
## The Case of the Misplaced Hero

### Season 1 of The Perils of Plink series

### A Collected Serial from The Daring Novelist Blog

by Camille LaGuire

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Second Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Camille LaGuire

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### Table of Contents

Forward

Chapter 1 \- Aunt Flavia Jumps In the Lake

Chapter 2 \- Flavia's Gift

Chapter 3 \- The Invisible Man

Chapter 4 \- The Outrage of Old Thorny

Chapter 5 \- The Wrong River

Chapter 6 \- No, Seriously, Not The Right River

Chapter 7 \- Welcome to Awarshawa

Chapter 8 \- Alex Gives Chase

Chapter 9 \- The District Facilitator

Chapter 10 \- Dr. Artemus M. Thornton, Professor of... Something or Other

Chapter 11 \- Alex Takes the Direct Route

Chapter 12 \- Scouting Headquarters

Chapter 13 \- Inciting the One Percent

Chapter 14 \- Rozinshura is Disappointed

Chapter 15 \- But Not a Professional Spy

Chapter 16 \- The Flash Mob

Chapter 17 \- Alex Finds a Sock

Chapter 18 \- The Hospitality Committee

Chapter 19 \- The Importance of Sandwiches

Chapter 20 \- Not There To Save

Chapter 21 \- The Coup in the Kitchen

Chapter 22 \- Alex Plots a Counter Coup

Chapter 23 \- Lady Featherdale Gives Evidence

Chapter 24 \- Action In The Alcove

Chapter 25 \- The Chase

Chapter 26 \- Pookiterin In The Corner

Chapter 27 \- Which Side Are You On, Kinchin?

Chapter 28 \- The Girl With The Sword

Chapter 29 \- Thorny Revealed

Chapter 30 \- Lina's Story

Chapter 31 \- There Once Was a Man From Michigan

Chapter 32 \- The Locked Larder Committee

Chapter 33 \- Face to Face

Chapter 34 \- The Cussar Sword

Chapter 35 \- The High Commissar Arrives

Chapter 36 \- Finding Thorny

Chapter 37 \- Run For The River

Chapter 38 \- Sword to Sword

Chapter 39 \- Rozinshura vs. The Plot

Chapter 40 \- The Skin of His Teeth

Chapter 41 \- Is It Murder?

Chapter 42 \- The Mentor

Epilogue and Teaser \- And What About Lina?

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### Forward

This story was first published as a twice-weekly serial on The Daring Novelist blog. Part of the challenge I set myself was to write super-short episodes, quick to read like a comic strip. As a result I often had to squeeze scenes or cut myself short. For the most part, this book is as the story originally appeared, but I have expanded and edited a few things, simply because I could.

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### Chapter 1 - Aunt Flavia Jumps In the Lake

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ALEX BEGAN LIFE only twenty-three years ago, in Michigan. He was the son of wealthy parents, who were always a bit mysterious and distracted. They died before he was old enough for them to explain anything to him.

They left him in the hands of lawyers, who took care of his estate, which was large, and mostly pretty boring. He would have much rather have been left in the custody of his Great Aunt Flavia, but apparently his parents, or their lawyers, had been concerned that she would be a bad influence.

And they were right. She was a bad influence – and she managed to influence him very well, in spite of the lawyers. She was all the family he had, so they could hardly keep her away. He got to spend summers and holidays with her.

And she was anything but boring.

Aunt Flavia lived in a world of her own, a world full of imagination. When he came to visit, they would play at pirates all summer long; and at spies and castles and swordplay at every week end. He learned to ride horses, and became a passable swordsman.

His aunt had even made up a secret language she called "Awarshi," which they spoke to one another all the time, like a secret code, even in public. This much annoyed the trustees who acted as Alex's financial guardians.

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ONE SUMMER ALEX and Flavia were out boating on Lake Michigan, when a wind came up, and she fell overboard. It happened so fast Alex didn't even hear the splash. She was simply gone. Alex was frantic. He circled, and called for help.

The authorities and local fishermen searched for hours and found no sign of her.

She turned up on the beach that evening, weak and suffering from exposure. She had a gash on her side, and bruises on her wrists.

The injuries looked suspicious to the police, especially since she was vague on how she got them. That is, she was vague at first. Then she realized that the police thought Alex had attacked her and thrown her overboard. She bristled at the very idea:

"That's nonsense!" she said, energy flooding back into her whole body. "I fell in, and was sucked under, that's all. There must have been an unusual undertow."

"An undertow that grabbed you by the wrists?" asked the policeman.

"Don't interrupt," she said, and she fixed him with a look that made him look away for doubting her. "When I came up, the boat was no longer in sight. I could see the beach, so I swam for it. But I'm an old woman, and not strong, so I suppose I mostly drifted. I very nearly didn't make it, so don't question me like a criminal."

"No, ma'am, of course not –"

"There was a pontoon or a raft a little way from shore," she continued, with another sharp look at the cop to silence him. "I tried to climb up onto it, but I lost my grip. That's when I hurt my side. So then I just held on and rested until I was strong enough to stay afloat and let the waves push me to the beach."

The policeman looked doubtfully at the bruises on her wrists, but she pulled her hands away and crossed her arms.

"When I tried to climb up on the pontoon, I wrapped a rope around my wrist to get a better grip."

She could not be shaken from her story, and no one wanted to badger a sick old woman, so they let her go home.

Alex rode with her as the police drove them home. Her energy faded then, and she closed her eyes, almost dead, he thought. He took her arm and cried.

"I tried to save you but I couldn't," he whispered in their secret language, so the police wouldn't know.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "It wasn't a job for you."

"It was," he said. "I was the only one there. That's what you've always said about a hero, right? He's the person who's there."

"Kinchura," she said, which was her word for _dearest_. " _I_ wasn't there to save, so it wasn't your job. Quiet for a little now. I'm too tired. I must rest. I have something to give you. Later."

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### Episode 2 - Flavia's Gift

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THAT NIGHT ALEX fell into a fitful sleep, filled with nightmares of wind and water. He tossed and turned and in the worst his dreams, a hand grabbed his arm. He pulled away and sat up, half-awake.

Aunt Flavia was standing by his bed, gently shaking him by the arm.

"I'm all right," she said. "I'm safe. Are you all right?"

Alex rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up. This itself was like a dream, Aunt Flavia standing over him in the moonlight like an apparition.

"I have something to tell you," she said. "And something to give you."

She sat on the edge of his bed and played with the ring on her finger, and didn't speak again for a moment.

"Alex, I want you to always remember the games we play," she said at last. "And the movies we watch and the books we read. Don't ever let something like what happened today make you think they are silly, or useless. When you grow up and see how muted and barren this world is, you may think there is nothing really great or true or wonderful."

She paused and looked down at her hand, and then, suddenly, she looked up again, straight at him.

"But you would be wrong!" she said passionately. "I tell you great things exist!"

"I know," said Alex.

"You won't always know. This world is so persistently cynical, that it will rub the belief right off of you. They make great things like heroes seem ordinary. They make them invisible. It's like Zorro when he's Don Diego. When he is a student in Spain, he's nobody. He's just a rich kid who nobody thinks about. Even _he_ doesn't. But that's because he's misplaced. The hero inside is invisible until he finds his place and sees what he must do."

"I tried to save you...."

"Alex, that wasn't a job for you. You haven't found your place yet. But you will. Someday. Don't judge by one event, Alex. When something bad happens, you might do something right, or you might do something wrong. That is true of anyone, even heroes. But when _you_ find your place, it will be something more. I know it. And when you do, it won't be through fear or doubt. You'll find your place because you got so sick and tired of this world and its dull reality. It will make you want to go jump in the lake."

She pulled the ring from her finger, and pressed it into his hand. It was gold and glinted in the dim light. Alex couldn't see it well, but he'd seen it so many times as they'd played. It was fat and plain, except for some etching and two tiny rubies, like the eyes of a beast biting its own tail. You'd think it was a snake, but the pattern in the etching didn't look like scales. It was more like the ribs of an armadillo.

"I encourage you to do it, Alex. Jump in the lake. But when you do, you must wear this ring and remember all that I taught you. All of it. Even the silly things."

She kissed him and went back to her own room.

Alex was so sleepy, he wasn't sure it wasn't a dream, except he had the ring. He looked at it for a long time, in the moonlight. Did Aunt Flavia believe that ring had saved her life? Was that why she said he should wear it if he jumped in the lake? He pictured the ring becoming a magic rope, which took her by the wrists and dragged her from the deep. That was why she didn't want to tell the police about it.

And what did this have to do with invisible misplaced heroes? Maybe the ring called up an invisible hero, deep in the lake, who grabbed her by the wrists and flung her onto the beach.

The image was weird, but kinda cool. Comforting even. And that was why she said saving her wasn't Alex's job. She had the ring's hero to do it. A hero who only shows up when he's needed.

Alex felt comforted, but not much like a hero himself. The fact was, saving her _should_ have been his job.

But that feeling faded over time.

Years later, after his aunt died for real, and Alex went off to college, he tried not to think about much of anything at all. Certainly not about his aunt's delusions about invisible heroes, or about how right she was about the cynical, boring, vapid world.

However college wasn't designed for not thinking. If you stay there long enough – as Alex most certainly did – sooner or later you will be lured into thinking. And thinking will change your life....

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### Episode 3 - The Invisible Man

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IN COLLEGE ALEX made a point of evading success. He had no ambition. He indulged sometimes in pranks, but he never cheated, except now and then he would flunk a class intentionally. The fact was, he didn't want to graduate. School suited him. He had the money to stay, and he had no place else he wanted to go. Why not? He could be a perpetual student.

And even though he had outgrown his aunt's fanciful games, he sometimes longed for a world like the one she made up for them, a world where honor and glory didn't seem so... dumb.

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IN HIS FIFTH year of college, on his third go round at a second year literature class, he planned to simply skip the final paper. It was the easiest way to flunk a class, after all. But when he saw the topic, he got a sudden idea and decided to write it after all.

The assignment was to discuss one of the books they had read from the point of view of one of the great literary critics. Alex had read all the novels, but he had not paid any attention at all to the lectures about literary theory. He couldn't have even named one of the critics if he'd tried, let alone written a paper about one.

But one of the books had brought Aunt Flavia and her little midnight talk to mind. _The Invisible Man_ was a serious modern novel about a man of color who slowly and inexorably becomes disillusioned with the promises of opportunity and equality in modern society.

By the end the hero of the book has been utterly stripped of every one of his illusions, and he realizes that he is virtually invisible to the cynical world around him, and that invisibility gives him power. The man vows to use that power to hold society accountable to the values it pretended to hold dear.

The book probably meant that the guy was just going to write a book about it all, but when Alex read that scene, he heard his aunt's voice, telling him how heroes lie fallow, unnoticed, unappreciated – invisible. The man in the book was dismissed and ignored because of his race, but wasn't that a variation on how the wealthy and blue-blooded heroes in adventure stories are ignored and dismissed for their uselessness?

And wouldn't it be really inappropriate to compare the two?

It would be a perfect way to fail the class, and also be a tribute to Aunt Flavia, since it was near the anniversary of her death. A grand gesture, if a little useless, like a misplaced hero. A good way to end the school year.

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AFTER THE TERM ended, Alex normally would not have bothered to pick up his paper or check his grades, but this time he couldn't help thinking about that paper. Would the professor make a comment, or just flunk him? Or might he even like it?

Alex went to the department office and picked up his papers. He went out into the hall and hesitated before opening the envelope. Then he laughed at himself for bothering to care, and he tore it open.

The essay was crumpled, as though someone had balled it up and thrown it away – but had then retrieved it and flattened it again. Scrawled across the top, in bold red letters was:

"NONSENSE!"

And then below that was the grade.

"4.0"

A perfect score. There were no other marks on the essay.

Alex went back into the office to inquire as to whether Professor Thornton was still on campus. The overworked and disapproving secretary informed him, shortly, that he could find Old Thorny enjoying "happy hour" at a local restaurant across the street.

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### Episode 4 - The Outrage of Old Thorny

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PROFESSOR THORNTON WAS a living, breathing, human caricature. He wore a tweed coat with leather patches at the elbows, and had mustard stains on his tie, and tousled graying hair. His lectures seemed like well-tuned performances of an old vaudevillian – performed so often without varying that Alex had never been sure that Old Thorny even knew what he was saying any more. Just put on the same show twice a day, take a bow and answer the same old questions by rote.

Alex found him sitting at a table by the window in the favorite local Mexican hangout. Old Thorny had an nearly empty pitcher of beer in front of him and a completely empty margarita glass. He was vainly trying to get the attention of the waitress who seemed determined not to see him.

But then Thorny saw Alex and he half stood, and pointed at Alex, shouting.

"Then give him a drink!"

The waitress looked at Alex and said, through a clenched jaw, "Are you with him?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to him."

"Take him home," she said.

"That boy shattered my existence with his nonsense!" he called out in a booming stage voice, and a dead-on impression of Richard Burton. "Give him a drink!"

Alex agreed to take him home.

"She won't give me another drink," said Thorny as Alex got him to his feet. "She thinks four is too many."

"You've already had three?"

"I've already had five."

"And you're still above the table."

"Perhaps," he said. "I lie when I get drunk. And I can't count. I may have had only three. In which case I need more. I am trying to wash your nonsense out of my head."

By this time, Alex had maneuvered him out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

Since neither of them had a car, they walked. It wasn't far to Thorny's house, apparently, just across the river.

As they walked Alex waved the envelope with his essay under the professor's nose. The professor squinted at it and then waved his hand dismissively.

"You're not so clever, my boy," he said.

"I got a four point," said Alex, but the old man waved him off again.

"Do you think, in forty years of teaching, I haven't had students say 'up yours' with an assignment before? It's dreary how you all do the same thing. I tell you to discuss the novel from the point of view of an established critic, and you pick your dear old Aunt Bessy!"

"Aunt Flavia," said Alex.

"Auntie Mame. I don't care. You're not the first one to choose grandmaw or Hitler, or Snoopy, or Snoop Dawg. Not clever at all."

"Then why the four point?"

They were crossing the bridge over the river, and the professor stopped, and held on to the railing for a moment. He might have been thinking, or just on the verge of passing out.

"Because," he said finally. "In all of it, all my teaching days, I have never seen anyone compare Ralph Ellison's _Invisible Man_ to Zorro. Not once."

"Nobody's ever made a ridiculous comparison?"

"Nobody's ever meant it."

The professor pushed past him and headed the rest of the way across the bridge.

"I didn't actually mean it," said Alex. "I was just–"

Old Thorny stopped, but he didn't turn around. He balled his fists, and his shoulders raised up stiffly.

"You don't understand!" he said, half shouting. Then he finally wheeled around. "You made _me_ believe it!"

"I didn't mean to," said Alex. "I meant to do the opposite, actually."

"For just one small shining moment, I believed in what you were saying. I believed that the modern world and Zorro could coexist. Then I came crashing back to reality when you misspelled 'there.' T-h-e-i-r is the possessive. T-h-e-r-e is the place."

"Sorry, I was trying to flunk."

"Bah!" Old Thorny wheeled around and began to stagger away.

"It was a tribute to my aunt. She really believed in Zorro," said Alex. "But she was eccentric. I mean, she also advised me to go jump in the lake."

At that, the professor stopped again. He half turned, as if puzzled.

"Jump in the lake? She told you to go jump in the lake?"

"Not told, _advised_ ," said Alex. "It wasn't an insult, it was a recommendation."

"Why?"

"I don't know," said Alex with a shrug. "She had interesting ideas."

"Of course she did," said the old professor, and he stood swaying for a moment, and his head turned slowly toward the river. "Jump in the lake. See what happens. That's splendid."

By this time the professor had moved beyond the bridge, so he couldn't just jump in, but Alex didn't like the manic look in his eyes. Alex braced himself to catch the old man if he tried to race back to the center of the bridge and throw himself in.

"Let's do it!" said the professor, but instead of heading back onto the bridge, he jumped the lower barrier next to him and ran down the bank.

Alex had no choice but to vault over and try to catch him.

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### Episode 5 - The Wrong River

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THE PROFESSOR WAS picking up speed as he stumbled drunkenly down the bank.

"Professor, that water's filthy," called Alex from the top of the barrier. "You should see what's in it under a microscope!"

"You took biology?" the professor shouted from below. "Good for you! Humanities is a dead subject."

Alex leapt down and raced after him. The man, though, changed direction, and headed for the base of the bridge. Alex shot right by, straight toward the river. He caught himself at the edge, just where the firm grassy ground sloped down into the mud. He teetered a moment and looked into the murky water.

It was smooth and calm on this fine evening, and though the moving water had ripples, the surface reflected bits of Alex back at himself, along with bits of the sky and the spidery trees. The ripples blended these pieces together and it seemed like blending two separate pictures. Like seeing multiple scenes at once.

Alex had had this sensation before when looking at the surface of water; blending pictures, blending worlds. It was distracting, disorienting, but beautiful. Even in the murky surface of a muddy river.

Alex shook himself and pulled back. He turned and saw the professor had climbed up onto the square cement base of one of the bridge pylons. He stood there, staggering as he lifted his arms, ready to dive.

"No!" said Alex. "It's too shallow. The rocks!"

The professor staggered back a half step, and that gave Alex time to scramble up. There wasn't a lot of room on the flat bit of cement, and as the professor lurched his way toward the water again, Alex realized here was no place to step back to brace himself to take the man's weight.

The professor wasn't a large man, but as he pitched forward, he overbalanced them both, and they tumbled in.

But there was no splash.

They went deeper into the water than Alex expected, and the water was colder, and the force of the current pushed them faster.

Alex grasped the professor's coat and they both floundered and kicked for a moment before they breached the surface.

Water splashed into his mouth as he gasped for air. It was sweet and clean. Not muddy. Not at all muddy. Alex kicked to keep his head above water and looked for the riverbank. It was farther than expected, and he couldn't even see the bridge. None of it looked familiar. Walls of rock, and a stretch of gravelly beach that was quickly sliding past them.

The current pulled hard, and churned. They both went under for a moment. Alex realized that they would soon be swept past that shallow gravel beach. The rest of the bank was high rock and there was no other place to land.

He kicked and pulled and so did the professor, and they broke the surface again. There was a thundering, roaring sound in the distance down stream.

"This way," gasped Alex, as the professor paddled beside him. He pulled the older man toward the beach-like area, but the current kept pulling them onward. They were almost past it.

But then Alex thought he recognized that roaring sound.

He paused to give a tremendous kick to raise himself a little higher above the water line, just a few more inches. He only caught a glimpse, but he could see the river vanished just a short ways ahead. Mist rose beyond the spot where it vanished.

"Waterfall!" he cried.

The professor's eyes widened in panic, and he began to flounder as the current took them both.

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### Episode 6 - No, Seriously, Not The Right River

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ALEX'S MIND REGISTERED, vaguely, that there was no waterfall on the Red Cedar River. It was flat, muddy and slow. But the roar of the falls was too loud to ignore, and the current was racing.

