Chapter 19: Sausage Dogs
Amy sent for the kitchen staff to ferry me down to the drawing room by sedan chair. And I stewed inside my head the whole time. I had to let Amy know that we were asking her to expose herself to more danger. I didn’t like it. And calling on Vincent, that tied Agartha to this debacle. I might be able to ask Lynn to help. But I wasn’t sure if she would, or would turn me in. And either way, I didn’t want to expose Lynn to danger any more than I wanted to expose Amy to danger.
I didn’t know what I was going to do.
The usual suspects occupied the drawing room. My mother and my aunt were chatting in one corner. Both wore bustled dresses with fitted bodices. My mother wore seafoam. My aunt wore lavender. Lynn and her father were playing chess in another corner. Her father again wore a black jacket and waistcoat. Lynn wore a pastel green empire cut dress with pastel pink edging. And Great Aunt Cecile was reading a book in her favorite wingback chair. She wore another sack-back gown, this one in auburn. One thing that I did know I would do, was embroider a handkerchief for Amy. I had brought materials down with me. Embroidery was an accepted practice for ladies looking to spend time relaxing. Nobody took note of me. I set about embroidering a handkerchief with an English ivy vine winding across it. The ivy motif seemed important to her family after all. As I worked, my mind wandered back to the problem of my father’s study.
As I was ruminating, Manfred entered the drawing room. An olive-skinned woman walked beside him. She dressed in dark blue trousers and a loose rose quartz colored blouse. She wore a duck blue clawhammer jacket with obsidian brooches on either side of the collar. She wore black riding boots under her trousers. The woman carried a miniature dachshund. The dog looked about six pounds at most. Its tail wagged like the propeller of a plane.
Manfred stepped forward, “Presenting the Lady Cora Myrddhin for the Lady Karen Octavian.”
I looked up in surprise as the woman, Cora Myrddhin, stepped forward. She set the dog on the floor, and then she bowed to myself and my uncle.
“Lady Ren,” Cora said, “the Countess Fiona Myrrdhin requests your assent to court you. She has sent me with the traditional Scythian sign of courtship, the gift of a dog. His name is Quincy. He is housebroken. And he knows both his name and the commands of sit, stay, here, and roll over.”
My uncle looked at Quincy, then he shook his head, “Can we accept the offer of courtship and decline the dog?”
Cora shook her head, “The Countess says that they are a single gift. To refuse the dog would be to refuse the offer of courtship.”
Uncle grimaced, and then nodded, “Very well. I accept the dog into my home, assuming my niece accepts the dog into her care and the countess’ offer of courtship.”
I blushed, and nodded, “I accept both.”
I raised the pitch of my voice and called, “Quincy, here.”
Quincy turned towards me. I slapped my lap and repeated the command, “Quincy, here!”
The little dog broke into a joyful gallop and ran to me. I picked him up and he wiggled so much that I struggled to not drop him. Instead, I aimed the dog at my lap. Quincy accepted my lap and nestled into the folds of my dress. When he finished, only a black little behind and wagging tail remained visible.
Uncle looked at me with a crinkled brow and a frown.
“Karen, you hate dogs.”
Of course. I’d forgotten how terrible the writers had made the rival. Of course, she hated dogs. I loved dogs, but now I needed to come up with an explanation.
“Any gift from the countess is a joy that I will treasure.” I said. Let them think I was faking it to keep my suitor happy. I didn’t care.
Lynn shook her head, then smiled, “Ren, this is good for you. Fiona is good for you. You’ve delivered your apology. Now help the family by focusing on your courting.”
I looked at Lynn. I knew her expressions. And when I looked, her expression read: please. I tried to think of a response that would put her mind at ease but wouldn’t be a lie.
The lady Cora spoke again, “I also have a message from Count Metternich. He would be happy to join you, he can meet you after we finish the afternoon tea.”
I nodded, “Tell the countess thank you for both gifts. And thank the count for being able to meet on short notice.”
Cora nodded, “If that is all, I will take my leave.”
“It is.”
Lady Myrddhin left and Lynn glared at me, “Why are you meeting the count?”
My mind raced. What could I say?
“I’m keeping myself busy and not getting in your way. He doesn’t hate me, unlike most other people who know me. And you aren’t keeping him busy. So, he’s free.”
Lynn narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe me. At least I doubted that she believed me. But she looked away before I could add anything.
“Fine,” She said. “Have fun.”
* * *
I busied myself with nonsense until afternoon tea concluded. Quincy whirled around my feet as I went about my business, begging for attention. The little dog made almost no sound, whimpering when I neglected to scratch his head. To say that Quincy caused a stir would be an understatement. The rival’s dislike of dogs was well known. My sedan chair moved through the halls of Castle Octavian. With Quincy following along, family and staff alike commented.
“Is that Lady Karen, with a dog?”
