The afternoon of the mission to free Phillip, Thomas made the uncharacteristic move of seeking out Smythe instead of actively avoiding him. He found the chancellor in his office with his aide-de-camp, studying a large map of the Aligoes. He had stuck a pin in the city of Wellinsport and surrounded the island with other pins, presumably representing the Rosian navy.
“According to King Ullr—” Smythe was saying as Thomas entered.
The aide caught sight of him and said in a loud whisper to Smythe, “Sir! The king!”
Smythe turned from his task with an impatient scowl.
“How may I serve Your Majesty?” he asked.
“You may serve me by attending a dinner engagement tonight,” said Thomas. He indicated two letters he was holding. “I have invited the Reverend Jeddah Blackthorn and the Reverend Elijah Byrd. We need the support of the Reformed Church and I understand that these two reverend gentlemen hold great influence with their flock. Since you are a follower of that religion, it seems logical that you should be the one to entertain them.”
Smythe stared at him in slack-jawed disbelief. The man seemed utterly confounded to the point of being rendered speechless.
Thomas held out the two letters. “I am sorry I did not consult you sooner, but the gentlemen only just sent word that they would be available tonight, after services. I have made arrangements for dinner to be served at ten of the clock. The hour is late, but I wanted to accommodate you, as well as the reverend gentlemen, for I know they hold services until nine and that you are generally in attendance. I have informed them that you will be hosting them.”
He handed over the two letters of acceptance. Smythe took them and gazed at them in awe.
“I have studied the words of these gentlemen since I was a child,” he said, sounding dazed. “My father taught me to read using the writings of Reverend Byrd.”
Smythe was red in the face, his hand trembling. He swallowed and replied in a voice husky with emotion, “I … I do not know what to say, Your Majesty.”
Thomas was surprised to see Smythe so genuinely touched and deeply affected. He wondered, not for the first time, how Smythe managed to reconcile his seemingly deeply held spiritual beliefs with the ability to brutally murder those who threatened his ambition.
“Dinner will be served in the Small Dining Room, a more intimate setting than the Grand Dining Room that will allow you and your guests to talk without interruption. I have invited both gentlemen to spend the night in guest rooms in the palace. I trust you will see to their accommodations.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” said Smythe. He swallowed, then added, “Thank you, sir.”
Thomas walked away, pleased with his success. Smythe would be busy the remainder of the day arranging for the servants to open guest chambers and air them out, wash the linens, clean and dust, consult with the cook and the steward and insist that they serve ale, not wine. With dinner served late, Thomas felt confident that the theological discussions would last into the morning hours.
Bolstered by Smythe’s emotional reaction to the prospect of meeting his spiritual idols, Thomas was reasonably certain that he had disposed of the chancellor for the night.
Thomas changed into his evening attire. He had arranged to dine with his finance minister and the chancellor of the exchequer in order to keep up appearances, though when he returned from his dinner at the hour of eleven of the clock he realized he had no recollection of a word they had spoken. He trusted he had not agreed to anything too outrageous.
The instructions in the Gazette had told him to wear evening attire as though attending a late-night party, so he did not change for the mission. Since he was going out, he added his tricorn, a silk-lined cloak, and silken scarf to his attire.
To conceal his absence, he took several bolsters and arranged them in the shape of his slumbering form, then covered them with the sheets. He placed his nightcap over the end and drew a heavy down-stuffed satin duvet over his “head” until only the tip of the nightcap remained visible, and closed the bed curtains.
As he finished this operation, he heard the clock strike thirty minutes past the hour of midnight. Anxious to be prompt for his meeting, Thomas quickly secreted a dark lantern beneath his cloak, slid two small pistols into his pockets, and left the palace by the “family” door, heading for the garden and the sundial where he was to meet Sir Henry.
Thomas was early, but he preferred walking outdoors to restlessly pacing his room watching the hands of the clock slowly crawl toward the hour of one.
He located the sundial and sat down on a cold stone bench. Gazing about, he reflected that a garden in winter was as somber and mournful as a graveyard.
The palace was some distance away, the magical walls shimmering with an eerie white light. People thought it beautiful and perhaps it was, but tonight Thomas thought it looked spectral, ominous. Near the frozen fish ponds, the shrubs and fir trees, wrapped in burlap, were ghostly shapes in the night. The ornamental wrought-iron fence against the glowing backdrop of the palace walls resembled prison bars. The thought made him shudder.