Alex grabbed Old Thorny's sleeve and pulled and kicked, away from the center of the river. He didn't care where they landed anymore. They just had to get out of the current. Now.

The professor floundered and might have dragged them both under, but Alex had him by the elbow, and pushed him forward. In a moment the professor had control of himself and started kicking and swimming with a will.

They reached the shallows. The water still bounced them along the rocks, but with less force. They hauled themselves up and half-crawled, slipping and grasping, back upstream to the small inlet at the side of the river. It wasn't exactly a beach, just a flat area of gravel and broken rock, but it was out of the water.

The professor collapsed into a heap. Alex fell to the ground beside him, and looked at the raging river, and the deep forest on the other side of it, and the high rocks all around them. Not Michigan. Where the hell were they?

Just then there was the rattling sound of an old car. A very old-fashioned car. Alex turned and saw a narrow road above them, running parallel to the river. The vehicle bumped into view. It reminded him of a Model T – with round headlamps and an engine hood which opened on the sides – but it was bigger. The top was folded back and it was packed with soldiers. There were a couple of soldiers standing on the running boards, and clinging to the sides.

They rattled past, honking a hoarse old horn, and then the car couldn't quite make it up a steep bit of hill.

"Spushta!" shouted one of them, and the others all jumped out and pushed to get the car going again. In a moment they were out of sight.

_Spushta_.

Alex had heard that word hundreds of times. Aunt Flavia used to say it to him when he lagged behind.

_Hurry_.

That was her secret language, the one he thought she'd made up, to go with the country she'd made up.

"Don't look now," drawled the professor, "but I think we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Not by a long shot," said Alex. He stood up. "We're in Awarshawa."

Rather than ask where that was, the professor simply passed out again on the gravel. Alex turned to look at the river.

Aunt Flavia had disappeared into the water without a splash or trace, and then reappeared hours later, inexplicably injured. And that night she told him he'd want to jump in the lake sometime himself. _I encourage you to do it_ , she said.

And then she gave him the ring and said to wear it when he jumped in.

"It's the ring," said Alex. "And the river. They work together somehow."

He went to the edge and looked in. The reflections played across the water, and he had that same feeling of vertigo he'd had before. Two images on the water. And there, among the fractured bits of the trees and rocks and sky, he saw reflections of the bridge they'd left behind.

They could get back just by jumping in, he was sure. The only problem was that Thorny was still too drunk to swim. Still, the shallows here were not as dangerous as mid-river. And back home, the river was slow and safe.

And he really wanted to get Thorny home before he sobered up and saw what was going on.

He turned to get the old man up.

But the professor wasn't there.

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### Episode 7 - Welcome to Awarshawa

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WHEN PROFESSOR THORNTON opened his eyes and saw the rocks towering over him, and felt the gravel under him, he knew things were not as they should be.

And that was magnificent.

Perhaps it was the influence of the four margaritas – or was that five? – but he was tired of things being as they should be. He _hated_ things being as they should be. He shoved himself to his feet and staggered forward. He didn't see Alex, since he was facing away from the water, but he remembered the antique car. A Tin Lizzie or something like that.

He tottered toward the road, but the car was now long out of sight, and he wasn't sure what direction it had gone. So he tottered right on across the road, not looking where he was going, and hit a stone wall.

He bounced off it, twirled around and a hand grabbed his arm to steady him. It wasn't Alex. It was a soldier. A soldier with a very long gun and a very long bayonet attached to it.

"Hello," said Thorny.

The soldier said something very harsh in a strange language.

"I don't understand," replied Thorny.

The soldier poked him with the bayonet, and gestured for the professor to put his hands up. Thorny complied, having nothing better to do, and soon they were marching along the road, the bayonet poking him along faster than he had any right to be going.

They joined a group of people – a couple more soldiers and a cluster of peasants, women in babushkas and men in baggy trousers and boots. The peasants were all in a line, and the soldier shoved Thorny into line with them.

There was a man in a fancier uniform, with a polished helmet and boots and a sword at his side. Thorny staggered back out of line, and went over to give him an elaborate salute. The officer had his back to him and didn't see. Someone pulled Thorny back into line by the sleeve. A peasant girl.

"Don't salute!" she hissed, in a thick accent. "You are in Awarshawa. It is considered anti-revolutionary."

"Really?" said Thorny. "Then how do you show respect?"

He said it loud enough that the officer turned and looked at him. The girl shuffled back, behind Thorny. The officer came forward and frowned. He was taller than Thorny by at least a head, and had severe eyebrows and a pointy mustache.

"You speak Imprish?" said the officer.

"No," said Thorny. "Not at all. I speak English!"

"Where are your papers?"

"I'm afraid I graded them all and turned them in," said Thorny. "It's the end of the semester after all."

A soldier hit him on the side of the face with the butt of his gun, and he rocked backwards, nearly losing his balance. The girl grabbed his arm and righted him. Thorny's head reeled and a vague pain in his jaw made him grateful he was drunk.

The girl, meanwhile, was addressing the officer.

"This man is obviously a victim of the train wreck," she said. "He is confused. He must have fallen in the river. His papers are gone."

The officer paused and turned his full attention to the girl. She stood boldly, looking him in the eye. He smiled an oily smile and reached out to touch her face. She pulled back. The officer smiled again, satisfied, and he reached up to his own face and... good lord he didn't!

"Did you just _twirl_ your mustache?" asked Thorny, aghast.

The officer made a gesture, and the soldier hit Thorny again. Thorny went down, and the soldiers hauled him off and threw him in the back of the car. A moment later the girl was shoved in along with him.

"Oh, dear," said Thorny, as the car began to move. "Did I get you arrested?"

"Yes," said the girl. "You did."

"I'm very sorry."

"Old man, you must keep your mouth shut. Answer their questions, be obedient, and for the sake of all, do not smile at them!"

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### Episode 8 - Alex Gives Chase

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THORNY WAS NOT there.

Alex looked wildly about. Where did he go? He couldn't have gone far. He was too drunk.

Could he have staggered back to the water? No, he would have had to pass Alex to do that. He could have gone up into the rocks, but that looked like a more difficult climb. He probably went up onto the road.

Alex climbed up and looked uphill, where the car full of soldiers had gone. The road rose and fell, and there were tall trees. He couldn't see beyond the first hill.

He cursed Aunt Flavia. Why hadn't she told him this place was real?

But she had. Many times. He'd taken it as part of the game. He thought it was the "If only you believe in magic hard enough, Tinkerbell will live" kind of real. Not the "nearly drowning in a waterfall" kind of real.

He felt a wave of sorrow and he cursed himself for not listening hard enough, not believing well enough.

But he had no time for that. He had to find Thorny and take him back. The man was so drunk he probably wouldn't remember it. He'd think it was a dream or an hallucination.

If he didn't drown or get arrested first.

Alex turned around and looked the other way, and saw a cluster of figures. Another car. Some soldiers and peasants. These soldiers seemed neater than the scruffy bunch who had bounced up the road a minute ago, with shinier boots, spiffier uniforms. They had someone on the ground and were kicking him.

A man in a wet gray suit. Thorny.

Alex broke into a run. He wasn't sure what he would do, but at least he spoke Awarshi. Some Awarshi. He tried to come up with the right the phrases: _He's old, he's crazy, he's drunk. I'll be responsible for him._

_And who the heck are you? Where are your papers?_ he imagined the reply.

He'd tell them they'd left their things by the river. He only had to convince them to take them back to the river, then he could grab Thorny and they could jump in... if that was how the magic worked. He was sure it was. It had to be.

Alex pounded down the road at full speed, but it was too late. The car pulled away, and disappeared around a bend before he got there. Most of the peasants were gone too, but there was a man leaning on the gate of the nearest house.

He looked at Alex with suspicion.

"Where...?" said Alex breathlessly, trying to remember how to say it in Awarshi. "Where are they going? The old man is my friend. Where...?"

The man didn't answer. He looked Alex over, taking in his dripping wet and muddy clothes. Alex realized that the hoodie and jeans he was wearing weren't exactly familiar.

"Spies!" said the man. "That's what you are, eh?"

"No!" said Alex.

"That's what they said he was."

"It's a mistake. He's just a crazy old man. A drunk. I have to take care of him."

The man just kept squinting at him. Alex turned away to start running again. He would keep up as best he could and ask someone else.

But then a woman came out of the house.

"I told you," she said to the man. "They're just foreigners from the train wreck."

"Foreigners are foreigners," said the man.

"All the same, they might as well be foreigners together," said the woman, and she turned to Alex. "Follow the road all the way down. At the foot of the falls is the town. They've set up a headquarters in the inn."

"Thanks!" shouted Alex, and he broke into a run again. At least he was going down hill, but he had no idea how far he would be running. Or what he would do when he got to the bottom.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 9 - The District Facilitator

* * *

CAPTAIN AKIO ROZINSHURA stood outside the inn and directed his people as they dealt with the victims and debris which had been salvaged from the train wreck up on the mountain.

He was a great bear of a man, with shaggy eyebrows and a shaggier mustache which hid his mouth so you couldn't tell when he was smiling. His left leg, which had been shattered twice – once in the second revolution, once in the third – worked perhaps less well than a peg-leg would have, but at least he still had the leg. He lived in fear that some butcher of a field doctor would someday hack it off, so he kept the pain and trouble it gave him to himself.

He dreamed that he would someday find a foreign doctor stranded somewhere in a war zone, a bone specialist who could save a leg if you paid an enormous fee, or put a gun to his head, or perhaps if he was merely grateful for rescue.

As district facilitator, Rozinshura was the sheriff, mayor, tax collector, judge, as well as drinking buddy to the district. He had himself pioneered the drinking buddy aspect of the job – back in the second revolution, when he had been assigned a hostile district which had still not accepted the first revolution. It worked so well, they wrote it into the policy book of the Revolutionary Committee of Bureaucratic Practices. Page 425, Rule 26.

But at the moment, a nice drink in a pleasant atmosphere was not the solution to his problems. No, he had the delicate problem of a train wreck, if a train wreck could be called delicate.

A train, full of important people – diplomats from other countries returning from a peace conference – had been derailed by bandits. A tragedy, an embarrassment to Awarshawa, and a threat to fragile new alliances they had only just made with several powerful countries.

And by the telegrams which had been arriving constantly since word first got out, it was all Rozinshura's responsibility.

"The wreck is not so bad," said his sergeant, who had just returned from the site. "The bandits set it to derail into piles of gravel left from construction of the bridge."

"That was considerate of them," said Rozinshura.

"But the people on the train were so important they travel with guards. The guards defended the train, and that's how we got most of the injuries." He paused. "And many of the victims ran from the bandits and are lost in the woods. We have lost a baroness, and two political secretaries, a brakeman... Tralkulo has the list."

Rozinshura rubbed his bad leg and considered the bedraggled foreigners gathered in front of him. There were many more in the school, where they had set up a hospital.

"We need more supplies," said the sergeant. "We need a car, or an engine to bring the worst injured down safely."

"I know," said Rozinshura. He had sent his best scroungers down to rob the hospital in Vinschke, and perhaps to round up a doctor, preferably one who was both sober and competent. Or perhaps.... "If these people are so important, see if they have a doctor with them." Who knows, they might even have a bone specialist.

"Oh," said the sergeant, recalling one more item, "and Colonel Pookiterin is here. He has a spy."

"Pookiterin is always having spies," snapped Rozinshura. "Pookiterin is a preening, self-congratulating anti-revolutionary _fushtir_ who is no use to anyone ever."

The sergeant glanced apprehensively toward the shiny staff car, where the dear colonel stood, preening his mustache like a unblessed aristocrat. Yes, and as expected, he had a pretty peasant girl, and a poor soggy old man in custody. Well, it was not Rozinshura's business.

"What does he want?" he asked the sergeant.

"He wants an interrogation room and a cell to lock them up."

Rozinshura used the inn's tavern room for interrogations, so he sent them there. And as soon as everyone had gone inside, he sent the sergeant to take the colonel's staff car.

Who said Pookiterin never contributed anything of use?

* * *

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### Episode 10 - Dr. Artemus M. Thornton, Professor of... Something or Other

* * *

THE ADVANTAGE OF four – or perhaps five – margaritas was that Thorny did not yet feel terrible, although the joy of the beverage was waning. He sat on a bench in a dark and dingy tavern, next to the poor peasant girl whose name he believed was Lina.

Before him was that prissy, mustache-twirling officer, whose name was something like Colonel Pookie-wookie, but Thorny had learned not to call him that. Thorny rubbed his bruised and swollen ear, and thought he would like to fall asleep, but he knew they wouldn't like it if he did.

The colonel took his time examining the contents of Thorny's wallet, and then finally signaled to one of his men, who yanked Thorny to his feet and shoved him to stand by the table.

"Your name?" asked the colonel.

"Doctor Artemus M. Thornton, Full Tenured Professor!" declared Thorny, who was tired of being pushed around. "And I am a U. S. citizen!"

The colonel, unimpressed, paused to take a note. There was a sound over by the door to the room, however, and Thorny turned to see if someone was impressed over there.

Apparently so. That big Captain fellow made a small sound – somewhere between "ah!" and "hmm?" – and he ambled across the room with a rolling, limping gait that reminded Thorny of the pitching deck of a ship. And given the margaritas, Thorny realized the floor itself also reminded him of a pitching deck of a ship.

"Doctor?" said the captain. "And professor? Then you are a specialist?"

"Professor Doctor Artemus M. Thornton, at your service," said Thorny. "The M stands for... something that starts with an M."

The fact was Thorny didn't have a middle name. His parents had been neglectful of that, and sometimes when Thorny was feeling vulnerable or inadequate, such as now, he added a letter at random just to sound more important.

But no one questioned the M. The captain and Colonel Pookie-something were busy arguing in that funny language they spoke.

Thorny staggered back to the bench and whispered to the girl.

"What are they saying?"

"The captain says that his orders supersede the colonel's authority, and he wants you released into his custody."

"Really?" said Thorny. "What are his orders? They don't involve shooting me or anything, do they?"

"No. The captain says he is to secure all of the train wreck victims and the contents of the train, because it is a matter of national security. Ah, the orders are straight from the Supreme Committee! The passengers are of diplomatic importance."

The colonel turned red and pounded the desk, and shouted and then turned to his soldiers and shouted more.

The soldiers stepped forward, hands on weapons, but the captain just said something soft and sweet, with a shrug and a gesture. The soldiers backed off and the colonel did too, his face red.

"What did he say?"

The girl sat – rigid and bright eyed – with her mouth a little open.

"The captain invited them to have a drink," she said, slowly at first, but then her voice became eager. "And he said the colonel can have him arrested when High Commissioner Vshtin arrives to take charge. Vshtin is coming here!"

Unfortunately, her rising voice drew the attention of the disgruntled colonel.

"What are you saying to each other?" he said sharply.

"Nothing," said the girl.

"She was only translating what you were saying," said Thorny.

"That is none of your business!" said the colonel. And he went over and grabbed the girl by the arm.

"Hey!" said Thorny, and he tried to get up gallantly to defend her, but someone shoved him back into his chair. It might have been gravity. He called to the captain. "Are you going to allow that?"

The captain squinted and did not move. The colonel turned on him.

"You have no say," he said. "She is not a passenger from the train. You cannot wave your orders at me. She is in my custody, and you will not interfere!"

The captain shrugged his great shoulders, and threw wide his hands.

"I have enough trouble," he said.

"You will have more if he proves to be a spy!" declared the colonel and he shoved the girl ahead of him into the next room. The captain lumbered over to Thorny and leaned in to look close.

"I am Captain Rozinshura," he began.

"Captain Rosey-posey! What a coincidence. They call me Professor Thorny!"

"I think you are drunk, Professor Thorny," said Rozinshura gravely. "I must fix this."

* * *

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### Episode 11 - Alex Takes the Direct Route

* * *

ALEX WAS EXHAUSTED from jogging down that meandering road. He had no idea how far he'd gone, or how far he had to go. He heard a car rattling along behind him, and he was glad for the excuse to duck into the bushes and catch his breath.

The car looked like the same one that he'd seen earlier, heading up the mountain. It had fewer soldiers – just one driving, and one on the running boards – but now it was packed with civilians. Alex only caught a glimpse of a man clutching a silk top hat, and a woman in furs, as it bounced past.

Alex didn't expect to see silk hats or furs in this apparently remote location. But the peasant woman had said something about foreigners and a train wreck.

He started to climb out of the bushes, when he lost his footing and tumbled down... and further down and down, through bushes, bouncing off trees, and finally came to rest at the bottom of a steep grade.

He crawled to his feet. He was at the edge of another road. Great. Should he climb back up to the road he knew went where he wanted to go? Or follow this one? And if so, which direction? Up hill looked like it would intersect with the road he had been on. But he also knew he had to go down hill to get to the base of the falls.

Just then he heard a car, and he stepped back into the bushes. The same car went bouncing by. This wasn't a different road. It was the _same_ road. It was zigzagging down the side of the mountain.

Which meant he could save a lot of time by not zigging and zagging himself, but cutting straight down through the bushes instead.

And, it turned out, he could save even more time by tumbling rather than climbing down, which he discovered by accident. By the time he got to the bottom, he looked like he'd been through a train wreck himself. He hoped that would help him explain his presence, his lack of papers, and his confusion at questions. He had a scrape on the forehead that could pass for a head injury.

The town was a little bigger than he expected, and he staggered past a couple blocks of houses before he got to the large open square in the middle. There were people gathered there, to one side. Soldiers and peasants hurried around. Nobody paid him much mind.

As he mingled with the crowd he asked a shivering young woman in a maid's uniform if she'd seen anybody matching Thorny's description.

"Oh, he must be the one they arrested!" she said.

"Arrested? Why?"

"They don't need a reason," she said. "Not the security forces."

She nodded across the square at two soldiers in long gray coats. Most of the soldiers had scruffy, ill-fitting brown uniforms. The men in gray looked more slick.

"I wouldn't ask after him, if I were you. They'll probably arrest you too."

Given that Alex had no papers and no explanation of who he was or where he was from, he thought she might be right. All the same, he asked where they had taken Thorny, and she pointed to a big building across the square, the local inn.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 12 - Scouting Headquarters

* * *

THE HEADQUARTERS WAS an inn, and that meant it wasn't a secure facility, didn't it? It might be hard to find Thorny inside the rambling building, but there were lots of windows and exits for getting out.

Alex wandered over to the inn, aimlessly, as if in shock. Nobody stopped him. The security man went in the front door, and Alex thought that door was probably watched.

The side door was locked, but there was a narrow gate which led to an enclosed stable yard behind. Alex drifted in. The stable yard was surrounded by a wall and looked like a good place to get trapped. However, there were barrels and boxes lined up against the walls. If they couldn't make it to the gate, they might be able to climb out and over, if Thorny wasn't too drunk.