“I heard her new suitor gave it. So, she’s making nice.”
“She seems to actually like it.”
“No. She enjoys being courted.”
“The dog is cute though.”
“I don’t want to be the one cleaning up after it though.”
I let people talk. They would realize that, if nothing else, I liked this dog. For his part, Quincy puttered along like a duckling following his mother. He kept up with me, shadowing me, his little legs a blur.
Immediately after tea finished, Vincent arrived. We met in the drawing room. I sat in a corner waiting as Vincent arrived. He presented himself to my uncle first, and then approached me. He wore a white poet’s shirt with a rose cravat wrapped around his throat. He'd pinned his cravat with an opal tie pin depicting a butterfly. He also wore two pairs of silver huggie-style earrings. He wore black boots and breeches and a gainsboro gray frock coat.
“Greetings, lady Ren. Your letter was quite cryptic. It intrigued me but confused me. Do you need me to do something?”
“Vincent, thank you for coming. You look good. I like the cravat. How are you?”
“I’m somewhat at loose ends, for obvious reasons. So, I was happy to answer your letter. What can I do for you?”
“I’m going to ask you a favor. I will owe you. I will owe you big. This is dangerous to you. This is dangerous for Agartha. I would do this myself. I would, but,” I gestured to my legs and then to my sedan chair. “Look at me. I had a bloody vision, and nothing is working right. I’m weak as a chemotherapy patient. I can’t walk. I can’t even stand. Until my body recovers from my vision, I’m useless.”
“What’s a chemotherapy? Wait, Is that a dachshund?” Vincent asked.
I blinked, then I nodded, “This is Quincy.”
Quincy burst free from my lap and scampered to Vincent. He bent and patted the little dog.
“I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“I didn’t. Fiona sent him over.”
“Oh!” Vincent broke into a wide smile, “Congratulations! I hadn’t even realized that you were taking suitors.”
“I wasn’t looking for suitors. That said, I’m surprised you knew what the dog meant.” I admitted.
“Oh, Fiona courted me six years ago. Her mother was Countess then, and Yssian ambassador to Agartha. Wallace, the wolfhound she sent me, is back home.”
“What happened?”
“Her mother died, and Fiona returned to Ys and took over as the new Countess. She didn’t have time to continue courting. And then my aunt ordered me to join the Agarthan Embassy in Hyperborea. Carrying on our courtship became impossible. I still pine for her though.”
Crap. Was Vincent going to be a rival for me? I didn’t like that thought, and decided to change the subject.
“Are you willing to listen to my request?”
“Of course.”
“No. It isn’t an ‘of course.’ I need your promise that even if you turn me down, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Why?
“Nope. That promise is the price of admission. I need it before I tell you anything.”
“You can’t tell me anything?” He asked.
I considered, “I can tell you there have been two attempts on my life since I learned what I know.”
“Right, that isn’t concerning at all.”
“I’m trying to warn you. If I read you into this, they’ll know. And you won’t be able to avoid getting involved. This is your last chance to walk away. But.”
“But?”
“What I am going to ask you to do will help to protect myself and Fiona. And I suspect it will help protect Lynn and may protect both Ys and Agartha. Although that last one is a pure hunch at this point.”
“This is all so ominous,” Vincent said, “Are you sure you aren’t being melodramatic?
“Fiona killed six attackers the night before last. The morning of the same day she killed an attacking werewolf.
He stared for a moment, and then shook his head. “Of course. So, it's not melodramatic enough, especially not if you saw Fiona fight.”
I nodded.
He smiled, “You know I taught her to fight.”
“What?”
“I’m joking. She learned from the house Metternich weapons master. And house Myrddin’s own master, of course. We learned together. And she is a much more competent warrior than I am.”
I looked at him deadpan, “Cute.”
“I thought it was funny.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you did. Now were you willing to make the promise, or do we stop here?”
“Is there a benefit to me in this?”
“No,” I said, “Doing this will help Fiona. It will help me. It will help Ys. It will mean that Agartha doesn’t have to deal with a war. But nothing I can think of for you .”
He smiled and shook his head, “No, nothing for me at all. I get a chance to help an old friend. I get an opportunity to help my kingdom and a friendly neighboring kingdom.”
“You won’t get a princess or a useful marriage from this. You won’t get a reward. You might get expelled from Ys. You might help start a war.”
He nodded, “I’m in. Should we get this done then?"”
“Think it over.”
“I did.”
“Then do it longer than a single breath.”
“I promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone who doesn’t already know without your say so.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I trust you.”
“You know my reputation,” I said. “You shouldn’t trust me.”
“You slapped Wulfric. That means we see eye to eye on at least one thing. Fiona trusts you, or she wouldn’t be courting you. And I trust her. So I will trust you. Does that work?
I nodded, “Yes. That works.”
“So, what’s going on?”
