There were worse ways to spend the time, I suppose, though I was hardly aware of my surroundings, I was trying so hard to feel more than the connection between myself and Silus. I kept trying to reach through, to touch his mind or heart. But I could not.
Was it the distance? Were we simply not that well tuned to one another yet? Our bond was, in some senses, very new...
"Gareth," said Kit, sitting down beside me on a stone bench. He sounded winded, though he did not appear to have been walking fast, and it was not far from the house.
"Yes?" I said through gritted teeth, not turning to look at him. It was all I could do to remain nonchalant and not react visibly. I had to keep up appearances, in case anyone was watching. Jonas was always somewhere — though not always closely watching. I had a feeling he might be monitoring me with magic. The ministry wouldn't send just one bodyguard to keep watch over me unless he had magic — or unless I had no real value to be guarded anyway, in which case why send anyone?
"I think...we...have a few minutes alone."
I almost ground my teeth. Just say it!
"Have to catch my breath, sorry." He really did sound sorry. I glanced at him, trying to look as bored as I'd been by the rest of the universe, and as out of it.
(Had Jonas caught something? I hoped not; I didn't trust that man. He held his cards too close...)
After a few more agonizing minutes, Kit began to speak haltingly. I felt love from him, startling me. I had lived a very barren, loveless life for the most part, growing up without finding people who deeply cared about me. It had made me, perhaps, more sensitive than most to noticing when love actually was there. It was perhaps why I'd believed Silus loved me, when he thought he only felt strong affection. But that was long gone now; he did love me, and I didn't need anyone else's love.
But this was...it was warm and bright as a rainbow, but softer than the strong, fierce love binding me with Silus. This was a kind of gentle emanation aimed toward me. It seemed to be something Kit gave off naturally, caring about people, but I was still surprised. It felt too strong for what we were to each other: basically strangers who had spoken a few times. I had wanted something from him both times, and it looked as though both times, I would get it...
"I asked as...as carefully as I could. He took a job to get you out of it. Of jail, I mean. The Skeffields worked to get you out with their influence and lawyers, and...and he bargained the rest of it away, so you could get free and be kept safe while you recover."
He paused again for breath, for rather longer than I liked. The man needed stronger lungs. Or rather, a stronger heart. When I listened (for I could use my magic again, easily and well), I felt its weakness inside him, beating with as much strength as it could muster, like a soldier holding the line as long as he could, however close he was to failing. I felt that from the heart. Love from the man, mild and kind, easily given and without asking anything in return. But the heart: failing.
"They sent him to...to Siberia. He's supposed to investigate something that happened there. It's dangerous and cold, and a long way away, but that's really all any of us know. Louie said he must have packed a great deal of furs, and would he be riding sled dogs or reindeers or something? After that I got nothing more."
He paused again to breathe, to gasp, to struggle onwards in life. Every moment must be hard on him. He hadn't seemed so poorly the last time we'd spoken.
In spite of myself, I reached out and touched inside his chest with a little dose of magic. I gave his heart a bit of a lift, some extra strength.
I was no healing magician, but my skills tended towards the very delicate and precise rather than high-powered or explosive or intense. It was fairly easy for me to offer him some energy in the precise place it was most useful. The point that was closest to failing...that was in danger of collapse each time he exerted himself even a bit...that was easy enough to shore up. I would see how that repair took, and then offer a bit more if I could. His heart was larger and weaker than it should be for a man his age, struggling against an inborn weakness or damage it had taken from a very early age, I wasn't sure which.
"Was that all?" I asked. "How long has he been gone? Any word when he'll return?"
"He left the day he brought you here — four weeks ago. I don't know when he'll return." He glanced at me, shy and nervous and humble. "I'm sorry, it's the best I could do."
"That's fine. It helps, thanks." I mumbled the words, barely hearing his apology as my mind raced.