The stables themselves probably had an exit too. Alex started to wander in that direction.

"You, come here!" called a thickly accented voice.

Alex turned slowly and pretended to have trouble focusing on the voice. It was a soldier with an apron on; a cook.

"Come," said the cook. "You need to be with others, or you get lost."

He herded Alex into the kitchen, but there he paused to pour something into a mug.

Alex took advantage of the moment to look around. The room had a lot of doors, and alcoves. Another good place to get trapped, but one of the alcoves had windows - that might be a place to duck into if he couldn't get out the door.

"Drink this," said the cook, handing him the mug. "It brace you up!"

The drink tasted like a cross between yogurt and turpentine but, as the cook predicted, it was bracing. Alex realized he was shivering from his damp clothes. The cook saw it too, and grabbed up an old jacket and threw it over Alex's shoulders. The jacket smelled of the stable, but it was warm. It was also a rusty brown... a uniform jacket of the ordinary soldiers.

The cook was already herding him out of the kitchen and through the building. Alex got a quick look at the layout as they moved to the front door. There were not that many people, which could be good for sneaking around, but also could be bad. There was no chance of blending in. If someone saw him, they'd notice he wasn't where he belonged.

It would also be easy to get lost in the tangle of hallways. It took several twists and turns to get to the front entrance, which was a narrow room, with stairs going up, and arched doors opening to rooms on either side.

Alex pretended to stumble so he could get a better look into one of the side rooms. A rustic tavern, empty except for a tweed jacket hanging on a post. The jacket was wet, and had leather patches: Thorny's jacket. Alex started to head in that direction, but the cook stopped him.

"Come, come. This way," he said gently, and he turned Alex toward the front door.

That was when Alex saw into the other room, which looked more like a parlor. There were the gray-uniformed security men, and in the middle of them sat a girl. She was bundled in peasant clothes, her head covered with a scarf. Her shoulders were hunched with tension, but she held her head high, with dignity.

She turned toward Alex, and he realized she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

Alex decided right then he was going to have to rescue her too.

But then the cook pushed him out the door and led him firmly across the square to where the crowd of train wreck victims milled. A pair of slightly disheveled but well-dressed young gentlemen watched him. The taller one scowled at the cook, but the younger one smiled and said to Alex;

"Nice try, old boy. We didn't even get through the door!"

* * *

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### Episode 13 - Inciting the One Percent

* * *

THERE WERE MAYBE three dozen people milling around in front of the small school building where the wreck victims had been sent. All of them were well-dressed, though some were just well-dressed as servants.

A kid in a maid's uniform sat on the step to the school, trembling and hugging herself. A middle-aged woman in a fur stole and fashionable little hat – with a huge, but broken, feather in it – patted the maid on the shoulder.

The two young men who talked to Alex were standing nearby, the tall one pacing angrily, the shorter one looking amused.

"They're neglecting us," said the taller young man. "They said they would keep us informed!"

"Patience, Freddie," said the woman with the feather. "They can't give us word if they don't have word to give."

"We haven't seen hide nor hair of them since those security fellows arrived."

"Excuse me," said Alex. "You said you tried to get into the building too. Why?"

"We haven't got any luggage," began the shorter fellow. "We haven't got any rooms, or any tea–"

"Basil!" said the other sharply. "I think our cousin is more important than your tea!"

"Sorry, Freddy," said Basil, and he turned back to Alex. "As it happens, we're also out of baronesses."

"Our cousin is the Baroness of Beethingham–"

"A baroness in her own right, no less," interjected Basil.

"–and she has been kidnapped by those bandits who derailed the train."

"Or perhaps killed by them."

"Basil!"

Alex looked around at the people standing there. They looked uncomfortable and disgruntled and worried. Disgruntlement is a powerful force.

"I've got a friend who's missing too," he said slowly. Then he raised his voice so they all could hear him. "Are there a lot of people missing?"

"My companion, Miss Vilthrop, for one," said an elderly woman.

"And Emmett, the undersecretary to Lord Blinkersley," said a man. "Nobody has seen him."

" _Lord Blinkersley_ is missing!"

"No, I just saw him. He's just behind the building, having a smoke.

"Well, I haven't seen anything of my footman...."

Voices were calling out about people and luggage and sore feet. All sorts of complaints. They were ready to turn into a mob. Alex felt guilty for even thinking of taking advantage of that. Still you can't incite anybody who doesn't want to be incited, and their complaints were legitimate.

The question was how to take advantage of it? A diversion, maybe. Or just a covering crowd....

"When you were inside just now," said Freddie, "did they tell you anything at all?"

"No," said Alex. "I only talked to the cook. The place seemed practically empty."

"They've got everybody up at the wreck, I expect," said the woman with the broken feather.

An older man pushed his way to the front. "You're telling me they've got room in there for us?"

"Well, I only got a glimpse. I mean, I didn't see upstairs or into the guest rooms, but there's a parlor and a tavern room which are just completely empty."

"Sounds a darned sight more comfortable than here," said the older gentleman.

"Listen," said Freddie. "Did you see that brute of a captain? The gimpy one with the walrus mustache? He's in charge, you know. We should march in there and take him hostage until we get some answers!"

"Freddie," said the woman. "You're beginning to sound like Basil."

"Not me!" said Basil, "Takin' a hostage sounds like jolly fun, but it also sounds like work."

Alex took a deep breath. Here goes his plan....

"What we should do is take the _tavern_ hostage," said Alex. "As a group – all of us just troop in there and occupy it. You know, like a flash mob."

Which, of course, they didn't know, but they seemed to understand the concept anyway.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 14 - Rozinshura is Disappointed

* * *

PROFESSOR THORNTON WAS feeling the signs of impending sobriety, and he didn't like that one little bit. And when Captain Rozinshura took Thorny's arm and hurried him out of the tavern room and away from that lovely old rustic bar... well, Thorny liked that even less.

Even with the limp, the captain moved faster than Thorny could manage, just like the soldier who had arrested him.

"You people are in too much of a hurry!" said Thorny.

"This is not a hurry," said Rozinshura. "This is the pace of revolutionary progress." He then paused for effect and added, "Also, I am frightened, and you are drunk."

The captain pulled open a door and pushed Thorny into a tiny room packed with boxes, barrels and baskets. There was just space for a desk and a comfortable chair with extra cushions. The captain sat in the chair and propped his bad leg on a barrel. He indicated that Thorny should find a perch on a box opposite him.

One of the soldiers showed up with a mug and a bucket. He emptied the bucket onto the desk. It contained a scattering of personal items, including Thorny's wallet, keys and watch.

Rozinshura took the mug and handed it, along with the now empty bucket, to Thorny.

"Drink this. Try to keep it in."

Thorny took a sip. It was a horrible sludge, and he immediately threw up into the bucket.

"Try harder," said Rozinshura.

Thorny drank again, and it didn't taste quite as bad. He struggled a little, but kept it down, and after a moment, both his stomach and his head felt better.

"You are a doctor," said Rozinshura. "What sort of doctor? You are a specialist?"

"English," said Thorny. "I'm a doctor of English."

The captain leaned forward as if he hadn't quite heard.

"Angliss? What is that? Is it good with injuries? Bones?"

"Only the bones of literature."

"Lita... ligaments?" said the captain. "An expert in ligaments is good! We have injuries and –" He paused to rub his bad leg. "You can do operations, yes?"

"No, no," said Thorny. "You've got it wrong. I'm not a medical doctor. No bones. No ligaments, and I faint at the sight of blood. I'm a doctor of _philosophy_."

"Philosophy," said the captain, and he stared for a moment, and then he seemed to deflate into his chair. He made a rude noise and said a number of things in his own language which Thorny was sure were not polite.

"We have injuries. We need doctors. Awarshi doctors are butchers. Worse than butchers. I would trust my butcher before I would trust an Awarshi doctor."

"I am very sorry," said Thorny. "I don't know anything about butchery either."

"Then go away," said Rozinshura. "I shall call on you if my philosophy becomes broken. Go!"

Thorny paused. "What about Pooki-whatsis? He'll want to arrest me."

"If you sneak out quietly, he may not see you."

"And...." Thorny paused a moment longer. "What about the girl? Her only crime was helping me."

The captain let out a slow sigh and shook his head.

"No, her only crime is that she is pretty," he said. "There is nothing I can do for her. He is a colonel, I am a captain. I could only help you because you are a foreigner, and I _thought_ you are doctor."

He looked down at the wallet and keys and things, and shoved them across the desk. Thorny grabbed his keys and watch. There was a small book lying half across his wallet, and he started to reach for that – just to push it aside – when the captain leaned forward.

"Wait."

Rozinshura was looking at the book. There was a bit of paper sticking out among the pages.

He gestured for Thorny to sit down again and took up the paper. He squinted at it and moved his lips as though deciphering something in his head.

Then, with a gasp, he half rose out of his chair, and then settled back into almost a crouch. He looked up at Thorny through narrowed eyes.

"I think, Doctor Specialist of Drunken Philosophy, that you are a spy after all."

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 15 - But Not a Professional Spy

* * *

ROZINSHURA HELD HIS life in his hands. That little bit of paper with scrawled notes in a childish code: It held the lives of perhaps hundreds or thousands of people. Perhaps the future of all of Awarshawa.

A coup, it said. And names – but no indication of what the names meant. Were they perpetrators of the coup, or targets? And even if he knew which, the conspirators would certainly have allies who were close to the targets.... Who could he trust?

This bit of paper was a bomb, and if he handed it to the wrong person, it would be a disaster. War. A firing squad. Defeat for Awarshawa at the hands of foreign oppressors. Or perhaps local oppressors. He could not know what to do without more information.

He had to find out where this paper came from, and where it was going to.

And the answers lay across the desk from him, in the fuzzy head of that drunken, water-logged old man. Professor Thornton looked back at him with bleary but earnest gray eyes.

"I couldn't be a spy," he said. "If I were I spy, I would know how to get out of this, and I don't."

"Not a professional," said Rozinshura. "When a real spy uses a traveler such as yourself as a courier, that makes you a spy too."

"But I'm not a traveler," protested the professor. "I never go anywhere." The man seemed genuinely bewildered. Rozinshura was nearly sure that he had no idea what he was carrying.

"Where did you get this?"

"I don't know.

"You were drunk. Perhaps another passenger on the train gave it to you?"

"I don't think so. I was never on a train. I was walking home from the restaurant, and I jumped in the river instead, and I came up in a different river altogether."

Rozinshura struggled to understand what the man said. Was he simply too drunk to make sense, or did Rozinshura himself simply not speak Imprish well enough to understand?

"By restaurant you mean the dining car? You were drinking, yes?"

"I was drinking, yes."

"Perhaps you were with someone. Someone spoke to you while you were drinking?"

"Just Alex. And the waitress, but she was too angry to speak with me."

"Who is Alex?"

"Oh, he's a student. But not an ordinary student. Not ordinary at all." The professor leaned forward confidentially. "He's invisible. Not literally, of course – you can't see through him – but he blends in until you find out he's a hero. Like Zorro."

"Like a spy."

"I suppose it is like a spy."

"Did he give you anything? Papers? A book?"

"Yes, he did show me his paper as we were walking out of the restaurant. It was all nonsense of course."

Rozinshura sat back and nodded to himself. Yes, the spy has heard something, perhaps that the train will be attacked, even. Or perhaps he just fears it will be stopped and he will be searched. He slips the papers into the book and slips that into the pocket of the drunk to carry for him.

The captain questioned the man for a while, but he could not get a coherent description of this Alex. It was worse when he tried to get the man to tell him where he had been going. In the man's slurred speech, the destination sounded like _Meesheegun_ , and Rozinshura could not resolve it into any place he had heard of.

But then there was a knock at the door, and Niko, the cook, stuck his head in.

"Kinchin Captain," he said, "there is trouble."

He could hear the voice of Pookiterin calling from the hall behind him. "Where is your security? Get these people out of here!"

Rozinshura quickly slipped the paper into the book and the book into his pocket. He stepped out into the hall, and saw, through the tavern room, the passengers from the train flooding into the building.

* * *

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### Episode 16 - The Flash Mob

* * *

"IT NEVER RAINS except when you have a hole in the roof and no bucket," said Rozinshura to the cook. Pookiterin had gone back to his parlor, and they were alone for a moment, but the crowd in the entrance way was growing and pushing and getting louder.

It drew Rozinshura back to earth – after his short flight of panic over spies and wars and coups and assassinations. That was how trouble was: A small problem is painful. A bigger problem makes you forget the small problems. But a large number of overwhelming problems makes everything ordinary again.

"Kinchin Niko," he said, "we have three catastrophes, if not more. All of our forces are up at the train wreck or chasing bandits or resources. We have Pookiterin in our parlor which is always a bad sign, and I have evidence it's worse than we know. And now we have a crowd of angry people in our vestibule who are too important to ignore."

"And too many to ignore, Kinchin Captain," said Niko.

"And I have a drunken spy in my office, whom I must hide until he is sober enough to make sense," said Rozinshura. "There are only three of us; you, me, and Kinchin Tralkulo. And you, I think, are the key to our salvation. Niko, we must feed all of them well. The crowd, Pookiterin, anybody who opens his mouth to make trouble, put food in it."

"Yes, Kinchin Captain," said Niko.

"Good food. The best we've got."

"Yes, Kinchin Captain."

"Also, I need you to take charge of our drunk." Rozinshura pulled out his storeroom keys and handed them to Niko. "Hide him. Let him sleep until he is sensible. And nobody speaks to him before I do."

Niko nodded his respect and went to fetch the professor. Rozinshura took a deep breath and headed off through the tavern to the main entry, where the crowd was gathered.

Tralkulo was a young soldier, and only a clerk, but she was also wide of girth and she managed to hold the stairs alone, brandishing her bayonet like a recruiting poster. The security men were trying, less successfully, to defend the parlor. Rozinshura had no confidence that they would have the sense not to shoot the Ambassador of Imperia – who apparently hadn't the sense not to shake a finger in their faces.

So he left Tralkulo to defend the stairs and pushed his way through the crowded entry way to the parlor door. He pulled himself up on a bench.

"Please, everyone! You are most welcome, but let us not push or shoot, yes?"

The crowed turned their attention to him, which calmed the security men. Tralkulo raised her bayonet.

"We are sorry if we have neglected you. Please find a place in the tavern or the parlor, and we shall speak calmly, yes?"

"Not the parlor!" said Pookiterin.

The ambassador, an august man with a trimmed white beard and his arm in a sling, bristled.

"The ladies, sir, cannot be forced into a tavern!"

"Your ladies can sit on the ground!" said Pookiterin. He said it so rudely that Rozinshura felt a prickle up his spine.

Pookiterin must know he was talking to the Ambassador of Imperia. He must know there would be consequences when High Commissar Vshtin arrived. Unless... unless Pookiterin believed there would not be consequences. That perhaps a coup would intervene.

The ambassador took a deep breath to reply, and Rozinshura wanted to step in between them, but he was up on the bench, and his leg would not bend. He could not get down without help.

He considered calling to Tralkulo, but then inspiration struck, and he put his hands heavily on the shoulders of both Pookiterin and the ambassador.

"My friends, we have no need to shout!" he shouted, boisterously. He vaulted himself down to land between them, nearly knocking them both over. They were so surprised that they stopped growling at each other. "We will find a suitable place for everyone. Kinchin Tralkulo, help the ladies!"

The ladies had already begun to help themselves by moving into the parlor anyway. Pookiterin raced back in to secure his papers and prisoner.

* * *

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### Episode 17 - Alex Finds a Sock

* * *

THE FLASH MOB had taken longer to organize than Alex hoped. These people were into hierarchy, and they debated over who should go first; the most important or least. And then they had to sort out the list of demands.

When they finally entered the building, Alex kept to the middle of the crowd. He figured that this would bring out every soldier in the place, and he could count them. At first there were only four: the security men and their officer, and the lady with the bayonet on the stairs.

Lord Blinkersley, who was in the lead, tried to address the security men, but as the crowd filled the tiny entrance way, he was shoved right into them. They shoved back and started shouting, and in moments, everyone was shouting. The lady soldier on the stairs with the bayonet came dangerously close to taking off the end of a butler's nose. The butler, crouched like a lineman with two other servants, looked ready to take the stairs from her.

_Diversion achieved_ , thought Alex with a sigh. But he couldn't worry about people getting hurt now. It was too late anyway, and he had to get Thorny. And the girl. He tried to see into the parlor, but there were too many people in the way. Instead, he pushed toward the tavern side. Across that room he saw two more soldiers; his friend the cook and an officer with a walrus mustache. Probably the captain Freddie had mentioned. The guy in charge.

Alex sidled in that direction. He saw the captain give the cook some keys, and the cook disappeared again. The captain then limped with a long rolling gait across the tavern. He pushed Alex aside and waded into the crowd, calling for calm.

"Please, no pushing or shooting!" he called. "You are all welcome here!"

Everyone looked at him. Alex took advantage of the moment to slip away from the crowd, across the tavern. As he got to the door at the other end, he heard a voice protesting in the hall ahead of him.

"Are you _sure_ I can't have a drink?"

It was Thorny. Alex rushed into the hall, but he only caught a glimpse of the cook at the other end, pushing someone around a corner ahead of him.

Alex trotted after, trying not to make too much noise. At the corner he found a short hall, which was empty, but it turned so they must have gone around the corner. He sprinted to the turn, and peeked around the corner, but it was just another short stretch of hall, with another turn. Alex sprinted and turned and sprinted again, until he found himself in a cul-de-sac.

No more turns. No Thorny.

They must have gone through a door. He pulled one door open, and found a broom closet. The next was locked. Then he heard, somewhere back behind him, a door opened and closed. He slipped back carefully, not knowing if they would come this way. He found two more doors back near where he'd started.

One door looked heavy and was locked.

Alex knocked softly on it.

"Professor?" he called. He listened. Nothing. He knelt down and looked through the keyhole, but it was dark.

The other door led to a storeroom full of linens and clothes. Brown uniforms, beige shirts and underwear. Alex didn't have time to change, but the thought of clean, dry clothes was compelling. He grabbed up shorts and a shirt and stuffed them in the pockets of the jacket to change into later.

As he reached down for some dry socks, he saw a sock on the floor. It was damp, and it was green with a knitted pattern of big white block "S" shapes.

That was a Michigan State University sock.

They must have gone into the closet to get Thorny some dry clothes, and Alex had run right past them.

Who knew where they'd gone from here?

The _cook_ knew. And he had been friendly toward Alex. He might be induced to chat.

Alex went off to find the kitchen.

* * *

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### Episode 18 - The Hospitality Committee

* * *

AS THE FRONT hall emptied, Captain Rozinshura cast a glance toward the parlor. He did not want to talk to Colonel Pookiterin yet. Not until he knew more about his spy, and the spy's mysterious student friend, Alex.