Thomas could not sit still. He took out his watch, noted the time, shook his watch in irritation and held it to his ear to make certain it was ticking. He occupied his mind by studying Offdom Tower, or at least what he could see of it from the garden.
The square, squat tower stood by itself, detached and dark and foreboding. Thomas could see a single light shining in a window in the guardroom at the top. The guards kept a light burning all night. No light burned in the window in Phillip’s cell.
He was probably trying to sleep, for only in sleep could he forget for a few hours that he was a prisoner. And even then, only if he did not dream of being locked inside four walls.
“Not long, my friend,” Thomas promised softly. “Not long.”
He again looked at his watch. The hands had actually moved, nearing the hour of one. He should start watching for Dalgren.
Thomas did not know where the dragon was going to land, but he could guess it would be in the open field near the stables. He searched the sky, staring into the mist-shrouded darkness. He listened intently, hoping to hear him if he could not see him.
What he heard was the faint whirring of airscrews. The patrol boat was sailing almost directly overhead. Thomas did not think those in the boat could see him through the mists, but he took no chances and hid among the shrubs. The boat continued on its way, reached the end of its run, and turned back toward the palace.
Thomas looked up to catch a fleeting glimpse of a dark winged shape drop down through the mists and disappear behind the garden wall. He quickly walked back to the sundial, trying to calculate how long it would take for Sir Henry to dismount from the dragon, enter the gate at the far end of the garden, and make his way toward the sundial.
Thomas waited what he considered a reasonable time, but when Wallace did not come, he began to wonder uneasily if something had gone wrong. He rose to his feet, hoping to locate Dalgren, but the dragon had utterly disappeared in the thick darkness.
Thomas grew increasingly worried, and then he heard movement in the darkness and saw the quick flash of a beam of light shine from a dark lantern. He could tell by the sounds that more than one person was out there. Fearing the plot had been discovered, he slipped back into the shrubbery and saw two figures, hooded and cloaked, approaching the sundial. Oddly, one was carrying what appeared to be a picnic basket. The two stopped near the sundial and took off the helms they were wearing.
Thomas recognized both of them in shocked dismay. He heard Kate ask softly, “Where is he? Do you see anyone?”
“No,” Sophia replied, sounding worried. “I hope nothing has happened. What should we do?”
“We will wait,” Kate said. “He will be here. He’s been delayed, that’s all.”
Thomas didn’t know what to do. He did not want Kate and Sophia involved in such a dangerous plot. If he remained hidden, they would both give up and go away.
But … this was Kate. Thomas knew her, knew she would never “give up and go away.” Far from it. She could take it into her head to march into the palace in search of him and put herself and Sophia into even greater jeopardy.
“I have to make Kate see reason,” Thomas said to himself as he went out to meet them. “Convince her to leave.”
He took care to rustle through the leaves so that he did not appear to be creeping up on them. Even so, the sound of his footfalls startled them both.
“Stop where I can see you!” Kate warned. “I have a pistol!”
“It’s me, Kate!” Thomas called softly, as he emerged from the shadows.
Kate sighed in relief and lowered her pistol.
“Is everything all right?” Sophia asked worriedly. “Is Phillip safe?”
“As far as I know,” Thomas replied. “Where is Sir Henry?”
“We have no idea,” said Kate. “He might be dead. We came to free Phillip instead.”
“Then you have both acted foolishly,” Thomas said sternly. “Especially you, Sophia! It is far too dangerous. Smythe’s men are searching everywhere for you.”
“Then this is likely the last place they will look,” said Sophia calmly.
“And we are not being foolish,” Kate said irately. “We need her magic—”
“No, we don’t, because I’m calling this off,” said Thomas. “You two go home.”
Kate confronted him, her eyes glinting. “So we let Pip die?”
“He would not want you to risk your lives for his sake,” said Thomas.
“Bloody hell!” Kate cried, losing patience. “We are going to save Pip and you can help us or not, as you choose!”
“We have a plan,” Sophia added.
Thomas regarded them helplessly.
“Besides, it’s too late to call off Dalgren,” said Kate. “He’ll be getting into position. Are you coming with us? Or are you going back to your nice warm bed?”
“I’m coming,” said Thomas grimly. At least if he was with them, he might be able to protect them. “What is your plan?”
“You are a drunken libertine taking advantage of two serving maids. Stand still.”
Kate placed the basket on the ground, took out the Calvados, uncorked the jug and splashed some onto Thomas’s clothing.
