Sons of Liberty (36 page)

She met his eyes. “Do you expect me to betray my oaths?”

“
No,” Bruce said. “But I think you do have to ask yourself just what is likely to happen if the current situation continues.”

Gwen hesitated. “There is something you need to know,” she said. “And I’m going to drop my shields to allow you to read my emotions, just so you know I’m telling the truth.”

Bruce’s eyebrows crawled upwards, but he said nothing. Gwen carefully dismantled her shields, suddenly feeling naked - again - in front of him. She’d never needed to pretend to be something she wasn't, unlike Irene and Raechel. No one would be surprised if she had the power to shield her thoughts. But now she needed him to believe every word.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then began. “Whitehall knows the current situation is unsustainable,” she said. “They are prepared to cede most of your demands, in exchange for your wholehearted support for the war. You could have your own united parliament as soon as next year, if you worked for it. There would be no need to overthrow the government and set up your own, while fighting a civil war!”

Bruce stared at her. It crossed her mind, suddenly, that he might not have very good control over some of his talents. God knew she didn't and she had a feeling she’d actually been playing with her magic for longer than him. Maybe he couldn't read her emotions, let alone her thoughts. How much did he know about his talents?

“
I see,” Bruce said, finally. “Are you serious?”

“
Yes,” Gwen said. “Bruce, I can ask your father to implement the contingency plan now!”

“
I’d have to speak to the others,” Bruce said. “Not all of them would believe you.”

Gwen took a breath. “You have to know that time is running out,” she said. “The French are approaching Amherst. If the Sons rise up against the redcoats, they’re going to be branded traitors once and for all. There will be no hope of establishing a peaceful ... readjustment of power. Either the Crown crushes you as traitors or you take power by force, only to lose it to the French. Time is not on your side.”

She hesitated, then rose and stalked towards the remains of her trousers. Her legs felt wobbly, but she refused to let herself fall over. Her trousers were caked in mud and her underclothes were torn; gritting her teeth, she pulled them back on and did her best to remove the mud. God alone knew what she was going to tell Jackson, when she finally made it back to Amherst. If she told him half the truth, he’d have a fit ...

And if I told him what we did together, she thought, he’d have a heart attack.

The horses were dead, she discovered; she wasn't really surprised. Lieutenant Roscoe and his men looked to have been torn apart, too. She wanted to bury them, but there was no time to waste. The only thing she could do was make her way back to Amherst and hope Jackson could send out a burial party before it was too late. She forced herself to check Lieutenant Roscoe’s body for anything that might help the French, then took his pistol and remaining ammunition. It might be useful on the trek back to the city.

“
I will have to speak to the others,” Bruce said. He held out a hand. “But for what it’s worth, I will help you get back before I go on to find them.”

Gwen nodded. She doubted anyone in Amherst knew that Bruce had slipped out of City Hall, let alone shadowed Gwen and Lieutenant Roscoe to their fateful meeting. Did he even have a cover story for his servants, if he failed to return?

“
I meant to ask,” she said, as they started to walk. “How did you keep your powers secret from your father?”

Bruce made no pretence of being surprised by the question. “My uncle was the only one who knew,” he said. Gwen guessed that something unfortunate had happened, just as had happened to her. “And he warned me to keep them secret until I knew what I wanted to do with them. Father never knew.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “But he’s going to know now, isn't he?”

“
It depends on you,” Gwen said. “Time is really not on your side.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They fell into a companionable silence as they made their slow way towards Amherst, something which suited Gwen more than she cared to admit. Her world had turned upside down, no matter how much she might have wanted to deny it. She’d been wrong about Bruce, wrong - perhaps - about the Sons ... and she’d surrendered her maidenhead. She couldn't help feeling strangely uncertain about the whole affair. If her mother had found out ...