"Tralkulo!" he called. The clerk appeared instantly. "Your book of notes, please. And get more paper, you will interview every one of them again, to get a full list of who is here, and who is missing. Also, do we still have that brandy we took from the smugglers?"

"We were going to trade it for a truck."

"Now we trade it for cooperation. Where is it?"

"Upstairs, in the front room."

He looked up at the stairs and his bad leg throbbed at the very thought of hobbling back down with a heavy box.

"I'll get it, Kinchin Captain," she said with a slight smile. "My notebooks are up there too."

She handed him the little book where she'd been taking notes, and he thumbed through it. There was no Alex, or any name like it, listed among the survivors or the missing. He also found no mention of Professor or Doctor Artemus Thornton.

When Tralkulo got back, he traded the notebook for the box, and sent her to the parlor to account for the ladies – and also to see that the ladies were not in conflict with the security men. Then Rozinshura lugged the box into the tavern.

He was immediately set upon by several men, all talking over one another. He nodded gravely, as if he could make out what they were saying.

"All of your questions will be answered," he said loudly. "But first we will have a drink. We sit. Kinchin Tralkulo will go over all the information with everybody to see that there are no discrepancies with our reports from the wreck, and we will all have answers together."

"But my cousin–" began one particularly aggressive young man.

"Is your cousin missing?"

"Yes!"

"Then she is not here, and shouting for her in here will not find her. Sit. We will make a plan."

He had almost the exact same conversation four times before he made it to the bar, though their worries varied: Missing people, injured people, missing luggage, hunger, a more comfortable chair, a cleaner table.

And while the masters complained, the servants began to scurry about to please them, even though some were injured or shaken themselves. Rozinshura restrained his disapproval, and limped behind the bar.

There he found a manservant inspecting the glasses disdainfully. The man began to pump water to fill the washing tub.

"No, no," said Rozinshura. "You are not a servant here. You are equal. You sit."

The valet drew himself up and looked on Rozinshura like a king looks on an insect.

"If we are all equal to drink from a filthy glass, sir, then I decline the privilege."

Rozinshura would have been insulted, but the glasses _were_ dirty. He sighed and set down the box of brandy.

"Perhaps I can help you with your equality," said a female voice.

A woman stood behind him. She was well-dressed, with pearls and a pretty little hat marred only by a broken feather.

"Lady Featherdale," she said, and she flicked a the broken feather, as though it were her trademark. "A little disheveled, but reporting for duty. Shall I play mother? You seem to have enough to do."

She took a bottle of brandy and began to pour a small amount into each glass as the valet washed them.

Rozinshura, finding himself useless, took one of the glasses and drank. The brandy was very good – mellow and warming. It was better to drink it than trade it for a truck.

He took a bottle and slipped it into the large pocket of his coat. He remembered that the spy's book – with its dangerous bit of paper – was in the other pocket. It was time to seek the owner of that paper.

* * *

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### Episode 19 - The Importance of Sandwiches

* * *

THE KITCHEN WASN'T hard to find. Alex just had to follow the sound of clattering pans and swearing in Awarshi.

The cook was the only one in the room, and he was having a meltdown. He ran this way and that, banging pans, organizing things. The only sign that Thorny might be around was some wet clothes drying behind the stove.

"Uh, hey," said Alex.

"Go to the front!" called the cook. "I have no time, I have a hundred people to serve, and they all are magesties!"

"Can I help?" said Alex. Those were the magic words. The cook stopped, looked at him, and then suddenly smiled a welcoming smile.

"You can cook?"

"I can work."

"Good! Good!" said the cook, whose name turned out to be Niko.

Niko took up a tray of pitchers and cups and went to deliver them to the front of the house, while he sent Alex back to the linen closet to get clean clothes. By the time Alex returned, Niko was back in the kitchen was carefully cutting paper-thin slices of some kind of melon. He also had a stack of very thin slices of bread.

"In Imperia, noble people like sandwiches, yes?" he said, hopefully. "Little tiny sandwiches with only butter and a little taste of something. Yes?"

He waited and Alex realized he was asking his opinion. "Um, sure," said Alex.

"I make ham, too," said Niko. "That will keep them until I can make raggoul. Or blootchkes. Everybody likes blootchkes!"

He sent Alex to get a stack of plates and a tray, and then together they assembled the sandwiches and cut the crusts off. Then they cut them into little triangles and diamond shapes. Alex convinced Niko to add a little mustard to the ham sandwiches. They piled the sandwiches as artfully as possible on the plates, and piled the plates on a big tray.

As they worked, Alex tried to ease into a conversation, maybe learn what happened to Thorny. And it turned out the cook was happy to talk. He talked the whole time, as a matter of fact, arguing with himself about what dishes to make.

"Blootchkes with apples, I think. No no no! With potatoes and sour cream. Is that too ordinary? Maybe not... simple is elegant. But potatoes are food for workers. Sour cream with smoked fish! Do I have any smoked fish...?"

Alex couldn't get a word in edgewise. He figured Niko would calm down once he got his menu in order, though. In the meantime the sandwiches smelled good.

Suddenly Alex was starving. He hadn't eaten since lunch at the... at the dorm cafeteria in a completely other world. A hundred years ago, or maybe a hundred years ahead. Or maybe just hours ago, with miles of running and swimming and worrying in between.

He stepped back and collapsed on to a bench. Niko took a fat handful of discarded ham and slapped it between two thick crusts from the bread – not a dainty little sandwich at all – and handed it to him. Alex wolfed it down, and it tasted better than anything he'd ever had in his life. Way better than the wimpy layers of dissolving bread and processed meat product he'd had at the dorm. They'd put that crappy sandwich in a little press and grilled it. It hadn't made it any better.

_Dull reality_ , that's how Aunt Flavia had described the real world. Or what he thought was the real world. Was Awarshawa not real? This sandwich was real all right. That dorm sandwich was not real.

And Flavia said he'd find his place when he'd had enough of that world and its dull reality. Alex laughed. He never realized it was time to go, never saw he _could_ go. Thorny was the one who saw it. Thorny, like a good teacher, had led him here, where the sandwiches were good and things _mattered_.

And now Thorny was lost. _Not there to save._ Flavia's words echoed in his head, but he shook them off. He just had to find where Thorny was. Probably behind that locked door in the hall. But not necessarily.... And then there was the girl. Was she still in the parlor?

Alex jumped up.

"Let me take those to the front," he said, as Niko finished arranging the plates on a tray.

"Are you all right now?"

"I've never been better in my life," said Alex, and he set out with the tray to scout the halls, and find the girl. Maybe, under the guise of a waiter, he'd get a chance to talk to her, to assure her help was coming....

Because once Alex got Thorny home, he'd come back. Not just for the girl, but for himself. Alex had found his place, and even if it turned out to be the worst mistake of his life, it was where he belonged, he was sure.

* * *

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### Episode 20 - Not There To Save

* * *

THE TRAY WAS piled high with plates, and it would be hard to explore while carrying it, so Alex headed straight for the parlor first; deliver the sandwiches, see about the girl.

But there he found Captain Rozinshura was blocking the parlor door as he talked to one of the security men.

"I have no place for you, Kinchin Colonel," Rozinshura was saying. "We are up to our hair in foreigners. You would be better off in the town."

_Crap_ , thought Alex, if the security guys left, they'd take the girl with them. He had to talk to her now.

Alex tried to push past them, but Rozinshura turned and scowled at him. He glanced over Alex, and seemed to be scowling at the uniform.

"Niko gave me these clothes," said Alex, quickly. "Mine were messed up. I hope it's okay." He lifted the tray of sandwiches. "I told him I'd give some sandwiches to the security guys. Are they still in there?"

"I'll take them," said the captain, and he picked up a couple plates and returned to his conversation, still blocking the way.

"I need to go in there anyway," said Alex. "Niko didn't know how many blootchkes to make, so I said I'd count the people."

"Fifty-seven," said the captain.

"In the parlor?"

"In the building. Go on." The captain gestured toward the tavern. "You are not a servant. You are a guest. Go sit. Eat."

"He also wanted to know what kind of blootchkes," said Alex, stalling. "Apple? Potato and sour cream, maybe?"

"All of them. Start with what is fastest. He knows this."

Alex had to back off before he made the man too suspicious.

The people in the tavern met him with a chorus of approval. They grabbed up the sandwiches quickly, and asked for more. He promised blootchkes, whatever they were. When people asked, he faked an Awarshi accent and said; "You like! Everybody like blootchkes! You like apple?"

The plates were quickly emptied and he realized that was the perfect excuse: he could go back to the parlor to gather the plates! He hurried across the hall.

There was no one standing in the doorway now. Alex slipped in. Rozinshura was there, sitting on a stool with his back to the door, talking to some bedraggled ladies.

But as Alex looked around, he saw no sign of the security men, or the girl.

She was gone.

To some place unknown, just like Thorny.

How had he managed to completely lose them both? He heard Flavia's voice again. _Not there to save_ , she said. _So it's not your job._

The hell it isn't! thought Alex. Besides, Aunt Flavia really had been gone, off to another universe. This girl... this _woman_... she was here somewhere.

And so was Thorny. That was his first responsibility, wasn't it? And at least he had some idea how to find Thorny. He could ask Niko. If he could get the guy to talk about something other than food.

Alex was distracted with his thoughts, and almost didn't hear the conversation going on between the ladies and Rozinshura. But then he heard something that got his attention as the shrill voice of one of the women raised above the others.

"Alex?" she said.

Alex wheeled around, but she wasn't talking to him. Nobody was even looking at him.

"I don't know anyone named Alex," she continued. Rozinshura leaned toward her.

"Perhaps I have the name wrong," he said. "We have a discrepancy in our list. Perhaps someone with a name that sounds like Alex? He is young. A student?"

The ladies shook their heads and swore they knew no one on the train whose name was Alex or anything like it.

Alex slipped out into the hall, just out of sight. He tried to listen, but he couldn't hear much from there, except for now and then he heard "Alex" rise up from the murmurs.

Thorny must have mentioned his name, and now they were looking for him. And the more he lurked the more suspicious he would look. He headed back for the kitchen.

Niko didn't know they were looking for him. Alex tried to remember if he'd even given the cook his name. He wasn't sure, but maybe Niko wouldn't remember either. He was so preoccupied with food. Alex could give him another name right away....

But when he got to the kitchen, Niko greeted him.

"Alex!" he said. "Now we make blootchkes. Come help!"

* * *

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### Episode 21 - The Coup in the Kitchen

* * *

NO NEED TO yet. Niko knew Alex's name, but he didn't know anyone was looking for him, and he was too busy to care, right?

Niko went across the kitchen and unlocked a door to one of the larders. It was an L-shaped room, but Alex could see, against the far wall, a bench with a bundle on it. He leaned to get a better look. He caught a glimpse of wild, damp gray hair.

It was Thorny. He was asleep on a bench with a blanket over him

Niko touched a finger to his lips to indicate they should not disturb his sleep, and then picked up large basket of eggs, and handed it to Alex.

"Who is that?" asked Alex.

"He is drunk," whispered the cook. He paused to tuck a bottle under his arm and pick up a large crock of something. "He is sleeping it away."

Niko herded Alex out of the room, and set down the crock to lock the door again.

"But why is he locked up?"

"Rozinshura does not want him to talk to Pookiterin."

"Who's Pookiterin?"

Before he could answer, there was the sound of boots in the hall. Then in walked the security officer from the parlor. He was a tall, balding man in a fancy gray uniform with medals and braid, and shiny boots. He had a pointy waxed mustache which poked out from his face like a pair of darts.

Niko stood suddenly at attention, and nodded with a little jerk that looked formal, like a salute. Since Alex was hoping to be taken as a soldier, he did the same.

The officer barely acknowledged them. He surveyed the kitchen from the doorway, and then declared:

"Yes. This will do."

He stepped across the room and behind him came two soldiers in long gray coats, and the girl – the one from the parlor. The soldiers gave her a shove. She sidestepped the shove and managed to keep her dignity as they hurried her across the room.

"I am commandeering your kitchen," said the officer.

"But Kinchin Colonel, we have orders to feed these people," protested Niko.

"You may work on that side, and you may have that table, but we will take the rest. These tables, the alcove, the pantries," said the colonel, and he turned to Niko with a casual, almost sly look. "Where are your keys?"

Niko paused, and then put on a look of confusion. He patted his pockets.

"Oh, Rozinshura took the keys. He was worried about thieves with so many people here. But it's all right, everything in here is unlocked except the larder."

The officer glanced at the larder door and then said sharply to Niko, "A cook without keys to the larder?"

"I have everything I need for now. I'm making blootchkes. You like apple?"

The officer, apparently, did not like apple. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to one of his minions.

"Search him."

"That is not necessary," said Niko. "We'll open it!" He put a hand on Alex's shoulder. With his other hand, out of sight, he slipped something heavy into the pocket of Alex's jacket – the keys. "Get Rozinshura. He will bring the keys."

Alex started for the door.

"Never mind!" said the officer, like he was just testing Niko's truthfulness. He retreated to the alcove with the girl. His guards settled at a table in the middle of the kitchen, right in front of the larder. Niko let out a long, slow breath.

" _That_ is Colonel Pookiterin," he said, and he took up his tub of sour cream and headed for his side of the kitchen.

Alex stood still a moment. The captain was hiding Thorny from the colonel, and the way the colonel backed off... it was like he was avoiding the captain.

Thorny had somehow got himself into the center of a power struggle, it seemed.

But now Alex knew where he was, _and_ where the girl was. He even had the keys....

And two armed, if unwitting, guards and an officer in his way. Not to mention Niko, who probably wouldn't help. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

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### Episode 22 - Alex Plots a Counter Coup

* * *

THE GUARDS WERE armed not only with rifles and bayonets – which they had leaning against the wall near their table – but also pistols. Pookiterin had a pistol and a sword too. And Niko had a kitchen full of knives. None of them were on alert, but Alex did not see himself getting the drop on one of them, and holding the rest at bay while he woke up Thorny, and got him out of there.

Sneaking would be better. Get the door unlocked, distract people, find some excuse to get Niko out of the room. In the end it was Niko who actually gave form to the plan, when he sent Alex to the cellar to get some wine for the guards.

"Rozinshura says to keep them happy," he said of the guards.

So when Alex found a box of medical supplies next to the wine, he got the idea to make the guards _very_ happy.

But there were no sleeping pills or pain killers, just things for stomach ailments and laxatives. The laxatives might be an amusing way to get the guards out of the room, but it said they took overnight to take effect.

There was a little bottle of ipecac syrup – which would induce vomiting in case of poisoning and undoubtedly worked fast. But if everybody started throwing up, it would be obvious they'd been poisoned. Heck, even a sleep drug might make them suspicious enough to call an alarm.

But if you are drinking you expect to get tipsy. And people who are drunk never seem to realize exactly how drunk they are.

Alex stuck the little bottle of ipecac in his pocket as a back up plan, and went and hunted down a bottle of clear hard liquor.

When he got back to the kitchen, he spiked the wine with a little of the liquor. The security men did not complain, so he spiked it with more, and they got happier and happier.

Unfortunately, Pookiterin only glared at him when he approached, and held up the wine bottle. Still, the colonel wasn't paying attention to the kitchen, so Alex might sneak Thorny out behind his back. How to get past Niko was the real question.

He pondered that as he helped roll up the blootchkes – which turned out to be little burrito-shaped crepes, filled with a variety of sweet and savory fillings. It was getting late by the time they were done. Alex stretched and rubbed his back like it was sore, and put on a pained expression.

"Say, Niko, would you mind delivering this bunch? I'm wearing out."

"Take these up front and rest there," said Niko, without even looking up to see Alex's performance as an invalid. But then he leaned closer and added. "I can't go, I must watch them."

He glanced at the guards. Alex did too. It was too soon anyway. The guards weren't quite drunk enough. Alex refilled their glasses, and went to deliver the blootchkes. He ducked Rozinshura without much trouble, and that gave him an idea: When he got back he'd see if the guards were drunk enough, and if so, he'd tell Niko that the captain wanted him. Then he'd take the guards' guns, hold Pookiterin hostage, and get the girl to help get Thorny out of the larder.

When he got back to the kitchen, though, the atmosphere had changed. The lamps had been turned down, and the guards were dozing. Niko was in the corner, muttering darkly and shooting angry glances at the alcove.

In the alcove, the colonel had removed his sword belt and jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt a little. He hovered over the girl, much closer than before. He reached over and touched her face. She sat like a stone.

Alex set down his tray and fingered the ipecac in his pocket.

"Do you think the colonel wants some wine?" he said.

* * *

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### Episode 23 - Lady Featherdale Gives Evidence

* * *

"PEOPLE WHO KNOW nothing always say the most," said Rozinshura, as he leaned on he bar and looked over his notes.

"Indeed, sir," said the valet, whose name was Marlin Evans, according to the notes. Rozinshura had left Evans and Lady Featherdale to last because they were busy making themselves useful. And given how little the valet had said, he must know a lot.

The captain hobbled around to the back of the bar, and found the two of them, huddled together, covertly pouring cheap brandy into one of the bottles of the good stuff. For a moment Rozinshura was worried that they had run out of the good brandy, but one look in the box showed him most of the bottles still full and unopened.

"Evans thought there is no need to use up your entire stash on people who won't even notice," said Lady Featherdale.

"I think you are Awarshi," said Rozinshura to Evans. "I should call you kinchin."

"You do me too much honor," said the valet dryly. "It was her ladyship's idea."

"There is no one more stingy than an Imprish noblewoman hosting an event," said Lady Featherdale.

"Then I shall call _you_ kinchin."

"Thank you," she said, and then after a pause, she added. "Might I ask, what does _kinchin_ mean, exactly?"

"It means cousin. Everything is family in Awarshawa. Is why we fight so much."

Rozinshura smiled and pulled up a stool. Then he opened his notebook and settled down to business:

"I am told that you two rescued the ambassador."

"We can hardly take credit for that, sir," said Evans. "We simply dragged him along when we made our own escape."

"Do you think the bandits were there to kidnap him?"

"I've no idea," said Lady Featherdale. "But they were looking for specific people. They had a list."

"I heard them ask for the baroness," added Evans.

"That's right," said the lady. "That's when poor Miss Vilthrop stood up. She answered them as if _she_ were the baroness, and that distracted them. We would not have escaped if it hadn't been for her."

Rozinshura flipped some pages on his notes. "Miss Vilthrop is the paid companion of Lady Blinkersley?"

"Yes, and normally she's such a quiet, sheltered little mouse," said Lady Featherdale. "Who knew what fortitude she had inside?"

"The baronessa...is she a diplomat too? Perhaps she carries secrets?"

"Hardly! She's just a wild young twit with scads of money," said Lady Featherdale. "She wasn't even supposed to be on the train. She'd run off with her dance instructor. Her cousins tracked her down, and Lord Blinkersley volunteered to bring them back. I expect that the bandits wanted her for the ransom."