Tunguska. He'd gone to investigate the Tunguska Explosion. Drat the luck! That was a graveyard of agents; before the War, it hadn't received proper attention, and after, it was only a place they sent agents they thought were either good enough at magic to actually figure something out (so far, none had been) or in enough disgrace to be expendable, if perhaps they didn't survive the inhospitable journey and landscape. Not to mention the locals who did not, actually, want us there...
Silus Smith, the man I loved, fit both categories admirably.
Now the question was, what was I to do about it?
Before I had the chance to come to a definite conclusion, someone set up a big ruckus. I heard a rather shrill voice, in panic and outrage, exclaiming, "Let me go! Let me go!" There were sounds of a struggle. Someone else bit off a curse, and then didn't: there were a string of curses from both.
The shrill voice had begun to lack coherence. My magic told me there was a fight between two people, one much smaller than the other, and that many people were rushing to join the alarm.
Kit and I glanced at one another. This seemed worth seeing, and his eyes said he wanted to, though he was afraid, too, of what might be going on. I wasn't afraid his heart would give out any time soon, not with the extra energy I'd given him. I offered him my arm, and we went.
Since it was so busy, we weren't particularly noticed. A small, rather bowlegged person was struggling to fight off another, larger man who had a very firm grip on him and a very fierce look on his face. Every time the small one, through massive gyrations and intense struggle, began to get free, the man caught him back, partly with his strength, partly with loops of magic he kept flinging around the boy.
I realized from his signature that he wasn't a boy, but a small man. The other man...now I recognized him. He was a kind of hound of the ministry, sent to interfere and investigate and weasel out the truth of things.
I found him rather nasty, personally, although I suppose his magical bent made him suited for it. He was the sort of person who took a look at you and you could feel him trying to judge, to pry all your secrets loose. I didn't have many secrets, aside from the heartbreak over Silus that I had tried to hide for so long, even from myself. I suppose that was enough to make me hate the man. The pain in me had been worse than a sore tooth, and there was always something about Cillian Kinsy that had threatened to press on it for me.
I stepped forward automatically now to stop him hurting the small man who was struggling so valiantly. He was turning a bit blue. The magic cords were choking the life out of him.
"Let me go," he said, but the words were less distinct.
I moved forward and snipped. The cords were cut. It was easy, and I didn't think about it, nor how I was revealing myself now.
He fell, and scrambled away, as Cillian turned to me, his eyes almost glowing with indignant wrath. "What are you doing? Traitor!"
He lunged at me, but I parried the clumsy attack with ease. He wasn't really paying attention. "What are you doing?" I said.
"That man...has been sneaking around. He's part of a plot to bomb senators, and you're letting him get away!"
It was terribly dramatic.
I snorted.
The runtish man had hesitated only an instant before running to hide behind me. Kit seemed very alarmed and entirely at sea.
Now others were reaching us: mechanicalized men with pitchforks and other farming implements. At least one of them looked ready to kill Cillian and stomp on his dead body. There were very protective vibes coming from him, and, yes, threads of love bonding him to the runty man.
"Jimmy!" he called, desperation in his voice.
The runtish man stayed where he was, panting, rubbing his neck where it clearly hurt. He held up a hand, probably warning his partner to stay back because it was dangerous.
The man stopped. He was a tall, well-built man with alarm on his face, and mud on his clothes. He looked strong, and very worried.
Now here came Mr. Drama himself, the lady of the manor, Louie. I had not developed a fondness for Louie, and his appearance on the scene made me want to groan. He talked too much, kept little if anything to himself, and would only flutter around in hysterics, distracting us all further from the issues at hand.
Specifically, that I was no longer an invalid — and why was Cillian trying to kill someone named Jimmy who looked too small to be a danger to anyone?
And what was this about a bomb plot?
I really wasn't getting any malice from Jimmy, just the residue of terror. Being restrained had hurt him in some way...digging deep into a pain that lay in his past. It had hurt him more than the struggle to breathe, the struggle against magic: being restrained was the worst thing for him right now.
