~ Tasha ~

The soldiers came at the crack of dawn. Their shouting from outside woke her, and the urgency with which Oliver shot out of bed and dressed convinced her of the seriousness of the matter. Still half-asleep, she asked him what was going on. “Stay there,” he told her, as he left the room.

Like buggery was she going to stay there.

She threw on yesterday’s clothes, and an overcoat of leather and fur, and scurried down the stairs. Eva met her on the first floor landing, emerging from the staff hallway with bleary eyes in nothing but a thin nightgown bedecked with sewn kittens.

“Lady? I heard shouting—”

Tash ran past Eva without a word. If she stopped to listen to the girl, she might miss the commotion. As soon as she stepped off the carpeted stairs she intook of breath. The floorboards were cool against her bare feet as she went. She’d probably get a splinter or two, and Sesi would have to pull them out for her, but that pain was a secondary concern right now.

Outside, there was a gentle breeze, and a stand-off. A dozen men were stood at the perimeter, with torches and firearms. In the faint orange twilight it was hard to tell which division they belonged to. The only discernible feature of their uniforms was the jacket. All soldiers wore jackets. If these were grey or black or another colour entirely was impossible to say.

Oliver was stood at the gate. Beside him, the household guard were in formation. She could hear the soft, fatherly tones of Jon Sharp, remonstrating with one of the others. “What do you think gives you the right?”

“The Governor’s wish.”

“That’s utter horseshit,” Oliver shouted. “My wife and I dined with the Governor just yesterday evening. I’ve worked closely with the man for months. I know him well. I refuse to believe that he would authorise armed bullies to invade our property.”

In the glow of the torches, Tash saw the leader of the soldiers turn to one of the others and laugh. “Armed bullies?” he said. “That’s a new one.”

“Clearly you don’t know the Governor as well as you think,” said his friend. “Tell you what, Sergeant, I wish the kids who bullied me had been polite enough to stand at the gate until I let them in.”

“Oh, are you being polite?” Oliver’s voice was getting louder. Lights were coming on in the surrounding buildings, people appearing at windows to watch. A pair of women in beige kirtles and white bonnets were stood atop a nearby hillock, watching the events with interest. “So if I tell you to take a hike, you’ll turn around and walk away? Or will you force your way through anyway?”

“We have instructions from the Governor, through the Lord Constable,” said the Sergeant. “You can either grant us access, or hand her over. We will have her either way.”

“I know your type well,” said Jon Sharp.

“I bet you do,” the Sergeant laughed. “A few grey hairs and suddenly you’re wise?”

“You’d best learn your place,” said Jon, sharply. “I’ve fought in more battles than all of you put together, and the likes of you are always the same. The rule of law is just a suggestion for you, something you can push and poke at until it can’t be stretched any further.”

“Here’s a suggestion,” said the Sergeant’s friend. “Stand aside and let us do our job.”

Jon glanced at Oliver, who shook his head. Little Wilkie, a spotty boy who Tash had once caught chatting away with Emmy instead of doing his job, was running a trembling hand over the barrel of his gun, agitated. Don’t do something rash, Tash willed him. Keep your cool.

The Sergeant fidgeted. “This is beginning to turn into a farce. I don’t know if you’re having trouble with how you process language, but our request is a simple one. Hand her over.”

“We will not.” That was Oliver.

“She is suspected of treason,” said the Sergeant. “The law requires us to take her into custody. Article four-seventeen of the Colonial Constabularies act, if you’re unfamiliar.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with the laws, have no fear on that,” said Oliver.

A hand brushed Tasha’s shoulder, and she jumped. Sesi was there. Her copper hair was hanging loose behind her, unusually untidy. “Lady, come inside,” she whispered. Behind her, Eva had wandered as far as the front door. She gasped.

It was clear why. At the gate, Jon Sharp and the others had readied their own firearms. On each side of the wall, a dozen men were positioned ready to kill at the slightest provocation. All it would take was a nervy finger and there would be a bloodbath.

Oliver would be right at the heart of it.

“Lieutenant,” he said, with a quick nod.

“You have no permission to pass,” said Sharp. “If you force your way in, we will readily defend this place at the cost of lives—yours or ours.”

“Article four-twenty,” said Oliver. “I have the right to defend my property.”