"But she wasn't supposed to be there. How did the bandits know?"

"Gossip, I suppose."

Gossip, or spies, thought Rozinshura. Was there a difference? All opportunists trade in such information.

At this point the blootchkes arrived, and Evans stepped out to snag a plate from the roving waiter. Rozinshura looked at his notes for a moment.

This story seemed to account for two of the missing passengers: Miss Vilthrop and the baroness were taken by the bandits. But there were still two men unaccounted for. Winslow Argoss and Charles Emmett – both diplomatic undersecretaries. One old, one young. A professor and a student? A drunk and a spy?

"Did you see if Mr. Argoss and Mr. Emmett were taken by the bandits as well?"

"I didn't see it, but they were at the other end of the car with the baroness." Lady Featherdale looked at Evans, who nodded in agreement.

"Do you know Winslow Argoss?"

"Not as well as Lord Blinkersley does," said Lady Featherdale.

"I spoke to him..."

"And he wouldn't talk?"

"I think my questions were too indiscrete," said Rozinshura.

"Goodness, what were they?"

"Did Argoss carry secret documents, would he be drunk, and would he give a false name?"

"And his lordship said 'None of your beeswax!'" said Lady Featherdale. "Well, I wouldn't know about the secrets or false names, but Winston Argoss would never be drunk. He's teetotal."

"Are you _sure?_ "

"Yes, I am sure. Why are you asking?"

Rozinshura took a deep breath

"We... have a drunken man who has no papers. We should arrest him, but I think he is from the wreck, and he fits the description of Mr. Argoss."

"I see," said Lady Featherdale with growing concern. "He's an old man. Are you sure he's not just in shock?"

"If he is in shock, he is assuredly also drunk."

"That doesn't sound like Argoss."

"There is nobody else it could be," said Rozinshura. "Lady Featherdale, would you look at him and say if you know him?"

"Gladly," she said, so he pulled himself to his feet and led the way to the kitchen.

* * *

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### Episode 24 - Action In The Alcove

* * *

ALEX FOUND A small glass and filled it with the spiked wine. He poured in a dose of the ipecac, swirled it and returned to the alcove.

The girl was no longer sitting like a stone. She was talking with Pookiterin, looking him firmly in the eye, as if she were interrogating _him_.

"What makes you think that poor drunken old man is a spy?"

"He does not interest me," said Pookiterin. Her gaze was steady and seemed to disconcert him.

"Did he fit a description? What were your orders?"

"He was simply out of place!" he said. He pulled back and went to the other side of the table to face her. Then he paused and suddenly laughed. "You are flirting with me!" he said with a grin. He sat and leaned toward her. "Please continue!"

Now it was the girl's turn to look disconcerted. She stared at him for a moment, mouth open. But then she took a deep breath and continued her interrogation, with a fake simper in her voice:

"All right. Tell me, my precious darling colonel, did you have a report of a spy on that train? Is that why you are here?"

"My interest is in you, my dear," answered the colonel. He got up and unbuttoned one more button on his already loose shirt. "Please, remove the scarf so I can see your face properly."

"I must keep it on," said the girl. "I am bald."

The colonel paused, and a flicker of disgust crossed his face, but then the girl's eyes flicked upward, to the colonel's own bald pate, and he knew he was being made fun of. Rage twisted his face and like a shot, his hand flew forward. But he didn't strike her, he only grabbed her scarf and yanked it off.

She was not bald. She had a thick, shiny head of wavy chestnut hair, cut into a short bob. Alex stepped into the alcove before things could go further.

"Would you like some brandy, sir?"

"Get out!" roared Pookiterin. Alex set the drink on the table in front of him, and backed out – but no further than necessary.

Pookiterin went back to leering at the girl. He put his fingers on the base of the glass... and pushed it toward her.

"Please, for you, my dear."

Oh, crap. The last thing Alex wanted was to make _her_ sick.

The girl looked at the glass with distaste. Alex tried to catch her eye. She glanced up, and he shook his head vigorously. Did she see? She picked up the glass as if she were about to take a drink, and smiled coyly at the colonel. Alex raised his hand signal more obviously, but the girl ignored him. She brought the glass closer to her lips, making eyes at the colonel, who leaned closer, and then...

"No thank you, you old lecher!" she cried.

She jumped to her feet and threw the wine in his face. She then dashed toward the door of the alcove. Alex stepped back to make way, and block any interference from the guards.

But she didn't even leave the alcove. Instead, her fast break was for the corner where the colonel had hung his coat... and his sword belt.

She had his sword before he could even clear his eyes of wine, and she whirled it around over her head. It was a small space, but she managed to not hit anything but the tip of Pookiterin's mustache, which she trimmed as neatly as with a pair of scissors. She then pressed the tip of the sword to his throat.

"Back!" she said. "To the window with you!"

He stumbled backwards, the sword point pushing deep into the soft part of his throat, under the chin.

She backed Pookiterin to the window, and made him open it. Then she maneuvered around and pushed him back. With a quick, backward leap, she was up on the window sill, and then she vanished.

Alex glanced back, and saw that Rozinshura and a woman had entered the room, and had clearly seen everything that had happened in the alcove. They stood frozen in the doorway, blocking the only exit. The guards were half on their feet, but still right in front of the larder.

There was nothing Alex could do for Thorny just now, but he could help the girl. He was closest to the window. He could pretend to chase the girl, and hamper the efforts of others.

Alex went straight out the window.

* * *

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### Episode 25 - The Chase

* * *

BY THE TIME Alex jumped out the window, the girl was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't have made it over the wall or to the stable yet, could she? Then he heard a noise from above. He glanced up, and saw an open window, and foot disappearing through it.

She went back into the building? That was insane.

Just then one of the guards came running out the kitchen door. The man staggered from the booze, but he was on his feet and moving, rifle in hand.

"She went over the wall!" said Alex, and he pointed the man to a pile of boxes. The guard staggered that way and proceeded to fail to climb them.

By this time, the other guard was attempting to climb out the window. His rifle kept catching the bayonet on the window frame.

Alex shoved him back and reached in to guide the gun through the window. Then he grabbed the man's collar and guided him through. The guard fell on his face, and lay still for a moment. Alex was afraid he'd broken his neck, but then he shook his head and rolled to a sitting position.

Alex hauled him to his feet, and aimed him for the fence, where his partner had made it half over. The partner's feet were kicking in the air, and Alex decided that the only thing better than two incredibly drunk guards would be two incredibly drunk guards on the other side of that fence.

So he helped the second guard up onto the boxes and just for the sake of public safety, he held their rifles for them while they climbed. He gave them each a shove, and they fell with a thump on the other side. They grumbled at each other in Awarshi.

Alex leaned over the wall and pointed down the alley and shouted, urgently. "Spushta! She's getting away!"

They ran.

Alex tucked the rifles in behind the boxes, and slipped back to the kitchen to peek in. There were still too many people in the kitchen. Clearly this wasn't the time to sneak Thorny out, but the guards would not be back for a while, and maybe Niko would kick everybody out of the kitchen soon.

In the meantime, Alex had a puzzle to solve: Why had the girl gone back into the building?

Was it instinct? Like a rabbit looking for the nearest place to hide? The girl who swung that sword around was no rabbit, and he was sure her first instinct was not to hide. But rabbit or not, she could probably use some help getting out again.

Besides, Alex had an idea. He had noticed that, unlike the security men, the regular Awarshi soldiers had ill-fitting uniforms – all baggy and loose, and both the men and women wore the same uniform.

The girl might be able to blend in if she had a uniform.

Alex stopped by the linen closet and grabbed some clothes, then headed upstairs to find the rooms above the kitchen windows.

The doors were all locked along that hallway, but he had the keys that Niko gave him.

The first room was full of barrels and boxes. There was a bed, indicating that it had been a guest room at one time, but the mattress was rolled up, and the bed itself was disassembled and leaning against the wall to make room for more barrels. And the second room was the same.

Well, that explained why the Awarshis were so reluctant to invite the wreck victims into the inn. It wasn't an inn, it was a storage depot.

Alex went on to the third room. This one had the bed intact, but it was stacked high with bales of blankets. There were more stacks on the floor, tall enough for the girl to hide behind.

Alex stepped further into the room, and the door slammed shut behind him. He turned, and found himself facing the tip of that sword.

"Why did you try to poison that officer?" hissed the girl.

* * *

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### Episode 26 - Pookiterin In The Corner

* * *

IF HIS BAD leg had not prevented Rozinshura from leaping across the room and throttling Pookiterin with his bare hands, he would certainly have done so. But a warning pain in the knee slowed him down enough to consider his options.

Pookiterin was vulnerable. If Rozinshura pushed too hard, he'd fight back, but if he just let the situation do the pushing for him....

Rozinshura stepped into the alcove and looked around, at the jacket hanging in the corner, at the upturned chair, and the small glass that lay on its side on the table. He picked up the chair and then sat in it with a heavy sigh, and looked at Pookiterin.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Pookiterin bristled. "How dare you question me?"

Rozinshura waved a hand and pulled the good bottle of brandy from the large pocket of his overcoat. He showed Pookiterin the label. The colonel calmed and tilted his head in a superior way.

"Thinking twice about your actions now?" said Pookiterin, with just a slight shake to his voice to say he was not as confident as he seemed.

"I always think three or four times at least, Kinchin Colonel," said Rozinshura politely. He pulled a pair of tea cups from the shelves behind him, and poured. "You know, it's in the rules. Seduction and sexual coercion are not to be used with detainees. It's rule four of the interrogation code. Right near the top."

Pookiterin made a derisive sound. Rozinshura slid the cup across the table to him, leaning forward to make his point.

"I know. Nobody cares, as long as you get results. But when you are alone with a detainee and she escapes, taking your weapon with her, people want to know why your pants were down."

"My pants were not down," said Pookiterin.

"I'm speaking metaphorically, of course," said Rozinshura.

He shrugged apologetically. The colonel took the cup and drank. Rozinshura poured a little more.

"But I have to make a report. The witnesses, who knows what they'll say? And the woman–" He paused and tilted his head. "The way she twirled that sword.... You know, I think she is a Cussar. She must be. They will be upset when she gets back to them and tells them of this."

"You think I care about a bunch of mountain goats and refugees?" said Pookiterin derisively.

"Perhaps not. But I know _I_ would not relish it if Commander Zuzo were to come and demand justice for his kinchin tomorrow." In truth, Rozinshura would relish it greatly. Zuzo was fierce and uncompromising, and frightening to poseurs like Pookiterin. The province of Cussaria had been lost to a neighboring country in the previous war – surrendered by men like Pookiterin – but the Cussars were Awarshi to their souls and kept fighting. Zuzo lead one of the more formidable partisan bands.

"We don't know that she is Cussar," said Pookiterin. "And how likely is it that she belongs to Zuzo?"

"They're right across the river. They come here to resupply."

Pookiterin sat still for a moment and then suddenly he burst out angrily.

"They came here to derail the train!" he declared. "They are part of a plo–"

He caught himself a moment too late. He _did_ know something of a plot. And that plot involved the train.

No one had been to the wreck site except for Rozinshura's people. Whatever Pookiterin knew, it was knowledge he got before the wreck. He might even have known it would happen before it did – or at least that it was likely to.

But was his mission to foil the plot, or help it along? That was the question.

* * *

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### Episode 27 - Which Side Are You On, Kinchin?

* * *

ROZINSHURA THOUGHT FAST. He couldn't let the moment slip. How to get Pookiterin to say more? The man was a lap dog. He loved to feel important. Pressure him and he might shut up. Stroke his ego, and he'd bay like a hound.

So Rozinshura leaned forward.

"Is that true?" he said, his eyes wide with slavish astonishment. "The Cussars did this?"

Pookiterin preened. "We are quite certain."

"But why would the Cussars do such a thing?"

"They were paid. Their loyalty has been bought by certain factions."

Rozinshura did not believe this for a minute. Oh, a band of Cussars could be paid to do anything, but it was not at all in their favor to attack an Awarshi train. This story had the stink of a scapegoat. The question was whether Pookiterin knew it, or if he were just repeating what he was told.

"So there _is_ a plot," said Rozinshura. He uncapped the brandy again and poured a little more, and offered a little more verbal bait to go with it. "That would explain why Vshtin decided not to come here after all."

Now Pookiterin sat forward. Yes, he was interested. It meant something to him, but he waited for Rozinshura to say more.

"We are told he must keep to his schedule in the capital," said Rozinshura. "So I am sorry, but when you have me shot for insolence it will not be in his presence. You'll have to make do with a mere emissary."

The colonel gave a benevolent wave, as if all insults were forgotten.

"We will all miss his presence, of course, but his work in the capital is too important," said Pookiterin. He paused. "He is keeping to his schedule then?"

"That is what we were told."

Pookiterin took the brandy and drank, and smiled a private little smile that sent chills up Rozinshura's back. A man like him loves important visitors. He should not be so happy that Vshtin was not coming. What did it mean?

If Vshtin were to change his schedule, that would disrupt the coup attempt. Could it be that Pookiterin knew of the coup and wanted it to go forward? Or did he think that a return to the regular schedule meant the coup had already been foiled?

Or did that smile only mean that Pookiterin wanted Rozinshura to think he knew something?

Rozinshura poured himself another drink and dropped another bit of bait.

"And now the lines are down again," he said. "No more communications."

"The lines are down?" said Pookiterin, and he smiled a huge smile, as though it were the news he had been waiting for.

In a coup, the first thing they would do was cut the telegraph lines.

Rozinshura drank down his brandy, but barely tasted it.

"Captain, all is forgiven," said Pookiterin benevolently. "Let me have my spy back, and we can all go about our business."

He stood, but Rozinshura sat where he was. It was too late to take back the upper hand, but he had to know more.

"Why do you think he is a spy?"

"That's none of your business!"

If it was none of Rozinshura's business, then it was something more than Pookiterin rounding up suspicious characters. There was a description. Orders. Rozinshura decided to shut up. Now that he let the colonel believe the coup was going forward, he couldn't go back and blackmail him for misbehavior with the girl. Pookiterin was full of confidence again.

"Where is he?" said Pookiterin. He pointed to the larder door. "Is he in there?"

Rozinshura put on his best look of confusion and gave the man a wild goose.

"Why would he be there?" said Rozinshura. "He's a doctor! I sent him to tend the wounded at the school."

"You fool!" cried Pookiterin, and he shoved Rozinshura aside, and ran out of the kitchen.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 28 - The Girl With The Sword

* * *

ALEX STOOD STILL a moment, the sword at his throat.

It was a sabre, and the girl was holding it not with the point toward him, but with the edge angled, ready to slash. Alex's first thought was that she seemed more afraid of him than she had been of Pookiterin.

His second thought was _why?_

"Why did you try to poison that officer?" she repeated, perhaps answering the question.

"I was just trying to help you."

"Are you an assassin?" she said, narrowing her eyes further. "Were you trying to stop him from finding out something?

"No!" said Alex. "It was just a drug. It's anti-poison, actually. It's in my pocket. Can I show you?"

"No. Put your hands on your head and turn around."

When he obeyed, she patted his pockets and found the bottle. She stepped back to read it, and he turned around to watch. She frowned at the bottle and mouthed the words with difficulty. She was a peasant girl and probably couldn't read very well, but at least the writing was in Awarshi. After a second, she looked up.

"It's ipecac," she said, and she almost smiled. She knew what ipecac was.

"That's right. It would just make him throw up. And then I could get the drop on him, and you could get away."

She lowered the sword, although she kept it at the ready. She squinted at him as she thought for a moment.

"Why would you help me?" she said.

"I think you were arrested with a friend of mine. Professor Thornton. He is–"

"Wet and old and drunk?"

"Yes, he fell in the river. Or, actually, he jumped, but he wasn't trying to kill himself. He was just so drunk he thought it was a cool idea."

"He is foolish," she said with a knowing nod. "He talks too much."

"He's a professor," he said. "Words are his business." He paused and then added. "I'm Alex."

"My name is Lina," she said and she rested the tip of the sword casually on the ground. He remembered, though, how wildly she could wield it.

"So you've seen him, then?" said Alex. "Is he okay? Did they hurt him?"

"He'll have some bruises," she said. "Who is he?"

"He's just a professor of literature."

"Why are the captain and the colonel fighting over him?"

"No reason at all. He's just an old man."

She sank down to sit on a pile of sacks, and blew air out between her lips. She avoided looking at him, and didn't question his answer, like maybe she had an answer of her own. He remembered the questions she asked Pookiterin.

"You think my friend was mistaken for somebody else, don't you?" he said.

She nodded slowly. "I think he fits the description of a real spy who was killed in the train wreck."

"And you know something about this real spy?"

"I saw him die," she said. "I was with him. It was no accident."

Alex pulled one of the bales of blankets down and put it on the floor and sat himself.

"Maybe you'd better tell me about it."

* * *

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### Episode 29 - Thorny Revealed

* * *

THROUGHOUT THE INTERVIEW, Rozinshura had been sitting lazily, as if he were indeed a fool. But as soon as Pookiterin was gone, he launched himself to his feet, and made his way across the kitchen with surprising speed to where Niko and Lady Featherdale were waiting.

"Quickly," he said. "That won't keep him long. Where are my keys?"

"Pookiterin threatened to search me, so I gave them to the boy to hold," said Niko. Rozinshura swore softly, and looked at the door. He wondered how much trouble it would be to remove the hinges.

"But I do have my own keys," said Niko, and he produced them from a shelf behind some pots and pans.

"Good man!" said Rozinshura. "Fetch some of your hangover cure too. He will need it."

Rozinshura unlocked the door and roused the old man. Thornton was hard to wake, but between the captain and Niko, they got him upright and had him drinking the cure, and moaning. When he was awake enough, they stepped aside and pointed him to the doorway, where Lady Featherdale waited.

When her ladyship saw his face, she gasped.

For a moment Rozinshura's spirits lifted. She knew him! But then he saw she was not looking at the old man. She stumbled into the larder as though pushed.

Pookiterin was standing behind her with a pistol. Behind him were his two guards – the worse for drink but upright.

"You think I am an idiot?" snarled Pookiterin.

Rozinshura sighed.

"I hoped you thought _I_ am an idiot," he said.

"I knew you had the spy here. I knew it! So I waited to see what you would do when I left, and here he is!"

"My orders are–" began Rozinshura.

"Your orders are worthless!" said Pookiterin. "I heard the whistle of a train when I went outside. Whoever is on that train will be no friend of yours. That emissary will come from General Bargellin, my superior."

"Are you sure?" said Rozinshura.

"Of course I'm sure! What am I telling you?"

"Are you sure it's not Vshtin himself on that train?"

"But you said..."

"I lied."

It was as though Rozinshura had dumped a bucket on Pookiterin's head. The colonel seemed to struggle for breath, but it was no time to celebrate victory. Pookiterin still had the gun and he was pointing it at Rozinshura's heart.

"And the telegraph lines?" stammered the colonel.