“What was that for?” Thomas gasped and shivered as the cold air hit his wet clothes.
“So we can get past the guards,” said Kate. She handed him the jug. “Take a drink, swish it around in your mouth, and spit it out.”
Thomas obediently took a swig of the fiery liquid, coughed, and spit it on the ground. Kate took the jug back and poured Calvados over her own clothes and Sophia’s. Then she took a drink, and handed the jug to Sophia, who drank as well, choking and grimacing in disgust.
“We’re ready,” Kate said. She gave Thomas the black silk mask. “Put that over your face.”
“Take off the royal sash and those rings you’re wearing,” Sophia ordered.
Thomas obediently put on the mask, removed the sash, and took off the rings.
“I will not take off this one,” he said, referring to the ring of King James. “Her Majesty gave it to me.”
“Then turn it around so that the diamonds are not visible,” said Kate. “You take the lead. You know where you are going and we don’t.”
“Where are we going?” Thomas asked.
“Offdom Tower, of course,” said Kate. “I’ll carry the basket.”
Thomas was starting to understand at least part of their plan. He led them across a deserted lane, taking care to keep to the shadows and avoid the entrance to the palace, where the guards would be yawning their way through their shift.
They rounded the west wing of the palace, now under repair, the hole in the wall covered by scaffolding.
“Smythe was the one who gave the orders to kill Queen Mary,” said Thomas. “He boasted to me of the murder.”
“We know,” said Kate. “Sophia and I heard him. We were in the Rose Room next door.”
“That was you,” said Thomas. “I thought I heard your voice. And Bandit’s bark.”
They entered the courtyard at the rear of the palace, avoiding the glow of the walls for fear the patrol boat would see them. The square edifice of the tower stood apart from the palace, but the two were inextricably linked in Thomas’s mind—the dark half of a bright moon.
“What are those lights?” Kate asked, stopping.
“The guard box at the entrance to the tower staircase,” Thomas replied.
“How many guards?” Kate asked.
“Two inside the box, Guundaran mercenaries. They work for Smythe,” Thomas warned, remembering clearly the Guundaran soldier telling him, You’re not my king.
“Have you been inside the tower?” Sophia asked. “Do you know your way around?”
“Yes. Once we are past the guards at the gate, we enter the staircase tower. Pip’s cell is at the top level, up six flights of stairs.”
“Any other prisoners?” Kate asked.
“The other cells are empty, the floors sealed off. There are two guards posted outside Pip’s cell door, which is guarded by powerful magical warding spells, impossible to break.”
“We know,” said Sophia complacently.
“You have the key?” Thomas asked.
“Better,” said Kate. “We have Dalgren.”
She set the basket on the ground, handed him the jug of Calvados, and took out a ball of yarn. Thomas watched in amazement as she traced constructs on the ball with her fingers, then held it poised in her palm. Sophia drew out what appeared to be a sachet from her pocket.
“I’m going to signal Dalgren,” said Kate. “When he sees the flare, he will give us time to enter the tower.”
Thomas frowned. “Give us time before he does what?”
“Attacks the tower,” said Kate.
“Attack!” Thomas repeated, shocked. “But what about Phillip? He’ll be trapped inside!”
“Do you trust me?” Kate demanded.
“You know I do,” said Thomas. He added hesitantly, “But this is Pip.…”
“He is my friend, too,” said Kate. “Dalgren and I won’t let anything happen to him.”
She spoke a word of magic and the ball of yarn began to glow with a soft blue light. With another word of magic, she tossed the glowing ball of yarn high into the air, letting the magic carry it like a balloon filled with lift gas. The ball soared past the palace walls, higher and higher.
“The paraffin causes it to burn really brightly,” said Kate, observing her work with pride.
The ball burst into bright blue-white flame, trailing blazing sparks like a comet.
“Quickly, Thomas!” Sophia ordered. “Put one arm around my waist and one arm around Kate.”
“I’ll take the jug,” said Kate. “I’m going to offer the guards a drink and Sophia will work her magic. Just be sure to avert your head, look away from the guards when she does.”
Thomas glanced up at the solitary light burning in the darkness.
Kate knew what he was thinking. “I admit, our plan involves some risk, but if we don’t save him, Pip will die. He would want to make the gamble.”
“You are right,” said Thomas. “I will play my part.”
He tugged on his cravat to loosen it, and tossed away his tricorn. Shaking hair over his face, he adjusted the mask. “Cue the dissolute noble.”