Tash had the horrible feeling that it wouldn’t be the soldiers’ lives that were in danger. Jon Sharp was lovely, and a real expert, but he was also old. His fighting days should have been well behind him. His reactions would have surely dulled. And the rest of them were youngsters, earning more pay to guard the Wracks than to earn their stripes in the Unity reserve. They might take a few of the soldiers with them, but not all.

And the ones that survived would turn their guns on Oliver. Oliver, who was unarmed. Oliver, who could not shoot with any accuracy.

The Sergeant looked from Sharp to his gun, and then to Oliver. “There’s no need to turn this into a slaughter,” he said. “None of you are in any trouble. We just want the woman.”

Tash was breathing heavy, then holding it for as long as she could. She could feel Sesi tugging at her, trying to turn her away. She was rapt.

Oliver spoke. “What will you do with her?”

“She’s going to the tower,” the Sergeant replied. “Until she’s been tried. If she’s innocent, she’ll be returned to you, and with a little compensation for your inconvenience. If she’s guilty, she’ll probably die.”

Were they talking about her? What had she done? Maybe she’d been a little coarse towards the Governor’s wife, Oliver had told her she was a touch abrasive, but that shouldn’t warrant being arrested by a whole platoon of armed soldiers. Perhaps she should run away. Now, while she still could. Whatever they wanted her for, they’d have to find her. Essegena was a big place, and empty for the most part. They’d never find her.

“Eva,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off the front wall. “Pack some of my things in a bag, and go to the back of the house.”

“Lady?”

“I’ll meet you there. Quickly, Eva.”

The girl scurried inside. Oliver was still holding firm against the soldiers, two walls of primed cannons waiting for the spark. Just a little longer, she thought. I’ll be gone, and you can let them pass. Then you won’t get hurt.

She took a first step back, very tentative. “Give me five minutes, Sesi, and cause a scene. Whatever it takes to make Oliver stand down.”

He had to stand down. If he didn’t, he’d be a dead man, and she wouldn’t have him dying on her account. She screwed her eyes tight. Perhaps she could telepathically beg him to give up, if she concentrated hard enough. Or perhaps Eva would be along in a second, and she could go. Far away. Either would do.

And then the shot rang out. It was deafeningly loud, somehow louder than when she’d been on the hunt, and the echo lingered longer in the silent air. Tasha’s heart sank in an instant. This was the flashpoint. The end of it.

But no slaughter broke out. A second shot followed, and one of the guards on the wall beside Oliver slumped. And then there was only a leaden silence. The hideous screams of the fallen guard were its only punctuation. It was Little Wilkie, she saw, when she looked closer.

“That wasn’t necessary,” said Jon Sharp.

“He fired first,” said the Sergeant. “He chose his fate. Now, will you let us pass, or will you continue with this pretence at righteousness?”

Oliver sighed, and pushed Sharp’s gun down. “Stand down,” Sharp said, and the simultaneous relaxed outtake of breath from all present was palpable. In unison, Oliver’s guards lowered their rifles.

“I’ll be speaking to the Governor,” said Oliver, as the soldiers walked past. “I won’t let this stand.”

Tash ran forward, into the path of the soldiers. It was a clumsy move, desperation, but she couldn’t let anybody else get hurt. It was better to let them catch her now.

“Move aside.” The Sergeant’s voice was stern. Tasha blinked, dumbfounded. Move aside. If the Sergeant wanted her to move aside… well, then it couldn’t have been her they were after. But if they hadn’t come for her, then who?

She stood her ground. “What do you want?”

Oliver yelled at her from the wall. “Tash, get out of the way. I told you to stay upstairs.”

She ignored her husband. She put her hands on her hips in her best impression of the strict mother she’d grown up with. “Tell me what you want. Then I’ll move.”

“Your cook is under arrest,” said the Sergeant.

“Arrest? What for?” She sounded confident, she knew. She didn’t feel confident. She just hoped the Sergeant didn’t notice her trembling beneath the overcoat.

“She poisoned the Governor’s wife,” said the Sergeant’s friend. “Tried to kill the Governor too.”

She’s a dangerous criminal.” The Sergeant shoved her aside and carried on past.

Tash deflated. No. Not Stini. Mam Argent was always polite, always friendly. She was a far remove from the sort who would murder people. What possible grievance could she have against the Governor?

She’d served the same food for Tash too. Tash and Oliver. They could have died.

No, Stini wouldn’t do that.

If she kept repeating it, she could keep believing it. She had to keep believing it. Otherwise it meant Stini Argent wanted her dead. Stini wouldn’t want her dead. Stini couldn’t. She was good to her staff, kind.