"They've been down for a month now. They're always down. It means nothing."

"How did you hear he was coming, then?" said Pookiterin, suspicious.

"We go down to Vinschke every day for orders and messages."

The fact was Rozinshura was lying again; the lines were fine. But he hoped Pookiterin would run to town to ask his masters for instructions.

But Pookiterin only licked his lips in desperation and waggled the gun.

"You and your cook are still under arrest," he said, his gaze darting back and forth, as if he were making up his story on the spot. "You helped the Cussar girl escape. And... and yes, you tried to shelter this spy!"

Was he just planning how to cover his tracks, or was he building up courage to shoot them all? As he dithered, Rozinshura decided to help him make up his mind. The space was small, but he and Niko were to either side.

"If you shoot me now, Niko will kill you," said Rozinshura. "If you shoot Niko, I will kill you."

Pookiterin drew himself up, looking slightly more panicked, as if that had been his plan, but he recovered well.

"You will be shot by firing squad, according to rules. For now, you are all under arrest."

"But what about me?" said Lady Featherdale.

"You will be detained!" shouted Pookiterin. "As a matter of security! Now give me my spy!"

"Why shouldn't he be detained with us?" tried Rozinshura, but Pookiterin swung his gun to Rozinshura's face and seemed ready to shoot in spite of himself.

Rozinshura surrendered Professor Thornton, along with his keys. In only a moment the three of them were locked in the larder.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 30 - Lina's Story

* * *

FOR A MOMENT, Lina evaded Alex's gaze, as if she were afraid to tell him about it. Then she finally just took a deep breath and started talking.

"We were in the woods," she began. "We had heard there were bandits around, so we were scouting for them. Then I heard the train wreck." She looked up finally and continued earnestly. "It was so loud. And there was shooting. I sent my little brother to tell the village, and I stayed low until the shooting stopped. Then I went to see, and I found a man who was shot and dying. He had unruly gray hair like your friend."

"He was the spy?" prompted Alex.

"He said that there would be a bomb at the council in Marvu, tomorrow. And that Vshtin would be assassinated."

"Who's he?"

She gave him a sidelong glance, and frowned. Obviously he should know who the guy was, but Alex wasn't even sure he could pronounce the name. He struggled for a reason for his ignorance, but she suddenly gave him a knowing look.

"You are Freedonian, aren't you?" she said. "You people listen to nothing but yourselves!"

"Sorry," he replied. "So this Vush-teen is–"

"Vshtin!" she said, somehow getting all the sounds into one syllable. "He is our High Commissar. He is popular, but there are some who think he has too easily made friends with Imperia. Assassination will incite all sides. And if they blame it on foreign elements, the whole continent would be at war."

"But this spy said it's not foreign elements? It's an internal plot?"

"Yes, and the spy told me who was good and who was bad in this plot. I wrote them down, but I can't remember them without the paper."

"And where is the paper?"

"I put it in a book. Pookiterin took it when he arrested us. But he didn't ask any questions about it. I wrote the names backwards, so perhaps he thought it was nonsense."

Alex sat back. "I didn't see a book when you guys came into the kitchen. Could he have left it in the parlor?"

She shook her head. "He left it in the tavern when the captain took your friend away. He wasn't interested in my things, only me."

"So it could be still in the tavern with your papers and stuff," said Alex. "Maybe I could get it. I'll pretend I was sent to get your papers...."

"I didn't have any papers," said Lina. "Just the book."

Alex paused. Awarshawa didn't seem like the sort of place people went around without papers. And it was funny how she'd evaded his eyes when she told the start of her story. Was she lying about why she was in the woods? He thought about how she had brandished that sword.

"Lina," he said. "Are you one of the bandits?"

Her jaw dropped for a second, and then she covered her face and started to snort in a goofy laugh that didn't match her beauty – but it made him laugh too.

"Seriously, Lina, you brandish that sword like a pirate, and you don't have papers."

"In the woods you don't need papers!" she protested. "Awarshawa is not totalitarian! Is Anarcho-bureaucracy."

"Anarcho-bur.... What does that even mean?"

"It means in the woods you don't need papers." She shook her head, and then she looked closely at him. "And what about you Mr. Nobody? You are not from the train!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the captain kept asking and nobody knows who Alex is."

"They wouldn't know," said Alex. "We... stowed away. That is, Thorny did. He... had a nervous breakdown and ran away. I followed him to keep him out of trouble."

"Where did you get on the train? What town?"

"I... have no idea. I've been chasing him around for days."

"Did you get on in Ertusk?"

Alex was too smart to fall for that trick – Ertusk, wherever or whatever it was, was probably nowhere near where the train was coming from.

"I told you, I don't know."

"I think you're a bandit too."

"I won't tell if you don't," he said. She shrugged, so he went on. "So you need your book, and I need Thorny, and we both want to avoid the authorities. I think I have a plan."

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 31 - There Once Was a Man From Michigan

* * *

THE COLONEL LED them to the railway station, and then, after a nervous pause in which he paced back and forth, he led them on beyond the station, to a row of small sheds and warehouses along the tracks. He kept glaring back at his drunken guards, as if he wanted nothing to do with them, or with Thorny himself.

And Thorny himself? He felt like a dog's dinner.

And not one of your expensive, gourmet dog's dinners either. A cheap, half-rotten dog's dinner for which there had been a product recall issued.

And yet... for all he felt like death warmed over, he also felt very alive. This was not your ordinary self-inflicted misery of a hangover. Or even the misery of a misspent career. This was visceral and dramatic and gritty.

It was poetic, that's what it was. Worthy of a literary masterpiece. He called out, as words came flowing into his head.

"There once was a man from Michigan, who found himself in a fix again...."

That wouldn't do. He wasn't in a fix _again_. This was the first fix of his ever-lovin' life. This was new and fresh. But Michigan just didn't rhyme with anything else. Except... yes, that would do.

"He hadn't the time, to come up with a rhyme," Thorny continued. "When the rotten guards threatened him... with a gun!"

"Shut him up!" cried the colonel. It was a ringing, pathetic cry, a cry for mercy.

One of the guards swung a wild roundhouse punch, and managed to land it on the side of Thorny's head. Thorny went down on his seat and the guard fell right on top of him, as though Thorny were a live grenade. _My poetry is explosive_ , he thought.

The colonel had no interest in poetry. He paced and seemed to dither, as though not sure what to do next. He looked down on Thorny and the guard with a look of pain and fear. The other guard, who was still standing, looked at Pookiterin.

"Shouldn't we kill him?" asked the other guard.

"Kill who?" said Thorny. In answer, and as if to validate Thorny's poem, the guard pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Thorny's head.

This was more of an existential crisis than he was ready for. He struggled but didn't make it to his feet, while Pookiterin looked around nervously.

"Yes... No! Not here," said Pookiterin. He flinched as a train whistle blew in the near distance. "And not _now_."

"But Kinchin Colonel, maybe now is better. Before they get here."

"Now is not better!" said Thorny. He struggled half up. "You don't know what's coming on that train!"

The colonel flinched again. Yes, Thorny knew what was making the colonel nervous. He had been awake during that conversation in the larder, when the captain and the colonel were arguing over who would be on the train.

"It could be a friend or an enemy, couldn't it?" continued Thorny. "Maybe they want me alive! Maybe they want to kill me themselves, did you think of that? After all that fighting you did with the captain to get me, you're just going to dump me in an alley? Don't be ridiculous! I could be your ticket to glory!"

The colonel stood there, twitching. He looked at his guards and then at Thorny.

"Glory?" he said. "You are an embarrassment! All three of you."

"Then hide us! Then you can find out where you stand with the people on the train, _before_ you do anything irrevocable."

Pookiterin paused, surprised. "Hide all three of you, then? Yes, that will do. There is just time for that."

He directed the guards to take Thorny into one of the sheds by the tracks, while he went off in search of something. As the guards tied Thorny up, hand and foot, Pookiterin returned. He did not enter the shed, but rather swung the door shut. In a moment they could hear the scrape of a latch and then the firm click of a padlock.

All three were now locked in.

"If he keeps going this way, he'll have everyone in the world locked up," said Thorny. The guards simply kicked him.

* * *

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### Episode 32 - The Locked Larder Committee

* * *

ROZINSHURA SAT AT the back of the larder, on the bench, looking down at the odd little book in his hand. Niko pounded madly at the door, while Lady Featherdale stood between them, uncertain what to do.

"Niko, there is no need to make your hand bloody," said Rozinshura, without looking up from the book. "Listen first, then pound if you hear something."

"Yes, Kinchin Captain." Niko, whose hand was sore, hunted down the lid of a crock to pound the door with if necessary.

"Lady Featherdale," continued Rozinshura. "Was that man Winston Argoss?"

"No, Captain, he wasn't."

"Do you know him? Was he on the train with you?"

"I've never seen him before."

The captain let out a deep sigh and rubbed his head. None of this made sense. Lady Featherdale sat down on the bench beside him.

"Do you think the colonel mistook him for Argoss?" she asked.

Rozinshura shook his head.

"This man was carrying a secret message, so... Pookiterin did not make a mistake," he said. He stared for a moment and then burst out rapidly: "But that makes no sense! I do not believe this man is a spy. And I do not know where he came from. I do not know how he gets secrets. _He_ makes no sense."

He looked down again at the book, as though it held answers. It was an Imprish book; a cheap thriller. Such books were popular in Awarshawa, even though Awarshi soldiers and spies were always the villains – portrayed as machine-like and single-minded beasts who kept coming even after being shot or thrown off a cliff.

Not so very different from Awarshi propaganda.

Rozinshura himself liked these books. The fact that the Awarshi were always defeated but never gave up, that seemed realistic enough. He had learned to read Imprish by reading many such books.

So when he saw the childish code the message was written in, he recognized it right away. The boy heroes of these novels always used the same code; write the letters backwards. A silly, easy code a diplomat or a spy would never use.

Would a professor of philosophy use such a code? Would he even read such a book? More likely a professor would confiscate a book like this from his students....

Rozinshura sat up.

Perhaps that was how he got it. He wasn't given the message. He met up with this student named Alex, and he took the book. And then what? How did this man get here, so far from anything, and so very drunk, except by train? _It made no sense_.

"Are you sure you have seen everyone on the train?" he asked the lady.

"The train was a special hired for our delegation," said Lady Featherdale, "so there were no strangers among the passengers. But I don't suppose I know the crew. This may sound very imperial of me, but one doesn't notice a porter or a waiter. They're invisible."

"A waiter!" exclaimed Rozinshura

"You think he was a waiter?"

"Who is invisible, but not invisible? Who becomes a hero to a drunk when he suddenly appears with a tray and a drink?"

"Why, I suppose a waiter would fit that description." said Lady Featherdale. "What's the riddle about?"

"Niko! Who is that boy, the one who was helping you?"

"He is from the wreck–"

"No, he is not. Who is he?"

"He said his name is Alex, Kinchin Captain."

Rozinshura buried his face in his hands. Right under his nose, with the plate of blootchkes. At least it was also right under Pookiterin's nose.

"Did the colonel show any interest in him?"

"No, Kinchin Captain. He was his usual arrogant self and hardly noticed him. That's why I gave him the keys."

"Well, we have an advantage if we ever get out of here."

"Captain," said Lady Featherdale, "do you think they will shoot us?"

The captain paused for a very long time. "Normally I would say no, but if there really is a coup, it depends on who wins. The winners would perhaps worry about how Imperia would react if they harmed you, but if we are in the hands of the losers?" He shrugged.

"Oh," said her ladyship, looking somewhat subdued.

"Listen!" hissed Niko. He pressed his ear to the door. "Somebody is here. I can't tell who. Should I knock?"

Rozinshura nodded. Sooner probably would be better, for shooting or escaping.

* * *

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### Episode 33 - Face to Face

* * *

LINA LURKED IN the hall, keeping watch as Alex peeked into the kitchen.

There was no one there. Not even Niko. But there was a pot simmering on the stove.

"Niko will be right back," he said. "Let's hurry."

Almost as soon as he spoke, someone started pounding from within larder. Thorny was awake! Alex fumbled out the keys.

"I'm coming!" he called. "Hold on!"

The pounding stopped as he got the door unlocked. He pulled it open...

And found himself face to face with Captain Rozinshura.

For a moment Alex and Rozinshura stared at each other. And then each grabbed the other by the lapels.

"Where is Thorny?" shouted Alex. "What did you do with him?"

"Who are you?" shouted the captain, and being the one of greater bulk, he propelled Alex backward and up against the wall. "Who ARE you!" he growled again, his nose only an inch from Alex's.

"I'm nobody," said Alex, just as emphatically. "I'm just looking for my friend. What did you do with him?"

"Pookiterin took him," said Niko. The captain shot him a glare, while Alex made a lurch to get away.

"I have to get him back," said Alex, pulling hard as the captain held tight to his jacket. "If they take him away to some prison or something, I'll never find him."

The captain did not let go, but he made a little sound, and shifted back uneasily, like he knew something Alex didn't. Alex grabbed his lapels again.

"They're going to do something worse to him, is that what you're thinking?"

"What do you think?" said Rozinshura, a little more softly.

"I don't know!"

The captain gave Alex a shake to make him let go, and held him at arm's length to study him, looking him down and then up again.

"Niko!" he called. "Why did you give him a uniform?"

"His clothes were wet," said Niko.

"Completely wet, from head to foot?" said the captain. Niko nodded. The captain murmured to himself. "Like the old man."

"Yes, like the old man," said Alex. "He jumped in the river and I dove in after."

All of a sudden Rozinshura let go of Alex with a shove that sent him back three steps. Then the captain swore in frustration and held up a book for all to see.

"The book is dry!" he roared. "It's not yours!"

"That's right," said Alex.

"Then whose book is it?" the captain called up to the ceiling, as if the timbers could answer. Neither the timbers nor anyone else answered.

"Where did you get the book, captain?" asked Lady Featherdale.

The captain stared for a second at the wall, and then abruptly stalked to the door, calling loudly, "Tralkulo!"

He glanced back at Alex, his eyes a little distant, like he was thinking.

"Who are you?" he asked one more time. "Who is that old man?"

"We're stowaways," said Alex. "He's on a drinking binge. He's been hopping trains all over the countryside, and I followed him to keep him out of trouble. I don't even know where I am."

Alex braced himself for a more difficult questioning than Lina had given him. The captain looked down at the book and thought for a minute.

"You chased the girl," he said. "Where did she go?"

"I didn't really chase her," said Alex. "I just stalled the guards so she could get away."

"Why?"

"Because the colonel is a creep," said Alex. The captain gave him a blank look, so he explained. "He makes your skin crawl. Like a slimy worm."

Rozinshura nodded as though he understood and agreed.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know. Into the stable, I think, but she might have gone over the fence."

The captain looked like he might press the point, but just then the floor rumbled slightly, and there was the sound of a train whistle, not far away. The captain swore and closed his eyes. Then he rushed from the room, shouting again for Tralkulo.

Alex turned to Niko.

"Where'd Pookiterin take him?"

"I think to the train," said Niko. "But he might be running away from the train."

"Great," said Alex.

"But if he wanted to run away, he would go to the station anyway, because that is where they fuel the cars."

* * *

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### Episode 34 - The Cussar Sword

* * *

IT WAS A good thing that Pookiterin caught sight of his reflection in a window just before the train pulled in. His mustache was lopsided! The girl had cut it when she stole his sword. He shuddered with humiliation.

He could not face his colleagues with half a mustache! And if the train were carrying his enemies... that was all the worse.

He pulled out his grooming kit and hastily trimmed and pruned the remaining hair. The light was poor in the dusk, but the reflection was clear enough to see it was presentable.

The train pulled in while he was trimming, but he paused to brush away loose hairs and straighten his collar. The act of grooming was always calming for Pookiterin. When he looked good, he had confidence.

He flicked some dust off his sleeve and reminded himself that, whatever had gone wrong in the capital, he could blame that clown Rozinshura for everything that had happened here. The man was a known liar. If he said anything about the girl, everyone would assume it was a lie.

The first officer off the train was Colonel Sochir. Though Sochir was a rival, Pookiterin was thrilled to see him; it meant he had not been arrested. Things might have gone wrong, but there was no disaster.

Sochir spotted him from the platform, and rushed to greet him. He drew Pookiterin aside, away from the others.

"Is Argoss alive? Has he spoken?"

"He's alive. I have him hidden away. When I heard Vshtin was coming, I thought it best to wait for orders."

"Good man! The plans have changed. It is now critical to blame this on the Cussars, you understand?"

"Yes, kinchin. Of course."

"Has anyone else spoken to him?"

Pookiterin hesitated. It would be best not to hide the fact that Rozinshura got involved.

"We had some interference from the district facilitator–" he began.

"These facilitators are always impudent," said Sochir.

"Indeed," said Pookiterin, warming to the story. "This one is worse than most. I had to detain him."

Sochir paused, and then nodded with a smile.

"Excellent. Yes. I will deal with him. In the meantime, you have an important duty."

"Yes, kinchin?"

"You must kill our spy. Get a car, take him up the mountain to somewhere near the wreck, a little ways away so people will not wonder why they didn't find him." Sochir paused to signal to an officer. In a moment the officer returned with a long package wrapped in newspaper.

"This is a Cussar sword," continued Sochir, quietly, so others wouldn't hear. "You must kill him with this. Hack at him like a savage, and then drive it in deep and break the sword, to explain why they left it behind."

"Is that... necessary?" said Pookiterin. He was not fond of blood work, though he could make his drunken guards do the job....

"It is absolutely necessary, kinchin," said Sochir sternly. "We can salvage everything if we can blame this on a Cussar plot to inflame relations between Imperia and Awarshawa. But if we fail to blame them, then we are all at risk. We are counting on you, Pookiterin. You must do this right!"

Pookiterin clicked his heels and gave a sharp nod of acquiescence. He took the package and headed back toward the shed. He was a dizzy and a little sick at the thought of this duty, but it was important.

There were soldiers all along the tracks, busily unloading supplies from the cars. He hardly noticed them, even when a pair of young soldiers separated themselves from the rest and carried their heavy sacks along the path just behind him.

As Pookiterin reached the shed, he had convinced himself that this duty was so critical it would certainly lead to promotion. It was a job only a truly loyal man would do. He would not fail!

He leaned the bundle with the sword against the wall of the shed, and fished out the keys to the padlock. Just as he unlocked it, though, something large and forceful – like a sack of flour – struck him from behind, and he bounced violently against the wall of the shed, and fell to the ground unconscious.

* * *

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### Episode 35 - The High Commissar Arrives

* * *

"THE RELIEF TRAIN has arrived," said Tralkulo, as she met Rozinshura in the front hall. "And the car is back from the mountain."

Rozinshura sent her to fetch the car and the sergeant. The station was not far, but it was up hill, and with his limp, it would be slow going. Besides, he needed to talk to them both as they went.