Stealthily, the three drew nearer the guardhouse, keeping to the shadows as long as possible in order to watch what the guards were doing. They had no difficulty seeing, for the guard box blazed with light. Lanterns hung over the door and other lanterns shone inside. The guards were talking loudly, Thomas could hear every word.
The two were pitching coins against a wall and he realized with a start that they were discussing plans for the invasion. He raised his hand, warning Kate and Sophia to stop.
“What is it?” Kate whispered.
“I need to hear what they are saying,” Thomas whispered back.
“Your throw,” said one. “So when are we to seize control of the palace?”
“Tonight, tomorrow night, a year from now. What does it matter? We do what we are told.”
“We are the first to risk our lives and the last to know anything,” the other grumbled.
“Loose tongues wag,” said his friend.
He threw the coin. His friend tossed his and won, for his coin came closer to the wall.
“King Ullr knows that none of us would talk,” the other argued. “We have spilled our blood for other nations. Now is the time for Guundar to rise.”
“Damn! I keep missing!” said the other. “I have no luck tonight.”
Thomas had heard all he needed.
“Now,” he said softly.
He slid one arm around Sophia’s waist and the other arm around Kate’s, and the three lurched forward into the light, giggling and talking.
The guards dropped their coins, picked up their rifles, and came to investigate.
Kate and Sophia and Thomas wobbled and slipped on the frosty cobblestones. The three reeked of Calvados.
“Trundler swill,” one guard remarked in disgust. “How anyone can drink that stuff is beyond me.”
His fellow raised his rifle and aimed at them.
“Halt!” he said, speaking broken Freyan. “Stand and be recognized.”
The three stumbled to a stop, leaning against one another and staring at the guards in inebriated confusion.
“You stand and be recognized, my good man,” Thomas said good-naturedly. He released his hold on Kate and Sophia and sauntered forward.
“That’s far enough, my lord,” said the guard.
“I am Count Reginald Fortheringale, friend of the king’s, and I go where I please. It pleases me to take a look around this damn tower.”
Thomas leaned forward to add in a wheedling tone, “I promised the young ladies! You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”
“Gives you the horrors, don’t it, Reggie,” called out one of the women.
The guards glanced at each other, grinning. They lowered their rifles.
“I cannot permit you or the young ladies to enter, my lord,” said one.
Thomas shrugged. “Well, well. You are doing your duty, I dare say. Damn cold, isn’t it,” he added conversationally. “I don’t know how you chaps stand it. Will you have a drink with us? Come, girls. Offer the lads here a swig.”
Kate and Sophia laughingly ran up to the guards.
“It’s good stuff, sir!” Kate said, holding out the jug.
The guard grimaced. “We are not permitted—”
Sophia spoke a word of magic and flung the sachet in his face.
The sachet glowed blue and exploded. The guard happened to have his mouth open at the time and the flour and pepper combination flew down his throat. The flour caught the other guard in the eyes and drifted down on both of them, coating their uniforms.
The guards began to sneeze uncontrollably. One dropped his rifle to rub his burning eyes. The other coughed and retched between sneezes. He was still holding onto his rifle, however. Sophia spoke another word and the flour began to glow green.
“Contramagic,” she warned. “If you have seen what happens when contramagic and magic mix, you know you should drop your weapon before it explodes.”
The green glow of the contramagic grew steadily brighter, and the guard flung his rifle to the ground. Thomas kicked both of the weapons well out of reach.
Sophia ended the spell and the green glow started to fade.
Thomas took hold of one guard and Kate grabbed the other and they shoved them into the small guardhouse.
“On the floor,” Thomas ordered.
Kate had brought rope to bind them, but when she saw several sets of shackles hanging from hooks, she clamped these over their wrists.
As she was working, one of the guards gave her a shove that knocked her backward and jumped to his feet. He got as far as the door. Sophia stood there, blocking his way.
She pointed to his flour-coated sleeve; the flour shone blue and burst into flame.
The guard cried out. Thomas punched him in the face and the man tumbled backward and collapsed by his friend. Kate removed a ring of keys from the hook on the wall.
Sophia continued to block the doorway.
“Your coat is still covered with my magical potion,” she told the Guundarans. “The potion is in your hair and your eyes. If you make a sound, I will turn you both into living torches.”
As the guards shrank away from her, Thomas slammed the door on them and Kate locked it.
“Now what?” Thomas asked.
“We rescue Pip,” Kate answered.