Suddenly Sesi was with her, escorting her inside. “It’s okay, Lady, it’s just a misunderstanding.” She wanted to cry, but crying wouldn’t help things. She didn’t really know what would. Nobody had ever told her what to do in this situation. Not Mother, not her teachers, not even Sesi with her many lessons. Why had nobody told her what to do?

The ground felt like it was giving way beneath her. She slumped against Sesi, the feeling gone in her feet. Her legs were weak. If I lie down, I’ll go to sleep. If I go to sleep, I’ll wake up, and this will all have been a nightmare. Tema was the one who had night terrors. Tash had always laughed at her for it.

Suddenly, Oliver was there, holding her up. He practically carried her inside, him and Sesi. She was a passenger. A spectator.

And she couldn’t look away.

As they carried her through the hallway, a shrill scream rang out from the kitchen. The open door gave a partial view of everything that was happening inside. Half a dozen of the soldiers were there. Two of them had Stini, holding her hands behind her back. As they escorted her out of the kitchen, so Nickie came at them, looking for all the world like an asylum patient clad in only a silk nightgown sewn with pictures of songbirds in starfire groves. She had half a loaf of bread in her hand. She hit the soldiers with it, over and over again. Each time she screamed a little louder. The hits did nothing.

Another of the soldiers pulled Nickie away from them, bundled her to the ground. He stood with his foot on her midriff, his musket pointed at her head. Even from the hallway Tash could see that she was sobbing.

Stini, to her credit, was not. She was silent and stony-faced, and walked in pace with the soldiers. Even when she passed, and Tash called out to her, she didn’t speak. She didn’t even turn her head.

Through all this, the Sergeant was stood casually on the first step, yelling instructions. His words didn’t make it through as far as Tash; to her, they were just noise. What she did register was his smirking. He wouldn’t be smirking if she took his head off. And wouldn’t that be justice?

The Sergeant was the last of the soldiers to leave the house. Before he left, he fixed Oliver with a stare. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? How’s about next time you let us do the job we’re supposed to do and nobody gets hurt.” He was gone before they had a chance to respond.

Tash wanted to run after him, but Oliver held her back. “No, Tash. Leave it. It’s just the heat of the blood, it won’t achieve a thing.” Even if he’d let her go, she wouldn’t have made it very far. Her legs still didn’t have the strength to run. As soon as Oliver let go of her, she fell to the floor.

And there she stayed.

With the soldiers gone, for a long while nobody spoke. Tash was glad of that. She didn’t feel like talking. Outside, the screams of Little Wilkie were still ringing out occasionally, weaker now than they had been. They sounded almost pitiful. She watched Oliver slip out, and let him go. It wasn’t worth the effort to make him stay, no matter how much she wanted to have him with her.

“What’s going on down here? I heard shots.” Goodwife Mabeth had appeared, belatedly, at the top of the stairs. Either she wore a corset beneath her nightclothes, or she’d taken the time to fully dress before going to investigate.

“They took her,” said someone, her voice a hideous wail. “They took Mam Argent.” Tash realised that it was her that was speaking.

Goodwife Mabeth hurried down the stairs and crouched down beside Tash. She stroked Tash’s head with a soft finger, like her grandmother when she was sick. “You’re pale, Lady,” she said. “You should rest.”

Nickie whimpered from the kitchen. Sesi vanished to investigate, and little Eva wandered after. Tash was left alone with Goodwife Mabeth, and there she was happy to stay. Goodwife Mabeth brought calmness. She was the personification of assurance, the rare woman whose mere presence made everything lighter. If only Tash were a child still, she could burrow herself in Goodwife Mabeth’s arms and be rocked to sleep.

Everything was easier when she was a child.

She ran a hand along the hillock of her abdomen, letting little Jem trace his thoughts onto her palm. You’ll never have to cry, she promised him. You’ll never be upset, or afraid. Your life will be perfect.

There was an old piano in the quiet room, in the family home. The wood was mahogany, and bore the signature of a famous composer etched into it. Half of the keys were gone. The thing hadn’t been tuned in over a century, but it had always remained the centrepiece of their family evenings. Mother would light a candle, and place it atop the piano where the candid photographs and vases of flowers lived. Long into the evening, for as long as the candle still burned and the smell of lavender and warm dough permeated the room, they would all sit and talk together.