The sergeant reported that they had accounted for more names. All of the missing crew members were dead, as was one of the four missing foreigners.

"Winston Argoss?" asked Rozinshura.

"Yes, Kinchin Captain. It appears he was shot by the bandits while he ran away. He was found in the woods."

"I want to hear from whoever found the body. I want to know of anything unusual found in the area. Also, if anyone has found lost clothing."

"There's a lot of clothing in the debris, Captain."

"I mean away from the debris. Something... dropped. Anything that does not belong in the woods." He paused. "We must find out about this Cussar girl Pookiterin arrested. Is she from a village, or did she come across the river?"

He glanced at his sergeant. The man was exhausted, and in despair over the additional orders.

"Never mind; She's long gone. We may find her later," he said. "For now, everyone to the kitchen to eat, and rest and help Niko."

Rozinshura pulled out the book, and once again considered the note. He had no one to explain it, so this was all the information he would get: A coup. A bomb to kill High Commissioner Vshtin, tomorrow. And a list of names.

If it could even be called a list. The names were scattered and squeezed in, as if the person who wrote them were taking notes and didn't know how many there would be. They seemed to be in two groups. People to be assassinated? The assassins themselves? People to trust or mistrust?

There was only one name there whose part was obvious. Vshtin. The High Commissar could be a zealot, but not so much that he would assassinate himself. But, for all Rozinshura knew, the traitors could be on the train too. It would be best to tell Vshtin without alerting anyone else. Rozinshura could imagine a bloodbath on the station platform, if they thought their plot was uncovered.

He sighed and climbed out of the car.

The platform was covered with security men. That in itself was alarming, but there were also regular soldiers and workers unloading relief supplies from the train. Still, Pookiterin might already be there, giving his tale of traitorous locals.

If so, his best defense was to cloak himself in duty and self-confidence. He grabbed Tralkulo and bulled his way in among the workers. He took their reports. They had supplies and workers and even two doctors. Good doctors it seemed, but he had no time to see if they were surgeons.

He made a great show of his authority, and directed them all to where they should be. And then, having built up steam, he headed over to make his entrance on the platform.

The guards were not impressed when he told them he was the district facilitator.

"No admittance!" they said.

"By whose orders?" he replied, pretending astonishment.

"Colonel Sochir."

Sochir's name was on the list, set aside a little from the others. Still, good or bad, he was closer to Vshtin than Rozinshura.

"Where is he? I must speak to him at once."

"He is busy."

They stood there like stone, three young men trained to yield nothing. They were prepared for any assault except, perhaps, for being asked their opinion.

"Then I'll report to you," said Rozinshura. He took a deep breath, and started to tell a wild tale of impossible problems, but just then a voice from the other end of the platform hailed them.

"Kosha Rozinshura! My kinchin!" called a strong voice; the voice of an orator.

And there came the High Commissar himself, hailing Rozinshura by his nickname, as if they were old childhood friends.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 36 - Finding Thorny

* * *

AS SOON AS Pookiterin hit the ground, Alex jumped forward to snap the padlock shut – to keep the guards inside. Then they dragged the colonel into the space behind the next building.

The plan was pretty simple. Alex and the colonel were about the same height. They'd take Pookiterin's uniform, and Alex would pretend to be an officer newly arrived on the train. That should be enough to fool the drunk guards. He'd question them to find out where Thorny was, and send them away.

They stripped the unconscious colonel of all his clothes down to his long underwear. Silk underwear.

"Very revolutionary," said Lina.

"I'll need the sword," said Alex, as he finished changing. Lina, who'd been porting the sword around like a prize, looked doubtful.

"Why?" she said.

"Because it's a part of the uniform. It'll look wrong if I don't have a sword. And you look wrong as an ordinary soldier carrying it around like an umbrella."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"Well enough," said Alex. "But I won't need to."

Pookiterin stirred, and they paused. Lina handed Alex the sword, and took up the belt of the uniform Alex had discarded. She tied the colonel's hands, while Alex slid the sword into its scabbard.

"Listen, I meant to tell you," said Alex. "The captain has your book. He knows it's important too, so I think he read the note."

She looked up and then back toward the inn, thinking.

"I'll help you get it back," said Alex.

"No, no," said Lina firmly. "You have to help your friend."

"All I have to do is get to the river. We've got... transportation there. I can come right back."

"Don't bother. I won't be here," she said. "I am a bandit, remember? I have my own kinchin here."

"You do?"

She rose and looked at him with a frank smile.

"You helped me very good," she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him, quickly.

"You're... welcome," he said, but she was already headed back to the shed. She scooped up the keys and unlocked the padlock.

One of the guards tumbled out, so Alex had to go into his act. He shoved the man back into the shed and shouted at him.

"Who are you? You are a disgrace!"

The other guard was asleep across the top of a box. Thorny was prone on the floor, and for a moment Alex feared he was hurt or dead, but then he moved. He was only tied up. Alex marched over and shouted at the sleeping guard.

"I am Colonel Sanders!" he said. "We have an emergency. Take the car which is fueling at the train station and meet Pookiterin behind the inn, by the stable. You will wait for him there."

"But the prisoner," said the first guard.

"I will take charge of him! Now, spushta!"

He chased them out of the shed, and then ran back to free Thorny.

The knots were very tight. He used Pookiterin's sword to cut the gag, carefully, so as not to accidentally slice off an ear or anything.

The old professor spit and coughed for a moment once the gag was out, and then with a dry moaning voice began to speak.

"I thought I was going to die. I thought I was dead. I thought I could write poetry!"

"You were right on every count," said Alex. He got the ropes cut, and then pulled the man to his feet. "I'll explain later."

"Is this explainable?" asked Thorny incredulously. "If there is an explanation, I'd like to hear it. I didn't think there was one."

Before Alex could explain, Lina called urgently.

"There are soldiers outside."

"Don't worry," said Alex. "We're in uniform. We can walk right past them."

"They'll find Pookiterin!" said Lina. Alex peeked out the door. She was right; the soldiers were getting close to where they'd left the colonel. Lina pushed Alex aside. "I'll distract them!"

She raced out of the shed, calling to the four soldiers on the road.

Alex wanted to call her back. Those soldiers were so close to Pookiterin, that a single moan would find him... and then Lina would be recognized.

But the longer Alex delayed, the more chance that she'd be caught. He took Thorny's arm and the pair of them marched out of the shed, and down the road.

As they turned down a narrow and steep road that went to the river, Alex glanced back.

Lina and the soldiers were out of sight.

* * *

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### Episode 37 - Run For The River

* * *

THOUGH THEY COULD see the river from the high road beside the railroad tracks, there was no direct route through the tangle of houses and walls on the hillside between. They wove to and fro among the houses, listening for sounds of pursuit behind them.

Alex wanted to get to the water while you could still see reflections. He didn't know how the ring's magic worked, but the reflections might be necessary. Besides, there were soldiers and security guys all over. They needed to just get out of there as fast as possible.

They came to a dead end, and then another dead end, and around and back, and then, suddenly, they came on a main crossroad, with the river on the other side of it. Just here a wall blocked access, but further down the wall gave way to a fence, which had an opening that gave access to the water below.

A lone figure hurried along the road. Alex and Thorny pulled back into the shadows. They almost didn't recognize the man, who was now dressed in a sloppy uniform – probably the uniform Alex had discarded.

It was Pookiterin.

He trotted along, determined and wary, carrying an ornate sword. It wasn't as long as a sabre or as heavy as a cutlass, but it looked wicked as it glinted in the twilight.

He stopped at the spot where you could go down to the water, and scouted, looking down at the boats and across the river. Then he turned and looked up and down the road.

He must have heard when Alex told Lina he was headed for the river. And now he was waiting for them.

Or maybe not. After a moment he crossed the street, as if he were going to search among the tangled alleys among the houses. Good! He was starting at the other end, so maybe they could sneak out while he searched.

Alex gestured for Thorny to stay put and slipped out further to watch where Pookiterin went. For a moment the man disappeared as though going up an alley, but then Alex saw movement. He'd have missed it except that the sky still reflected on a wall further on, and Alex could see the man's profile, waiting in the shadows. He wasn't searching the alleys. He was watching for them.

Just then there was a glint of steel and Alex could see the sword again.... And suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Alex took a deep breath and pulled back into the cul-de-sac. He pulled Thorny along with him.

"Thorny, listen. I need you to do something." Alex slipped off the ring his aunt had given him. "This ring is what brought us here. It's magic. That's why my aunt told me to wear it and go jump in a lake."

Thorny stared at the ring. Alex wasn't sure he comprehended what Alex was saying, but the man took the ring and squinted at it.

"I need you to wear it," continued Alex, "so I don't lose it in the fight."

"Fight?" said Thorny with alarm.

"I'm going to have to distract Pookiterin so we can get to the river. I'm going to go... challenge him. Then you run straight for the river and jump in. Got it?"

"No, I _don't_ got it," said the old man.

"I know it's hard to understand, but just trust me. Wear the ring, and jump into the water, and it will take you home."

"I've got _that_ ," said Thorny. "What I don't got is... what about you? If I jump in without you, you'll be left behind!"

"Don't worry about me–"

"I'll worry about you if I like!"

"Professor, I'm supposed to be here. I'm _from_ here. I'm a misplaced hero, remember? This is my place. And it's my duty to get you home. So don't argue."

"But...." The old man scowled at the ring, and hesitated.

"Thorny, you've got to escape now, while you can. You got no money, no place to go, no papers, you don't know the language. If you get stuck here, they're going to shoot you for being a spy."

Thorny still stared at the ring for a moment, but then suddenly he slipped it on.

"All right," he said. "All right, but you come along if you can. For all we know, I'll end up in some other world altogether. I don't want to be alone there, and sober too."

"Good!" said Alex. "So here's what we're going to do...."

* * *

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### Episode 38 - Sword to Sword

* * *

ALEX STEPPED OUT of the alley and made his way along the road. The shadows were long and he stuck to their darkness until he was as far as possible from the alley, then he stepped forward and drew the sword.

It made a sharp metallic ring as he drew it, and Pookiterin turned immediately, his own sword raised and at the ready. It was a wicked-looking thing – ornate and heavy, and slightly shorter than the sabre Alex carried, but with both a sharp point and an edge. He didn't know where Pookiterin got it.

"Who are you?" called Pookiterin. Alex stepped more fully out into the light. Who was he? Zorro? The Avenger? The Scarlet Pimpernel? Alex had no idea. He had no real identity. Then a line of poetry hit him – probably Thorny's influence.

"I'm Nobody," he announced and tilted his head. "Who are you? Are you nobody too?"

Pookiterin looked him over, and recognized his own uniform. And then he sneered, and glanced up and down the road as if looking for others, or maybe traffic. Seeing none, he turned his back on Alex and stalked across the road, to the opening in the fence which led down to the river.

"That's no way to treat an armed opponent!" called Alex.

"You're nobody," said Pookiterin, without looking at him. His eyes were studying the shadows where Thorny was lurking. Alex had to distract him before he spotted the professor.

"Well, I did take your uniform," Alex said. Alex circled around as he spoke, hoping to force the colonel to look away from where Thorny was creeping along in the shadows.

"And I've got your sword," he continued, taunting on while Pookiterin said nothing. "Well, the _girl_ actually took it from you, but I've got it now.... And you don't care? Is there something wrong with this sword?"

Pookiterin clearly wasn't into swashbuckling banter, nor did he see Alex as a threat. Maybe Alex was too far away. He circled back into Pookiterin's line of sight, and then lunged at him, picking up speed as he went.

But just then, as Alex thought he was going to have to run the man through to get his attention, Pookiterin saw Thorny.

The colonel lurched forward, his attention like a laser on the old man in the shadows. The moved took Alex by surprise, but he managed a backhand slap at the colonel's rear end.

The man wheeled around, his sword swinging down and around in a move which Alex merely dodged rather than engage.

And it was then that Alex registered that Pookiterin had been running toward Thorny with the sword raised high, like he was going to bring it down on old man's head. Not like he was going to capture him or take him hostage.

"You're trying to kill him?" said Alex.

Pookiterin answered with another thrust, this time coming up from below as if to gut Alex. Alex beat the blade aside and then, his blade being low itself, he jabbed at the man's knee.

Pookiterin leapt back and parried in one fluid motion that said the man had experience with a sword.

But then he turned and raced again toward Thorny, who ducked behind a rain barrel. Pookiterin's blade chopped into the barrel like an ax, and stuck there just long enough for Thorny to roll away out of reach.

Thorny was unarmed, harmless. And this guy was trying to kill him.

Alex would have run him through, if the man hadn't also thrown himself to the ground, rolling and pulling his sword free in one motion that pulled the empty barrel over and rolled it into Alex.

Alex shoved the barrel back at Pookiterin. The colonel was now cornered in the opening of the alley. Alex called to Thorny.

"Run. Hit the river now!"

Thorny scrambled off.

Pookiterin kicked the barrel back at Alex, and Alex shoved it back again.

"Forget it," said Alex. "I won't let you have him."

"I will kill him," said Pookiterin, his voice suddenly flat and quiet with determination. "I will cut him to ribbons."

"Why?" asked Alex as they continued to shove the barrel back and forth. Pookiterin made it to his feet.

"Others have let my superiors down," said Pookiterin. "But I will not. I will do what no one else can do, and I will be commended for it."

"You're doing this for a gold star?"

"Yes, for a general's star."

And then, suddenly, Pookiterin attacked.

He slashed at Alex's face, and only missed taking out both eyes because he misjudged the length of the shorter, heavier blade.

Alex rocked back and couldn't even get back _en garde_ before Pookiterin leaped up to the top of the barrel and used his momentum to roll himself forward.

As he leaped nimbly to the ground, Alex revised his opinion of the man's competence. He might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer... but he knew how to _use_ the sharpest knife.

And just now, as Alex barely parried a flurry of slashing strokes, he wasn't at all sure if challenging the man to a duel had been such a hot idea.

* * *

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### Episode 39 - Rozinshura vs. The Plot

* * *

ROZINSHURA HARDLY PAID attention as High Commissar Vshtin greeted him effusively.

"Kosha! My kinchura!" the commissar cried, and he took Rozinshura by the shoulders and gave him a kiss on each cheek.

They were not _kinchura_ – that is, not close – though they had been _kinchin_ , back in the First Revolution. Rozinshura had been an awe-struck boy, fetching water and carrying messages for the band of men who led the revolution. Vshtin had not been so much older, a young professor who out-shone the old men with his cold but clear ideas about how to use bureaucracy to make anarchism work.

But now it seemed the cold intellectual had learned to be a politician, smiling and flattering local officials... or perhaps he was just nervous of those around him, and seeking an ally.

Rozinshura might have been flattered in other circumstances, but just now, he could only think of one thing:

There were three dozen security men on the platform, crowding around, and listening to everything they said to each other. Who knew if they could be trusted? Perhaps some of them, but if there were a coup planned, perhaps none.

Vshtin had his own bodyguards, wary men dressed just like him in cloth caps and canvas coats. They could probably be trusted, but there were only four of them.

Rozinshura needed to change the odds. He needed an escape, a fortified room, a bunker, something to separate them from the others.

Rozinshura needed a car.

A car had only so much room; with Rozinshura, Vshtin, a bodyguard, and Tralkulo driving, there would be hardly any room for enemies. The odds would be even enough for a short time so Rozinshura could speak.

And a car could flee, if that turned out to be best.

So Rozinshura smiled and dissembled like a flattered official and then said quickly:

"You will want to see the Ambassador, of course. He is injured, you know, but doing well." Then he shouted for Tralkulo to get the car and turned back apologetically to Vshtin. "My leg. I am very slow on foot."

"Perhaps you should stay behind, then," said one of the security officers with a sneer.

"No, no, Colonel Sochir," said the High Commissar. "This man stopped a runaway caisson with that leg. Have respect."

Rozinshura looked closely at Sochir. His name was one of those on the list, set aside a little by itself, as though it were important. The man studied Rozinshura just as shrewdly, and then gave a little nod of respect, and began to gather his men to provide security for the short trip to the inn. And Rozinshura heard him tell one man to drive. Sochir planned to take control of the car when it arrived.

It took longer than expected for Tralkulo to get the car. Rozinshura filled the time by starting his report to Vshtin. He listened for the rattle of the old engine and positioned himself near the top of the stairs, in hopes of beating Sochir to the car. With only one good leg, he'd have to jump, but there was a railing to guide his fall.

But then, just as he heard the sound of the car, he also happened to see something else.

Down the road, two figures stepped out of the shadows and made their way along the road. It looked like Pookiterin and the old drunk. Or almost like them. Rozinshura squinted closer, and in a moment everyone turned to look at the two figures who quickly disappeared down a side road toward the river.

"Was that Pookiterin?" said Sochir, suddenly distracted from his plans.

"I think so," said Rozinshura. But then another figure appeared, in a drab brown uniform. But he walked with excessive pride – upright, strutting – and there was no mistaking him. "No, I think _that's_ Pookiterin."

Sochir jumped down the steps to get a closer look. Rozinshura took advantage of the distraction to launch himself down the stairs and greet Tralkulo as she jumped out of the car. He tried to hurry her back to the driver's seat, but she paused to stammer out an apology.

"I am sorry I took so long, Kinchin Captain," she said. "There were two security men who tried to take the car from me. But they were drunk so I was able to push them aside."

"Security men?" said Sochir, who had now returned. He looked at his own men, who shook their heads and looked surprised. "Who were they?"

"They were Pookiterin's men," said Tralkulo.

Sochir took a sharp breath and glanced at his own lieutenants and then at Vshtin.

"This is not...," he stammered. "This is not... right, Commissar." But then he pulled himself together. "Pookiterin has behaved strangely lately." He glanced uneasily at Rozinshura as if unwilling to say much in front of him.

"That is true," said Rozinshura. "He has been behaving strangely. Perhaps you should investigate."

Vshtin said, simply: "Go."

Sochir nodded his respect and took some men with him. Vshtin sent the rest ahead to the inn to meet them. Then he and Rozinshura and two of the bodyguards got into the car.

"Now," said the High Commissar, "what is it you wanted to tell me in private?"

"Someone plans to kill you," said Rozinshura. "Tomorrow, with a bomb, in Marvu."

"Then it is good that I am not in Marvu," said Vshtin slowly. He thought a moment and then nodded to Tralkulo. "Let us take the long way, so you can tell me more."

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 40 - The Skin of His Teeth

* * *

FRANKLY, ALEX WOULD be perfectly happy to run away right now. Pookiterin was clearly the more deadly swordsman.

But he couldn't run until Thorny was safe, and Alex felt his own bladework was just good enough to keep Pookiterin occupied, mainly thanks to Aunt Flavia teaching him to break rules. It also helped that the colonel wasn't used to the weight and shape of his sword. He kept misjudging his reach and swinging too hard.

But, man, those hard swings were enough to take a limb off, if any were to connect.

