Author's Nightmare: Interlude 7 (Patreon)

It was cold out, but the snow had stopped. That left Elizabeth miserable, exposed, and without the reduced visibility she’d have enjoyed from having the air clotted with debris. About the perfect conditions to not be infiltrating Byror’s mansion on, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She should know. She’d begged a lot. 

As far as mansions went, Byror’s was on the larger side. Ordinarily that meant it was easier to get into all things being equal, but all else was not equal today. It was practically sweating guards. Elizabeth gave her best go at counting them, but gave up somewhere around the fiftieth. 

She circled it, hugging her clothes- thick and warm, thankfully- tight to herself as she searched the place for any possible flaw. There seemed to be none. Clearly Lord Byror was one used to staving off malfeasance from his enemies, for he’d taken no chances in the defences of his home. Elizabeth was just starting to consider heading back to report a failure when she caught sight of the guards outside starting to turn back to the mansion.

Odd, that. She closed in more, studied them harder, and saw more and more of them fall back into the building as if they were…

As if they were hurrying to respond to some disaster. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Looked like Solitaire had gotten the hint. 

She moved fast- not as fast as Beam could, now, damnit- and scaled the outer fence. It was one of those expensive ones, wrought from iron with hagged barbs covering it. Her new clothing took care of that though. An inch of quilted wool staved off the tearing hooks of metal and saw her safely over it. Then she was running. 

Elizabeth had always been a sprinter, and always the best she knew. It was over a hundred yards from fence to mansion, but she crossed the distance within ten heartbeats and slipped inside as quiet as a cat. 

Nice place. Well decorated, expensive. Elizabeth felt irritated, for a moment, that she was on business too important to justify taking a break to loot the mansion of its valuables. She settled for wiping her shoes on the most expensive rug she could find, then took off again. 

Shango hadn’t been able to find actual plans of the mansion, and with Solitaire captured they’d not even been able to test his bizarre, numerical magic on scrying her destination from the outside, but Elizabeth had been in enough mansions of similar design that she wasn’t entirely lost. Mostly, it was just trial and error. Which meant her success would depend on how long the distraction lasted. And no small amount of luck. 

There were more guards around, still, than she’d have liked, but Elizabeth slipped them by without much trouble. If nothing else the escapade was a good lesson on why exactly her bosses had insisted on everyone living and working in such a small section of the Velaharo Mansion, the idea of securing the entire thing was made more impossible with each step she took. Eventually Elizabeth came to the living areas, and wasted no time in barging past one door and another in search of the prize.

By luck alone, she reached him with only her fourth attempt. Elizabeth stepped in to find a large room, floor littered with toys that each looked more expensive than everything she had on her. A little boy was lying in a large bed, fast asleep. 

He looked so peaceful. Innocent, as all children were, and utterly oblivious to what was happening around him. Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat, suddenly struck by the urge to turn and abandon her job. 

But she couldn’t. Not now. Steeling her nerves, she headed in and gently raised the boy into her arms. He was so very young and small that even she could manage his weight without much effort, but she still hurried on her way out. As she was now, Elizabeth wasn’t nearly as confident about out-running any pursuit as she’d have preferred to be. Better to not need to.

Elizabeth was like a gust of wind sweeping through the corridors, and she’d almost gotten out of the mansion when the mass of guards caught her eye. She froze, huddled behind a wall, glanced at the child to make sure he was still asleep, then studied them. Among the men, snarling and occasionally thrashing, remained Solitaire.

He was hurt badly, face littered with bruises and crusting blood, hands skinned raw where they’d been mashed into other men’s skulls. By the looks of things he’d done more than just cause a distraction. No wonder so many of the guards had left their posts.

Disaster, a guard started turning for her. Then another. Elizabeth’s mind blanked as panic struck away her thoughts, freezing her in place, leaving her to do nothing but await discovery. The only way for her to run was back- which would only trap her in the other end of the mansion. If she was to cross the grounds with a child in her arms she’d need to take the shortest route, and the only path to the exit leading there was ahead. It was over.

Then Solitaire punched one of them. The man’s feet actually left the ground for a moment, then the rest tackled her boss all over. Elizabeth stared for a single second before hurrying to the window and leaving through it. She realized what had happened only when cool winds hit her.

Solitaire’s little attack had been timed too perfectly for a coincidence. Somehow he’d known she was there, and done the exact right thing at the exact right instant to let her leave. He hadn’t even glanced her way. Sometimes that man was bloody frightening. 

The boy stirred in Elizabeth’s arms, cold threatening to wake him where motion hadn’t, and she sped up. By the time she was at the fence, he was stirring. Elizabeth reached down for its base and set up her little mechanism. First the thick furs over the metal, to protect her cargo, then the ropes strewn over and knotted at the base. She bound the boy in a makeshift hammock and climbed over, pulling him back after her by levering his weight over the fence itself. He woke midway into the fall, but she caught him and sprinted off before anything could come of it. 

Elizabeth was faster than a carriage, even with the boy slung over her shoulder. Carrying him all the way, though, tired her. By the time she reached the Velaharo Manor and found Helena and Arthur ready to escort her in, she was sweating so profusely that her skin shuddered like a creaking oak at every gust it caught. 

Both of them saw the kid, and Helena in particular seemed almost disbelieving. Neither said anything though, just took her to Shango. 

By then the boy seemed confused and growing increasingly close to upset, which only worsened as Elizabeth left him in the small room they’d agreed would be his temporary quarters. Shango was with her soon enough. 

“You managed to get him.” He noted. His voice was blank, face blanker still, eyes blankest of all. Like a corpse, as if everything around him were nothing more than some idle fact to be catalogued and considered for use. It made Elizabeth shiver, but she suppressed it. Showing weakness went against her every instinct even more than keeping calm while Shango stared at her like a blunted tool he was deciding whether to repair or discard. 

“I did.” Elizabeth replied, surprised by the venom in her voice. “And I don’t want you to ever ask me to do something like this again.”

She’d thought she could do it. She’d thought; oh, it was just some rich boy, some spoiled little brat. How hard could it be? Then she’d felt the panic take him as he realised he was surrounded by strange faces and no parents. Felt his tiny body wrestling for freedom as she handed it off. She wasn’t going to feel that more than once.

“You won’t have to.” Shango replied at last. “We only needed this as leverage, and only because the enemy has hostages too.”

The enemy. It made her skin crawl to hear the phrase used so casually. Were they at war, now? Elizabeth barely stopped herself from bolting then and there. Barely stopped herself for Solitaire.

Elizabeth headed for the door, as much to give herself an excuse not to look at Shango as to leave.

“Is this going to save Solitaire?” She asked. 

Her boss paused a moment. 

“I can’t know for sure.”