How many nights had Mother sat in the shadow of that old piano, enraptured by the perfect scent, promising the world to Tasha? No woman ever set out to be a bad parent to the child she carried. Stini Argent’s mother didn’t spend nine months awaiting the birth of her very own miniature murderer, nor did she vow that her daughter would be falsely imprisoned. Surely she’d have sworn to make her child’s life a happy one, and the Darkness take anybody who stood in her way. If she had, she’d failed. Stini Argent would be spending tonight in a cell.

But wasn’t it better to fail to keep a promise than to never make it in the first place?

With the last of her strength Tash took herself into the solar, and collapsed into a soft sofa there. Even if she’d wanted to stand again, she’d not have been able to. Her legs had turned to jelly. She felt numb, woozy. Not Stini.

Sesi sat with her, and Eva too. All of the first floor staff. In normal circumstances, Tash would have reprimanded them for being presumptuous enough to sit themselves down in her solar. Right now she didn’t feel that it mattered. She was glad of the company.

A couple of the guards had filed in too, hats off and buttons undone in various combinations. Lanky Millington leaned against the wall, muttering bitterly to himself. “Bastards,” he was saying. “Bloody bastards.” His surcoat was stained with Little Wilkie’s blood, from where he’d tried to administer aid.

Poor Nickie was faring even worse than Tasha. The girl was curled up in a cocoon at the corner of the room, rocking herself in her peals of silent sobbing. Emmy was sat with her offering some words of comfort, but there was no evidence Nickie could hear. Stini was her closest friend, her ticket to Essegena in the first place. She’d seen her carried away right before her eyes, and had a gun pointed at her to boot. No wonder she was cowering in the corner. Anybody would be, given the circumstances.

It was mid-morning, and the sun was firing warm light into the room, when Tasha was next aware of her surroundings. She must have dozed off. Nickie was still in the corner, she saw, but she’d sat herself up now. Millington sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Emmy and Eva sat silently. Goodwife Mabeth was bustling about, the only person in the room who looked ready for the day. At some point she’d taken the time to put on her face and tidy her hair, and she’d liberated a tray of cakes from the kitchen, which she was carrying around the room, handing out to everybody there.

“Not what you’re used to, Lady,” she said, when she got to Tash. “I followed Mam Argent’s recipe as close as I could manage, but I’m no cook.”

Tash took a cake. It was golden brown, thoroughly crisped, and it held firm against her attempts to bite at it. “It’s lovely, Goodwife Mabeth, thank-you.”

“There’s no need for thankings, Lady. I’m just doing what I was hired to do. Your Aunt Danyer had a sweet tooth too, you know. She loved her cakes, almost as much as she loved you.”

Tash laughed. “Jaina always got mad at me and Tema, when Aunt Danyer came to visit. She used to spend all this time making the fanciest sweets, and we’d break into the kitchen and pilfer it. Jaina used to chase me through the gardens with a rolling pin. I think I’d have been scared of her, but we knew she’d never use it. Father wouldn’t have stood for it.”

Goodwife Mabeth’s warm smile grew stretched. “Your father was a fearsome man when he wanted to be. Danyer always said she wasn’t afraid of him, but she wouldn’t ever let me join her on her visits.”

“Well, why should you?” Goodwife Mabeth looked hurt at the remark, so Tasha elaborated. “Meaning no offense, Goodwife Mabeth, but you were Aunt Danyer’s maidservant. It’s usual practice for the staff to stay behind, to keep the house ticking over.”

“Tasha, sweetheart, you must remember growing up. Half of your house was boarded up, because your father couldn’t afford to keep it heated. He could barely afford a cook, let alone a staff. I waived my wage entirely when I came to work for him. How did you think Danyer was able to pay for a maidservant?”

“She was family. My parents wouldn’t let her go without.”

Goodwife Mabeth shook her head. “I fell in love with Danyer when we were girls together. She was in love with me too, I think, though it took her a bit longer.”

“You were lovers?”

Goodwife Mabeth nodded.

Tash found herself thinking back to childhood, and Aunt Danyer’s visits. She always came alone, and she always seemed unhappy about it. Father would always ask if she’d found a husband yet. She never did. Once, Tash had overheard Danyer and her mother, talking in hush tones in a quiet part of the house. “I’ll never marry a man, not ever,” her aunt had said. “Nicolas knows this. He must know.” At the time, Tash had assumed Aunt Danyer wanted to live her own life. After all, to the eleven-year-old girl Tash was then, the idea of getting married was anathema. Better to be by herself, and do what she wanted to do. Only later had boys gained an appeal. By then that hushed conversation was far from her mind.