"What's wrong, what's wrong?" panted Louie. "Oh dear, don't hurt one another!" He fluttered his hands.
At least Robert was following on his heels. Those two were inseparable, although what a strong ex-soldier like Robert saw in such a little, useless man, I found hard to understand.
None of my business.
"You have a spy on the property," I said, pointing at Cillian. "He's from the magical ministry, and he just attacked this man and claimed he was involved in a bomb plot."
Robert cast me a quick, sharp look. He was reassessing the situation quickly: my recovery. But he gave me a short nod and faced Cillian. "Explain yourself, sir!"
Cillian had the grace to look slightly abashed. He began to explain about how he'd been sent undercover to look for someone who was threatening to bomb important elected officials. The threat had appeared to come from here, so the ministry had sent him to ferret it out.
"That's what I'm here for!" interrupted Jimmy, peeking around me and then darting back again. He was small and fast and scared out of his wits, but his natural indignation and fierceness were beginning to reassert themselves. The mechanicalized boyfriend still looked like he wanted to put his hands around Cillian's neck. A feeling I could sympathize with, but not encourage. I held up my hands.
"And who sent you, Jimmy?" I asked, with just enough condescension to get his hackles up, so he'd actually answer me.
"The boss sent me!" He stopped, realizing what I'd done, and looked uncertain and annoyed with himself.
"Wait, your boss thinks there's a bomb plot?" said Robert incredulously. Apparently he knew who Jimmy and this "boss" were. "That's ridiculous! We are all loyal citizens here, to every last man and woman!" He looked really angry.
The mechanicalized soldier finally stopped holding his pitchfork ready to attack Cillian. He left that to the other ex-soldiers, now mechanicalized workers, and rushed to Jimmy's side, taking him into his arms. The small man held himself stiffly for a moment, then relaxed slightly, as if this was one place he could feel safe, and not restrained.
"Who is his boss?" asked Kit, who was clearly trying to catch up. I didn't know, either.
"It's—" Robert began to answer, and then didn't. "Never mind. I think I shall have to have a talk with him. The nerve of the fellow!"
"No, no, he doesn't think anyone here is in on it. He thinks someone is trying to frame all of...of the mechanicalized men." Jimmy glanced around helplessly. "And I'm supposed to find out how."
He seemed rather insubstantial to be tasked with such a burden, and Robert for one looked extremely pissed off about it. "He should have spoken with me."
Now they all looked at Cillian. "And this man is in our midst as a spy," said Robert, his voice a hard rumble. The mechanicalized men armed with farming implements took a step towards him, soldiers once more. They were very intent.
"A stranger in our midst, attacking Jimmy," said one of them, his voice rough. "I think we might need to talk to you, sunshine."
"Yes," said Robert, his voice dark. "Take him, men. Alive, if possible."
It seemed he had his own army again.
The magician made a run for it then, his eyes bulging. I'm not sure why; any idiot could see they were angry over the bomb plot, not planning to kill one of the ministry's men unless he was a traitor. Even then, I doubt they would have.
But Cillian's nerve left him, and he tried to run. He shot out a bit of magic to get past them, but I was there, and I was ready. I cut it off at the roots, and it failed before it could even bloom as a distraction or a slipknot letting him through the trap. He fell to them quickly. No one hit him, but they caught him and held him tight, tight, dragging him toward Robert, who regarded him with cynical satisfaction.
"I think I'll be speaking to your superiors about you," he said. "They have some questions to answer, and perhaps you do as well." He glanced at me, then. "Doing better, are we, Silverman?" he said, rather coldly.
"Much," I said, giving him a hard look in return. "I doubt I'll be here much longer."
"Oh, no!" said Louie, alarmed. "We promised to look after you for Silus!" He clasped his hands together.
"I need to go to him," I answered shortly. Why was I sharing my plans with them anyway? "He needs me."
