Obsidian Eyes (18 page)

“So how do you tell it where you want to go? Does he have a programmed route, like the other week?” Allie leaned back, one hand on Soiron’s rump as they talked.

“No.” Zeb pushed his top hat up his brow. “I use this device.” He indicated the slender brass pole attached to the back of Thumper’s neck. “I move it forward for more momentum, back for less and from side to side for steering.”

Thumper halted, backed up and turned in a circle while Zeb narrated the movements he made with his hands.

“Once I have tested the defensive devices, I will install a way of making them accessible from a main control panel.”

“Not far now,” Jared called as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

Zeb continued to tell Allie about his many projects. He even gave an impromptu history lesson about the school and the surrounding York countryside.

They continued at a relaxed pace, the horses quiet now they had spent all the excess energy, unconcerned by Thumper and its strange rocking gait. The beaten earth road took one more turn and revealed the village through the surrounding oaks, elms, and beech. It looked picture book perfect with old stone buildings covered in rambling ivy, wisteria, and roses. The village managed to depict ramshackled and charming in one glance.

“You certainly stay off the beaten path for parts,” Allie observed.

“Craftsmen in larger towns talk. Father and I spread our components amongst a number of workers in small villages like this. It stops any one person piecing together our project,” Zeb explained.

They passed the first few buildings. On closer inspection, mortar worked loose in the bricks and birds looking for nesting material raided thatching. The buildings deteriorated piece-by-piece, and would eventually fall back into the surrounding earth.

This town looks down on its luck.

Two grubby children with gaunt faces ran at their stirrups until Jared tossed them a coin. They scrabbled in the dirt over the prize.

“This would never happen in Scotland,” he muttered under his breath. “The laird would ensure roofs were mended and the children had at least one meal a day.”

“Perhaps the lord is also down on his luck,” Allie said.

Jared’s fingers curled around his reins. “More likely too busy plotting how to divide up England with his cronies.”

Allie frowned. “What do you mean? King William rules England.”

“But he is not long for this world. The English throne is ripe for the picking.”

“Princess Victoria will take the throne.” Politics had never interested her, but it rankled to hear Victoria dismissed before she ever had a chance to prove herself.

“She is a girl, a minor, and untested. In Scotland birth alone does not guarantee a throne. At best Victoria will be used as a pawn or a puppet, at worst—” his words trailed off as they neared their destination.

The smithy was obvious by the smoke rising from the workshop and the sound of hammer hitting steel from within. A solid hitching rail ran the length of the shop’s front veranda and the horses halted in front of it. Jared leapt to the ground, landing on the balls of his feet like a cat, and then twisted his gelding’s reins around the rail.

“Damn sidesaddles,” Allie muttered. She couldn’t leap as quickly or elegantly to the ground and didn’t want a repeat of the last time Jared lifted her down. She kicked her left foot free of the stirrup and turned, lifting her right leg over the upright pommel as she sat sideways on the saddle. She was too slow. Jared stood next to the mare, his face obscured as he held out his arms for her.

I wish I could figure out what game he played.

She leaned down and he lifted her from the saddle. It had been a long ride and he kept his hands on her waist until he was sure she had her balance.

“I’m glad we are back on speaking terms, the last few weeks have been awkward and I—” His gaze dropped away and then came back to her. “I have missed talking to you.” He pitched his voice low, so Zeb would not overhear. He swallowed and turned his attention to the mare, running a hand down her neck.

Allie made a pretence of shaking out her skirt and tried to ignore how close he was standing. Warmth from the ride radiated off him and drew her in. Her bones missed Egypt and any source of heat called to her. She risked a glance but couldn’t read his expression. Since he had opened the door she decided to take a chance.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. Then chewed her lower lip, thinking she revealed too much. “I can’t bait any of the other nobles like I can tease you,” she added.

A faint smile played over his lips and Allie thought she saw relief pass behind his eyes as he swept his gaze back to her. As he moved to tie up Soiron, she noted he slid his sword to hang at his left side, hidden under the folds of his jacket.

Zeb dropped down a small metal ladder and climbed off the side of Thumper. He gave the metal monstrosity a slap on the side. “That was a much better ride than any nag.”

Allie and Jared exchanged rolled eyes as they stepped up onto the porch and into the humid interior of the smithy.

A short man with corded arm muscles, resembling tree trunks and covered in a thin layer of soot, laboured at the anvil next to the fire. On seeing them, he ceased his hammering. Taking up the pinchers, he picked up the shoe and plunged it into a bucket of water. Plumes of steam rose into the already stifling room.

Allie closed her eyes and inhaled. Heated air seared into her lungs.
Egypt
, she thought, letting warmth soak into her bones for the first time in months.

The smith wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his forearm, smearing a black mark farther over his forehead.

“I finished it just like your drawings,” he said without preamble.