She cursed silently, wondering what was normal. Her mother had told her nothing of what passed between husband and wife, while the handful of books she’d managed to obtain on the subject had been demonstratively inaccurate when it came to female bodies. Lucy had been a little more explicit - it had been her who’d demonstrated the link between periods and the reproductive cycle - but even she hadn't gone into too much detail. Some of the younger girls had spoken of feeling attraction, even desire, towards men. Raechel had gone further, perhaps further than Gwen ...

I should ask her, Gwen thought. It wouldn't be easy, not after she’d told Raechel off for risking everything for a wild thrill, but she didn’t know who else she could ask. Irene? She might know what happened.

She glanced at Bruce, feeling an odd string of emotions. She'd kissed Jack and Sir Charles, but neither of them had made her feel so ... strange. Her emotions were a strange mixture of delight, relief, contentment and alarm, rapidly shading to panic. She’d fought beside Jack and Master Thomas, but she’d never felt so ... so lustful afterwards. She felt a hot flash of shame as she realised just what she’d done, combined with a strange sense of freedom. The conventions of polite society no longer bothered her as much as they had.

Did our shared magic draw us together, she asked herself, or were we attracted to each other right from the start?

There was no way to know. It was rare for magicians to marry other magicians - but then, before Gwen there had only been a handful of registered female magicians. Were Blazers attracted to other Blazers? Movers to other Movers? Irene had admitted, once, that Talkers were often drawn to other Talkers, although their relationships rarely lasted. There was something about being so open with one’s partner which made maintaining the relationship impossible. Gwen looked at Bruce, wondering what he was thinking. Could their ... whatever it was ... survive if he knew everything about her?

“
I should have brought a horse,” Bruce said, as the skies darkened. “It’s going to rain.”

Gwen looked at him. “You flew, I assume?”

Bruce nodded, wordlessly.

“
You’re good,” Gwen admitted. “Who taught you?”

“
There were a pair of magicians, a Blazer and a Mover, who fled the uprising in London,” Bruce said. It took Gwen a moment to realise he meant the Unrest, Jack’s first attempt at rebellion, rather than the Swing. “They made their way to the colonies, where they joined the Sons.”

Gwen nodded, slowly. “What about the other talents?”

“
I’m much less good with them,” Bruce said. “Jane tried to teach me how to monitor emotions and thoughts, but I could never master it.”

“
It isn't easy,” Gwen said. “Healing?”

Bruce shook his head. Gwen felt an odd flicker of relief. It had taken her nearly a year to make any progress with Healing, even with Lucy as a guide. She wasn't surprised that Bruce had managed to master Moving and Blazing, but having him outdo her with the other talents would have been ... irritating. Jack had been better than her, of course, yet he’d had at least a decade of training before he betrayed Master Thomas. And Master Thomas hadn't known that there were Healers ...

The skies opened. Rain plunged from the heavens. Gwen drew on her magic to shield herself, then kept walking. She wasn't sure quite how far they were from Amherst, but she knew there was no point in wishing for a horse. Flying herself could be dangerous in the rain, she’d learned through bitter experience. Bruce didn't seem bothered by the rain, even when it soaked his clothes clean through. Gwen wasn't sure if he was showing off or merely unconcerned. He’d have to change, probably in a hiding place within the city, before he slipped back to City Hall.

Bruce caught her arm as they finally reached the road. “Amherst is just down there,” he said, softly. “I need to sneak in a different way.”

Gwen nodded. It would be difficult to explain Bruce’s presence, if they ran into a mounted patrol. “I’ll see you tonight,” she said, instead. “Are you going to talk to the Sons?”

“
Yeah,” Bruce said. “But I don't know what they’ll say.”

Gwen hesitated, unsure what she wanted to say. Raechel probably knew precisely what to say to a man, after making love to him. But there had been no time to think and plan ...

“
We need to talk, later,” she said. She was going to be dreadfully embarrassed talking to him, after everything they’d done, but there was no choice. “I don’t ...”