“I went to the Hyperborean embassy to deliver my apology, and a werewolf attacked Fiona and I. Fiona killed it. And we recognized its human form as Prince Wulfric’s bodyguard- Ragnar. When we searched him, he had a service badge for House Octavian. We had my maid use her object read gift to trace the badge back to who had given it to the Hyperboreans. And that search led us to my father’s study. Since learning that I have had a vision of my life falling apart and Yssian Marines attacking Lynn. And the six men attacked us. They wore common clothes but expensive boots.”
“Okay. Um wow. That is a lot.”
“There is more. That’s only the bullet points.”
“Bullet what?”
“It means: the short version. Never mind. The point is that there is more. The dead werewolf was using the service badge to take deliveries to Castle Octavian. The Hyperboreans are smuggling items into Ys through Castle Octavian. We don’t know what those items are, and we don’t know the purpose of those items. But I would bet against it being a surprise birthday party.”
“This sounds bad. They could be preparing for an invasion. They could be planning to assist in a coup. They could be planning to engage in a guerilla war campaign. They could do all sorts of terrible things.”
“I need you to help my personal maid search through my father’s study. She will search. I want a sword arm present, so she doesn’t get hurt if somebody catches her.”
“That may not be necessary. You called on a man with a gift. I have the clairvoyance mystic gift. I can take a look in there now if you like. We don’t even have to move. Just tell me when.”
“This feels too convenient. What’s the catch?”
“Well, I’m unconscious while my gift is active. I’ve learned not to do it anywhere somebody could try to talk with me. I can’t see or hear anything back here while I’m using my gift. And it takes a lot out of me. I eat twice to three times as much after using my power. If I don’t, I’ll lose weight in a matter of days.”
“And you’re willing to use it for me right now?”
“It seems safer than a servant and a foreign noble sneaking into your father’s study.” Vincent said.
“I agree,” I said, then added, “Thank you.”
“Thank me when I’m done. A lot can go wrong doing this.”
“Like what?”
“Later,” Vincent said, “I’m going in.”
He closed his eyes. But before the lids shut, I saw his eyes go completely black.
I watched and waited. Amy began her drink rounds.
She reached us, and asked, “Would either of you like a drink? Your Excellency, are you well?”
I kept my voice low, “He’s using his gift, clairvoyance. We’re following up with your investigation.”
“Oh. Well, do you know what the count drinks?” Amy asked.
“He drank scotch at the party,” I said.
Amy pouted for a half second, “I don’t have scotch with me. I’ll go get some. Should I leave you a red wine before I go? Or a brandy?”
“Red wine please.”
Amy put down a glass of red wine. Quincy wiggled over to Amy and sat before her.
“Who is this darling?” She giggled.
I smiled, “This is Quincy. The countess sent him over. This was the traditional gift of courting she mentioned.”
“He’s a sweetie!” She gushed. She paused to scratch behind Quincy’s ears.
“Stop lollygagging!” Mildred hollered from across the room.
Amy winced and straightened. She moved to leave.
“Wait!” I said.
I reached out and clasped her hand. She looked at me. I squeezed her hand and smiled at her.
“Thank you, Amy.”
She smiled back and then slipped out of the room. I sat nursing the red wine while I waited for Amy to return or for Vincent to snap out of his trance. Nobody appeared to have noticed Vincent using his gift. Not that it would be horrifying, but it would raise questions.
Time seems to move slower when you are waiting for something with nothing else to do. The wait focused my mind on what I lacked and its slow inevitable approach. I could feel this. I watched my father and uncle talk over a game of dominoes. I watched as my aunt and my mother gossiped with great aunt Cecile. I traced the cracks in the paint on the walls, tiny little spider webs in the corners of the room.
Where was Amy? What was Vincent doing?
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Vincent asked.
I looked back at Vincent, startled by his sudden return, “The good news I guess.”
“Your father made a classic mistake in protecting his secrets.”
“And the bad news?”
“He still protected his secrets. Your dad used warding dust on one bookshelf at the back of the room, and another on a safe in the floor under his desk.”
“Meaning what?” I asked.
“Meaning I can’t see inside either the bookshelf or the safe. But it means that we know where he hid his secrets.”
“Crap.” I answered.
“Your excellency, I brought you a scotch. Lady Ren recalled you enjoying one at the party. I can get you something else if you prefer.”
“This will be lovely, thank you.”
“Amy,” I said, “I have a dangerous favor to ask of you.”
“What sort of favor, Lady Ren?” Amy answered.
“A follow up to what you discovered earlier. A search of that location.”
Amy shook a little, then steadied herself, “Of course Lady Ren.”
“Amy,” I said, pausing between words, “I’m asking you. I’m not telling you. If you aren’t comfortable doing this, I don’t want you to do it. I’m not sure I want you to do it, period. But you’re the best person for the job.”
“Tell me when. I’ll do it.”
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