Suddenly it all made sense. “I never realised. Aunt Danyer was attracted to women.”

“Danyer never so much as glanced at me sexually,” said Goodwife Mabeth, shaking her head. “I think she just liked my company.”

“Why did we never know about you? Aunt Danyer always told us you were her ladiesmaid.”

Goodwife Mabeth laughed a sad laugh. “Your father couldn’t bear anything that didn’t fit with his view of the world. Danyer introduced me to him once, before you were born. She still lived in the family home then. Well, your father made it quite plain that I wouldn’t be welcome. If Danyer were to continue seeing me, she’d have to live elsewhere. I think he thought she’d cave. To be honest, I thought she would too. But Tasha, she told him where he could stuff his ideas, and she moved out the same day. Sure, life was a pinch for a while, but it was a bearable pinch. Never have I known a person to be so brave as Danyer was that day. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was, who she loved, and she stood up for it, even though it cost her her ancestral home, very nearly her family.”

Tasha shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Father wouldn’t have been bothered by that. The man who lived next door, Terry Unsworth, he married another man. My father was the biggest supporter of their marriage. He gave the speech.”

“It wasn’t my being a woman that upset him,” said Goodwife Mabeth. “I was a scullery maid born to a whore mother and an unknown father. He thought me beneath his sister. I had to beg and plead before he’d let me go into service to your family, after Danyer passed away, but she loved you and your brother, and she wanted me to be sure you were both well. I’m your aunt too, technically speaking.”

“Sister,” said Tash. “Tema’s my sister.”

Goodwife Mabeth smiled. “So she did find herself. Danyer would be proud.”

Tash screwed her eyes tight. “Goodwife Mabeth, I was cruel to Tema. I was mean to her. She won’t talk to me, she won’t see me. I’ve messed up proper.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Tasha. The two of you are family. Whatever’s been said or done, you’ll mend. I know it.”

Goodwife Mabeth resumed her circuit of the room, feeding Eva with plenty of the cakes. Tash thought sadly of Aunt Danyer for a time, and tried to imagine a world where Goodwife Mabeth had been welcomed into the family. Aunt Danyer would still be alive now, for one. It was a respiratory infection that killed her, from mold in her potting shed. At the Caerlin house, she’d never have fallen ill.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by heavy footsteps on the wooden hallway, and a second later the door opened. Oliver was there, with Jon Sharp beside him, both men looking gloomy. Tash propelled herself to her feet with a vigour she’d have thought impossible a few minutes earlier, and ran across the room into his arms. He buckled under her weight. “We’ve talked about this, sweetling. You’re too heavy.”

“Where were you, Oliver? I was lonely.”

“I’ve spoken to the Lord Constable,” he said, setting her down. “Believe me, I had some choice words to say to him. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Clifford, but the man’s arrogant and condescending and impossible to cow. Mam Argent’s not coming back, Tash, not for a while at least.”

“Oliver...”

“I quoted every law I could, tried to argue from every angle I could think of. I had an idea to pull rank, but that’s not possible. I’m in a different pillar of command altogether. Clifford doesn’t have to listen to a word I say, and he knows it. It didn’t matter to him that an innocent woman’s life was being ruined, it was all a big joke. I said I’d be speaking to the Governor. He told me to go ahead. Said he’s known the Governor far longer than I have, and at any rate he was only acting on the Governor’s instructions. We’ll see what the Governor has to say, but I don’t see there’s a case for Mam Argent to answer.” Oliver reached into the pocket of his surcoat and took out a grubby copperhead, which he pressed into Tasha’s hand. “He had the nerve to give me this. Compensation, he said, for the man who was shot. Wilkie’s worth more than a copperhead. Everybody here is.”

Oliver swivelled on his feet and strode out of the door. Tash saw him thundering up the stairs, no doubt to their chambers. She made to follow, but Jon Sharp stuck out a hand to block her.

“I’d leave him a time, my Lady,” he said. “Let him gather his thoughts. The Lord Constable got to him, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen Oliver so angry.”

Tasha shook her head in mute agreement. Oliver didn’t get angry. She did. She was emotional, he always told her that. But Oliver was the sort to swallow his fury, and distil it into a fearsome motivation. One way or another he’d find a way to bring Stini home. He’d not even needed to promise it. She just knew he would.