Her voice trailed off. Bruce had her over a barrel and knew it. The merest hint that she’d slept with him would destroy her career, if it reached Britain. Her cheeks stung with sudden embarrassment. No one gave a damn about male sorcerers who slept with whores outside wedlock, but her? Her position would become untenable.

“
We will,” Bruce promised. He met her eyes. “Whatever happens, Lady Gwen, what we did back there” - he waved a hand back in the direction they’d come - “will not pass my lips.”

He gave her a brief kiss, then turned and hurried into the distance. Gwen watched him go, feeling oddly unsure of herself. She believed Bruce meant every word, but ... what they’d done might have had consequences. Gritting her teeth, she looked down at her muddy clothes and started to walk. There would be time to think about the scale of the disaster later, if all hell broke loose. Right now, she had to get back to the city.

The rainfall came to an end as she crested the ridge and walked down towards the outer edge of the defences, careful to keep her hands in view. Colonel Jackson had mounted snipers along the walls, men who’d been hunters in civilian life. The defences themselves were constantly expanding, growing larger and larger as the workers added more and more refinements. Gwen hoped - prayed - that the French didn't have too many magicians with their army. If they had to take Amherst by storm, it would cost them dearly.

“
Lady Gwen,” the guard said. He stared at her in astonishment. “What happened?”

Gwen bit down on a sarcastic answer. “I need to go to City Hall,” she said, instead. She needed to wash and change before she met Colonel Jackson, if only to keep from trailing mud throughout his office. “Send a runner; inform the Colonel that the remainder of the party is dead and I will report to him, after I’ve had a bath.”

The guard nodded. Gwen walked past him and whistled to a coachman, who jumped down and helped her into the carriage. She took a moment to centre herself as the coach rattled to life, the driver cracking the whip enthusiastically. How did Bruce intend to enter the city and sneak back into City Hall? His servants must be Sons themselves, ready to cover for him if necessary. Gwen couldn't help a flicker of admiration, mixed with concern. If the Viceroy had missed his son’s true nature, what else had he missed?

She jumped out of the carriage at City Hall and hurried up the rear steps to her suite. She’d wanted to stay near the other sorcerers, but Jackson had insisted on her taking the quarters that had belonged to the former mayor’s daughter. For once, Gwen was almost relieved as she hurried through the door, the serving maid staring at her in absolute disbelief. She had to look a mess.

“
Pour cold water into the bathtub, then leave me,” Gwen ordered curtly. Maids were supposed to be discreet, but she hadn't hired this maid. If there was one thing she’d learned from her adventure in Russia, it was that maids - and other servants - talked. “If the colonel sends a messenger, inform him that I will be along shortly.”

The maid nodded and hurried to obey. Gwen removed her shoes - they’d have to be cleaned, along with the rest of her outfit - and then glanced in the mirror. She looked worse than she’d dared imagine, her trousers and shirt torn and ruined. The maid would probably need to throw them out, rather than try to repair them. She stepped into the bathroom and dismissed the maid, who looked surprised at Gwen’s choice of water. But it was quicker for her to heat the water using magic than wait for the maid to carry buckets of warm water from the kitchen.

She undressed as soon as the maid had gone, closing the door firmly behind her, then studied her naked body in the mirror. There were marks everywhere, bruises from the brief confrontation mingling with red marks where Bruce had held her. Her lips looked swollen, although the swelling was clearly going down. She made a mental note to use an illusion to hide the swelling, then heated the water and climbed into the bath. After the long walk back to the city, the warm water felt like heaven.

A chill ran down her spine as she considered the possible consequences. What if Bruce had gotten her pregnant? It was possible ... and she might not know for months. Her periods had always been irregular, something she’d assumed was connected to her magic. It would take several months for her to be sure they’d stopped completely, by which time the baby would be well on the way to being born. What was she meant to do then? Her mother had aborted a child, once. All of a sudden, Gwen understood how her mother had felt perfectly.