Zeb turned to his friends. “This won’t take long; I just need to check the piece and pay.”

Jared arched a dark brow but refused to budge from the spot where he stood.

The smith rummaged on a reinforced workbench littered in metalwork and piles of horseshoes. He lifted a small round object the size of a Christmas bauble that appeared to be made of spun metal wire.

Warmed by the steam from the fire, Allie realised English clothes weren’t designed for heat. A trickle of sweat worked its way down the inside of her corset.

“Why don’t I go next door and buy lunch. We could sit outside and enjoy the last of summer,” she said. “Or is sitting under a tree too uncouth for your lordship?”

Jared flashed one of his rare easy smiles. “It’s a good idea. We’ve been cooped up inside too long with the summer rain. I’ll wait here with Zeb.” He crossed his arms over his chest and resumed his bodyguard duty.

Leaving the boys to their task, she walked out the door and along the wooden paving to the inn. A ruddy-faced woman took her order and Allie wandered the deserted room, staring at the paintings hung on the walls. The artist slashed the canvas with blobs of red and green in one picture and she turned her head trying to make sense of the maelstrom of paint.

After several boring minutes, the landlady appeared with a wicker basket covered with a red gingham cloth. Allie thanked her, took the heavy basket and then went in search of Zeb and Jared.

She dropped the basket when she spied two enormous booted feet through the open door. Inside, the blacksmith lay unconscious on the floor next to his anvil. A trickle of blood pooled under his head. Ice settled in the pit of her stomach and chilled her flesh despite the roaring fire. Her eyes darted, seeking any sign of where Zeb and Jared might have gone. Bursting out the back door, she found a small courtyard that led to a barn. One door hung off its hinge and swung partly open.

As she passed through the doors into the dim interior of the barn, she paused to let her eyes adjust. It became obvious she had missed the action, which resulted in a stalemate. She shrugged her jacket from her shoulders and let it slip from her fingers to the ground.

Jared was a few feet inside the door. He stood frozen in time yet coiled for action, about to spring. His sword was drawn and pointed at two men, whom Allie immediately christened Baldy and Grubby. Baldy stood next to the slumped and prone body of Zeb. Grubby crouched down, and held a blade dangerously close to their inert friend’s throat.

Allie assessed the scenario in an instant, and decided to jump right in the middle.

eb!” she cried and moved forward a couple of steps, her action drawing the attention of the men.

“No!” Jared held out his left hand to stop her, halting her at his side.

Baldy cast a predatory look she hadn’t seen since her days on the streets. He crooked his finger in a supposed welcoming gesture. “That’s it missy. Why don’t you just come over here and check on your friend? I’m really not sure if he’s gonna be all right or not.”

He grinned and tried to appear friendly, but given he was missing most of his front teeth and he looked like he had never seen a bath in his entire lifetime, the smile gave an altogether different impression.

Allie ignored Jared’s caution. She squeezed his fingers as she pushed his hand out of the way, hoping he would interpret her brief signal. She had a plan. She edged closer to where Zeb lay.

“That’s right missy,” Grubby crooned, while Baldy started chortling.

As Allie stepped forward, she brushed her right hand against the side of her corset. Silver glinted between her fingers. She extended her arm and then flicked her wrist and the flash became a metallic blur heading for the crouching man. Grubby cried out and clutched at his throat. Blood spurted out from between his fingers.

“The bitch, the little bitch,” he cried, as blood flowed.

Jared seized the opportunity Allie’s distraction provided and punched the taller man hard in the side of the head and sent him slamming to the stable floor. He hit the ground with a resounding thud and lay prone next to Zeb. Jared placed one booted foot on the man’s chest and levelled his katana at his throat.

“Is he going to live?” he asked Allie of Grubby, who was now desperately trying to stem the bleeding with his dirty neckerchief. He pulled the small but lethal throwing star from his flesh and tossed it on the ground at Allie’s feet.

She pulled the dagger from her boot and held it on the man. She gave a shrug. “It’s only a small cut. The stars aren’t big but very sharp. I suspect it’s probably deep, and carotid arteries can be touchy.” The man started groaning on cue. “I’d put pressure on that and pinch if I was you.” She held up thumb and forefinger and made a pinching motion. “It’s possible he could bleed out if he doesn’t get it tended soon.”

The man already looked considerably paler.

“Who sent you?” Jared asked of Baldy lying at his feet.

“I ain’t telling you.” He spat back, rolling his head to the side, to eyeball his friend.

Without so much as a blink of warning, Jared plunged his sword into the man’s upper left arm.

Baldy screamed as the blade hit bone and glanced off before continuing all the way through. It exited his bicep just above the dirt floor. He was pinned until Jared withdrew the katana and pointed the dripping tip at the man’s torso. Both fallen men were now the same pallid shade of grey.

“Who sent you?” He repeated the question.