I wasn't sure if it was true, but I felt it in my bones. Was I just nervous? Or was he really in danger? There was surely no one tougher or cleverer than my Silus, not anywhere, but it was quite a journey and quite a task they'd set him, and possibly not equipped him for properly.
I must go. I have to go!
"Oh dear," said Louie under his breath.
Robert took a step toward me, eyes flashing. He gave me a hard look up and down. "I think you'd better capture him as well, men," he said.
And they rushed me.
I had used a lot of magic in helping to stop Cillian. It had been a waste; I should've run. Let him choke the small spy and fight with them on his own; let them chase him round the garden if only I could make good my escape.
I groaned as I lay on the ground, under several of them. I suppose I wasn't as recovered magically as I would have liked, if they could take me down and hold me so easily. Then again, brute force had never been my strength.
"Oh dear, are you all right?" asked Louie. "You mustn't squish him! He's been so unwell. Do stop them, Robert."
"Let him up," said Kit, his voice surprisingly strong and indignant. "That's not right!"
"Please don't hurt him," said Louie. "Oh, Robert, why are you behaving so terribly?"
"Because he's a liar and he's still lying. Take them both into the house, men. We need some answers."
It was a bit hectic after that. Every time Cillian tried to make a break for it, I snipped his magic before he could go. If I was going to be trapped here, he was, too. I didn't have the sort of blunt force I would have needed to make a break for it myself, so I didn't. My needle-pointed magic was enough keep him from using his, though, and he was panting and glaring at me by the time we were both politely restrained in the library. There were men watching us, but we weren't tied up.
Robert had been making some telephone calls. Jonas Rollings had rejoined the party and was helping keep reproachful watch on us both. He knew Cillian, or should; the ministry was not that large in our section. I couldn't think why he hadn't recognized the man previously...
But then, I don't suppose he'd have shared that if he had, especially with me out of it and under suspicion as well.
Louie and Kit were gone, the former tending to the latter and making sure he didn't overdo it, both of them going off together. Louie really seemed to want to mother someone. It wasn't going to be me. I thought of escape, and dark things about Cillian, interrupting my day and spoiling my cover.
After a bit, Robert entered the room, looked at us both, and motioned to the men. He still had that steely, military look in his eyes. A couple of them escorted me after Robert.
Jonas was not allowed to accompany us. There was that, at least.
In another room, we were alone, with guards standing outside. It was really terribly soldier-like. I couldn't stand much more of this; I wasn't here to play soldier. I glared at him, and he gave me a stony look back.
"How long?" he said.
I could've pretended I didn't know what he meant. "A few days," I admitted, instead. "I wasn't sure who I could trust."
"Nor am I sure I can trust you," he said. He tapped his fingers on the very military desk. I was surprised it didn't have a map with pins on it.
"I need to get to Silus. I think he's in trouble. I can't stay here if he's in trouble."
"Silus can look after himself. I promised I'd keep you safe till he returned." His glare intensified. "I owe you for saving my father's life — I know that. But believe me when I say I feel that debt very nearly paid in full. Do not push me too much farther, sir, or I will consider you in my debt."
I kept my mouth shut. He had helped get me out of jail. I was probably already in his debt.
And neither one of us mentioned that it was at least partly my fault his father had been in danger in the first place.
I had, however unwillingly, been working for Bauer, before I defied him to save the old man's life. The latter was the only thing that gave me any standing in Robert's eyes at all.
He sighed at last and dropped my gaze. "I won't send you back to the ministry. I am investigating this Cillian fellow very firmly. But you will not leave the property. Finish recovering. We can send a letter to Silus, letting him know your improved state. I'm sure he'll be very glad to hear it. Why don't you write him a letter as well?"
Because I should be able to talk to him through our bond, I thought. It was terribly frustrating, but in the end there was nothing I could do but give in. Write a letter — and wait. Under watch, always under watch...