Alex jumped back and stumbled over the lid of the barrel, which was lying in the street. He went down on one knee and saw that the lid had a handle. He grabbed it with his left hand as Pookiterin swung once more. He smashed the lid up into the swing like a buckler, deflecting the blade to his left, and laying the colonel open to a thrust of his own.

He snagged his shirt, but he didn't think he landed more than a graze. Pookiterin swung away... and then dashed off.

He was after Thorny again. He ran for that opening in the wall that led down to the river. Thorny wasn't in sight. He'd had plenty of time to make it to the river. If he was gone, this was Alex's cue to stop fighting and run.

Alex raced to the wall and looked down.

Thorny was right there by the river, standing on a little floating dock or raft. He stood there, anxious, but he didn't jump in.

"Thorny, JUMP! NOW!" called Alex.

Thorny gestured for him to come. He was waiting for Alex. _Crap!_

Pookiterin had made it to the opening in the wall and threw himself around the corner to run down the steps. The hillside was steep, and the steps zigzagged down.

Alex hurled the barrel top at Pookiterin's head to slow him down, and then jumped the railing to drop to the bottom of the stairs before the colonel could get there.

He landed hard on the edge of a step and he felt his left ankle go out, just as Pookiterin lunged at him. Alex gripped the rail with his left hand and parried just in time to save his head, but the colonel had momentum, and he forced Alex's blade aside in a sliding disengage that cut down into Alex's thigh.

Alex let out a yell, and swiped his sword back at Pookiterin's head. The colonel fell back and took up the barrel top, and blocked the cut, then smashed wooden lid back at Alex, who fell back on his bad ankle.

Then the colonel drew back and then jumped the railing himself, down to the beach and rickety boardwalk that led out to the little floating dock.

With one twisted ankle and a pierced thigh, there was no way Alex would catch up with him. He screamed for Thorny to jump, again, and then pulled himself up and dropped over the railing too.

He fell with a thud and lost his sword and almost his consciousness as he hit. The sprained ankle was much worse than the cut leg.

Pookiterin had taken the time to run around a jagged bunch of rocks which broke up the beach, and separated them from Thorny. Alex was now actually closer to Thorny, but with no hope of reaching him across those rocks.

Thorny gestured for Alex to come. He was at least at the very edge, but he didn't jump in. Pookiterin was already charging up the dock. Alex picked up the barrel top and hurled it, frisbee-style, at the old man.

It hit Thorny right in the mid-section and down he went. Pookiterin was right there, and his sword sang past the old man's head.

Alex honestly wasn't sure if the sword might have cut him as he went down, might even have killed him. But he didn't think so, and as Thorny hit the water, there was no splash. The ring's magic must have done its work.

Pookiterin nearly fell in after, but he caught himself. He looked at the water, this way and that, waiting for Thorny to come up.

Alex's right leg burned with that cut, and didn't want to work right. The sprain in the other leg hurt like hell. He couldn't run. His sword had fallen among the jagged rocks, though, not far. If he couldn't escape, at least he could fight.

Pookiterin continued to pace and squint at the water, as though expecting Thorny to appear from under the dock at any moment.

Alex reached for his sword, and then...

_BANG!_

A bullet struck the rock near his hand.

It came from the top of the stairs. Alex flinched back and rolled into the lee of the steps. Another bullet struck the gravel near his feet and a third bit into the steps themselves.

Alex was, by now, out of the sight of the person at the top of the stairs and he scrambled and rolled along the shelter of the step-wall, until he came to an area where small boats had been drawn up on the beach, mostly hull side up, as if for repair.

Alex dropped between them and risked a look back at the top of the steps.

There was another security officer up there, looking out at Pookiterin.

"Have you done it?" he called.

"I have killed him!" called Pookiterin, and he brandished the sword, which you could see had blood on it when the light glinted off it. Alex hoped it was his blood and not Thorny's. "I have killed him as you asked!"

If Pookiterin was hoping for a gold star, it didn't look like he was going to get one. The other officer raised his gun and pointed at Pookiterin.

But then the raspy horn of a car sounded, and the officer quick turned around, and put the gun away.

Alex took advantage of the moment to roll under a boat which was upturned on some logs on the beach. There, he very nearly passed out, and hoped that he hadn't left too obvious a blood trail.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 41 - Is It Murder?

* * *

BY THE TIME they circled the town and turned back toward the inn, Rozinshura had told as much as he could tell – except for the names, which he would not tell if he didn't know what they meant. High Commissar Vshtin was thoughtful, and only asked cautious questions. Rozinshura wondered if he knew more about the coup than Rozinshura did.

They came over the hill which gave them a view of the town, and from there they could see the river. The angle of the road was such that everyone, even those in the back seat, had a clear view.

Just ahead, on a small dock, a figure stood. It was a small figure, seen in silhouette, but he looked like the old drunk, Professor Thornton. The hair, the slight pot-belly.

Another figure lurched at him with a sword, and Thornton fell into the river.

Tralkulo slammed on the breaks and looked back, eyes wide.

"Did he kill him?"

No one was sure, and Rozinshura felt a tight knot in his gut. He didn't even stop to think that he had the High Commissar of Awarshawa in his car.

"Go!" he said. "Hurry."

No one argued, the car careened down the hill, and came up the river road. Several security men ran down the road, toward the spot where the steps led down to the river.

At the top of those steps stood Sochir. He ran to greet them as the car pulled to a halt.

"Colonel Pookiterin has killed one of the Imprish diplomats," he said breathlessly, as everyone got out of the car. By this time two of Sochir's men had joined them.

Rozinshura went to the top of the steps and looked down toward the dock. Pookiterin was halfway up, dressed like an ordinary soldier. He carried a Cussar ceremonial sword. An odd juxtaposition, especially with the blood on the blade.

The blood of a harmless old man.

Sochir continued his excited report to Vshtin, and his voice rose as he made the accusation: "He murdered Winston Argoss. I saw it. He is in disguise... and look at that sword! I think he was trying to silence the man and frame the Cussars for the incident...."

Rozinshura could see Pookiterin's face as Sochir spoke these damning words. Pookiterin was surprised to hear them. Shocked, betrayed. The look gave Rozinshura pause.

Pookiterin was a lapdog. He only did such things for two reasons; to make himself look good, or to please his superiors. This did not make him look good, and clearly he expected something more positive from Sochir, therefore....

Rozinshura turned to look at Sochir, who continued his accusations with a self-satisfied air, telling of how Pookiterin was known to be following Argoss, and was spotted meeting with bandits only two days ago. A polished story, all ready for the telling.

"That was not Winston Argoss," Rozinshura said sharply. "That was a harmless old man. Argoss died in the train wreck this morning. He was shot by the bandits."

Sochir stopped, mid-sentence. He scowled at the interruption, but he could not ignore what was just said, and now everyone was looking at him.

"You must be mistaken," said Sochir after a moment.

"No," said Rozinshura.

"He _must_ be Winston Argoss!"

Pookiterin saw his opportunity, and he strode forward, head high, his life in his teeth.

"Rozinshura is correct!" he declared. "That was not Winston Argoss, that was the _murderer_ of Winston Argoss!"

Sochir stammered, and everyone else looked at one another. Pookiterin warmed to his tale.

"I have been tracking them for... for weeks! They are foreign agents attempting to assassinate their own ambassador. I nearly had them, but they waylaid me. They took my uniform in hopes of infiltrating the train... and they had this sword. They were planning to frame Cussar rebels for the crime. I escaped and took this sword. I fought them. I injured the younger one, and the old one tried to shoot me. He missed, and I swung my sword at him, but he jumped in the river. I tell you he jumped!"

Sochir looked quickly to Vshtin to see whether he believed the story.

The High Commissar was very still, his icy silver-blue eyes on Pookiterin. Pookiterin looked like he might crack under that gaze, but he managed not to, and presently Vshtin turned to Sochir.

"You will debrief him on his activities," he said, and he turned back to the car.

"We should track these so-called agents," said Sochir. "If that's what they are!"

"Leave that to the local authorities," said Vshtin. "They know the territory."

And since he gave no orders to Rozinshura, the captain took it that Vshtin did not care whether the fugitives were found or not.

Pookiterin stepped forward eagerly. Perhaps he would get away with murder, but probably not. He was unlikely to stand up to interrogation. He'd tell everything he knew of the plot and more. The only question was whether the interrogators wanted to know the answers.

But for his knowledge, Pookiterin got to ride in the car, with Vshtin and the bodyguards, while Rozinshura and Tralkulo were left on the road. Sochir and his security men went trotting back on foot.

Rozinshura sent Tralkulo down to the dock to look around. She returned and reported that there was some blood on the gravel, but none on the dock. Also there was no body floating in the still water around the boats, which there should be if the man fell in dead.

"Then perhaps they escaped," said Rozinshura. He felt much better at that prospect.

"Should I fetch a troop to track them?"

"In the morning," said Rozinshura. "It's too dark to track."

"They might take a boat in the night and escape."

"That would be wise of them," agreed Rozinshura.

He sighed and turned away and started to limp toward home. Whoever was injured, he hoped it was not serious. The old man clearly needed some watching, and Rozinshura had no desire to find them, dead or alive.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Episode 42 - The Mentor

* * *

ALEX HAD NO idea where to go, but he supposed that was all right because he couldn't actually _go_ any place anyway.

His sprained left ankle hurt like hell, so maybe it was broken. The cut on his right leg was still oozing blood, though, so it was more important. He used the large handkerchief he found in the pocket of Pookiterin's uniform to tie up his leg.

He hadn't heard much of the fuss that went on up on the road above. He just saw a lone soldier come down and cast about. She spotted the blood trail, but didn't follow it. She had gone away. They'd be looking for him in the morning most likely.

And he couldn't move. Not much anyway. He might make it to one of the boats that were tied up by the little dock. It was the only way he would get very far on that ankle... but he didn't know where he would be going. Had no plan.

It seemed like it would be better to try to find Lina. She said he'd never find her, but she also said she lived in the village near the wreck... but he didn't know if she was telling the truth.

Or he could make his way back to the kitchen in the inn, and throw himself on Niko's mercy. Niko would at least feed him. Alex realized he was starving, and exhausted, and thirsty. He didn't know if he could make it up the steps, let alone back to the inn. And they'd probably arrest him.

He lay there in the dark under that upturned boat and considered ripping apart the jacket to make a pressure bandage for his ankle, but he was too cold.

Then he heard the sound. It was an odd sound; familiar and yet wrong. Footsteps on gravel and something... crinkly. Like plastic sheeting.

The footsteps crunched closer, and a small light played across the ground. Alex couldn't see anything but dark feet and that light that flicked back and forth; a flashlight or lamp following the blood trail. Had the soldier come back?

Alex tensed, and tried not to make a sound as he strained to see more. The feet came to a stop beside the boat, and something dropped loudly to the ground.

It was a plastic zip-top freezer bag, wet but sealed up, with a first aid kit and a roll of duct tape inside.

"Alex?" said a voice. It was Thorny.

Alex rolled out from under the lee of the boat and Thorny knelt down. He was dripping wet, but he had another plastic bag with more first aid supplies: hand sanitizer, a towel, scissors.

"Thank God you're alive," he said. "How badly are you hurt?"

"Just a bad cut to my leg and a sprained ankle."

Thorny was unpacking his medical supplies. "We'll get it bandaged, and then we'll waterproof it with the duct tape. This river might be clean enough, but that muddy river back home... You don't want that water getting at the wound."

"Thorny, I'm not going back," said Alex. "This is home."

Thorny looked at him firmly. "You need urgent care. The emergency room. And, frankly my boy, you are not ready for this yet."

" _I'm_ not ready?"

"Not yet," said Thorny. "Listen to me. I am your teacher. Your aunt told you you'd jump in the lake when you were ready, didn't she? Well, _you_ didn't jump in the lake. I did. You did a fine job of getting me out of trouble, but you are not ready for this. Not, at least, until your leg heals up, and we have a chance to settle our affairs. I don't know how long it will take to sell my house in this market..."

"Sell your house? Thorny _you_ don't belong here."

"Nonsense! Anyone with heart belongs here," declared the professor. Then he went on in a hushed voice. "This is the best thing that ever happened to... to anyone. Certainly to me. You can't shut me out of it. You can't leave me to explain your disappearance to the police, when you were last seen in my company. You can't do that to me."

He paused and examined Alex's wound in the light of the flashlight.

"Besides, I have a plan," he said. "I've been thinking about that paper you wrote, and what most of those heroes have in common. They're all rich. Zorro, Batman, the Scarlet Pimpernel; they all have enormous fortunes. That's what we need, Alex. That will allow us to do anything."

"They all inherited a fortune from their parents."

"And so did you, didn't you?"

"In American money. I can't use that here. There's no rate of exchange...."

"But there is!" said Thorny. "The oldest money exchange in the world; Gold. We both go home, settle our affairs, sell homes and cars, pretend to have become paranoid survivalists, and cash our money in for gold."

"I can see us bringing hundreds of pounds of gold in our pockets. We'll drown."

"Diamonds, then."

Alex paused. That could work. Maybe not for an enormous fortune, but for enough to get them set up. And who knows, maybe they could make multiple trips....

"It's settled, then," said Thorny. "We'll get you home, and we'll both drink enough so that we can tell the people at the emergency room that we were smashed and tried juggling knives or something. And then while you're recuperating I'll sell my house, and you'll see if you have any of your aunt's things left. Perhaps she left some papers or something–"

"She did," said Alex. "I thought they were notes for a novel."

"Excellent! That will be our first priority, then. Do our homework. You'll have to teach me some of the lingo, too."

By the time they were done talking, Thorny had the leg bandaged tightly, and sealed it with duct tape. They taped up the ankle too, and with Thorny's help, Alex was able to hobble to the dock and look down in the water. He wasn't wearing the ring, and so he couldn't see any but one reflection, that of the Awarshi rocks and boats and woods.

He almost pulled back, thinking again about how he was home and how he didn't know if he would be able to get back, but Thorny locked arms with him, and tipped them in. Alex had time to think:

"I will come back. I will–"

Then they entered the water without a splash.

* * *

back to Table of Contents

### Epilogue/Teaser - And What About Lina?

* * *

LINA WAITED IN the shadows near the inn for Captain Rozinshura to return. He had not come back with the car. She didn't know where he was. She should give up and go back where she belonged, but she was afraid to. It was easier to worry about the book and the note and what happened to them.

Perhaps the captain had read it. Perhaps he had done the right thing with it – he would probably know better than she did. But she did not know that he had, and she wanted to fulfill her promise to the dying man. So she waited.

Presently Captain Rozinshura arrived, riding a sturdy little donkey he must have appropriated along the way. He rode to the back of the inn and Lina followed, sticking to the shadows, hoping she might blend in with the other soldiers who stepped out to talk to him.

She made her way closer as he listened to their reports. Before she could get close enough to try to pick his pocket, he sent the soldiers on their way. She retreated hastily to the shadows.

He sat there, on the donkey, alone in the stable yard, his head tilted as if he were listening. Had he spotted her? No, he tilted his head the other way and then after a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a book. It was her book!

He studied the book for a moment, and then put it back in the pocket of his great coat, and reined the donkey around and left.

She followed as they ambled back to the train station, and then beyond the station to the little warehouses along the tracks. He stopped at the shed where Professor Thornton had been locked in. There he dismounted, and took down the lamp from the post and went into the shed.

Lina ducked closer. The lamp cast deep shadows, so she took a chance and slipped inside. She wasn't sure what she was going to do. If she still had that sword, she would rob him, but perhaps she should talk to him....

Ah, but then he set down the lamp on a barrel and took off his great coat. Then he threw the coat over the barrel, picked up the lamp, and went to examine the spot where Professor Thornton had been held, where bits of rope and newspaper wrappings littered the floor.

The coat was in darkness. Lina slipped noiselessly to it and began to search the pockets. There was a large ring of keys, and gloves, and what felt like a bit of candy wrapped in cellophane... but no book.

"Baronessa!" said Rozinshura, without looking up from his study of a bit of newspaper. "I am pleased to see you."

Lina froze. He turned and looked directly at her. She hesitated, not sure what he knew or didn't.

"I have your book over here if that's what you are looking for," he continued. He picked up the book and waved it at her. "You are the Baroness of Beethingham, yes?"

"Oh, drat!" she said. And she stepped out of the shadows. He set down the book and consulted a little notebook.

"You are Lady Pauline Anne Marie Tritt-Woolsey Beethingham Smythe? Also known as... is it Pink or Plink?"

"I'm beginning to like Lina better," she said with a sigh. "How did you know it was me?"

"Mental brilliance," he said, and he shifted back to sit on a box. He gestured for her to do the same. "Once I knew the book did not belong to the old man, it had to be yours, yes? And it is an Imprish book, and the note is written in Imprish. Not like an Awarshi country woman would ever do. And it is written backwards, like the code in silly books like this. So it is someone who reads a lot of such books. Perhaps a foolish young noblewoman with romantic ideas who runs away with her dancing teacher."

"That could have been Miss Vilthrop."

"The valiant Miss Vilthrop, yes. She took a great risk for you."

"I know. I think she was actually trying to help the ambassador by distracting the bandits, but regardless it did save me. You could have done her the courtesy of suspecting she's the one who escaped."

"The bandits had her, they did not have you." He paused. "And also, the inscription in the book says ' _To your ladyship. Low fiction for the high born, your cousin, Basil_.'"

"So you didn't deduce any of this!" she said hotly. "You just read the inscription!"

He shrugged. "You may have your book back, but if you want the paper, you must answer some questions."

"You've read it?"

"Yes, and I reported the rumor of a coup attempt to Vshtin himself. However I did not report the names, since I didn't know if these people are in on the coup."

Pauline felt the tension go out of her shoulders. That was what she was most worried about. Some of the names were of innocents. The note by itself could cause arrests of the wrong parties.

"So it's being dealt with?" she said.

Rozinshura hesitated for a very long time.

"It is _known_ ," he said. "What is being done is beyond what you or I shall ever know."

"But still, it's over. I did what I set out to do. The message has been delivered to someone who can do the right thing."

"My dear Baronessa!" exclaimed the captain. "In Awarshawa, the right thing is not so simple. And the job for you and me is far from done. Do you think, for instance, that Pookiterin is competent?"

"No, he didn't strike me as being particularly bright."

"He's a brainless _fushtir_!"

She looked at him without comprehension, and he blushed a bit as if the word were not polite, and he struggled a moment to find a proper translation.

"He is a sniveling yes-man, who does whatever his superiors tell him. If you have an important plan, with train wrecks and kidnappings and a bomb and a coup, do you send a lap dog, all alone with only two guards?"

"I don't suppose you do."

"Unless.... you want him to be caught."

"So when the coup failed, they sent him here to set him up?"

"No, they sent him before the coup failed. There was no emergency. No reason to send a fool, unless they _planned_ to fail." He paused and held up the bit of crumpled newspaper. "But even that makes no sense, because this newspaper is from today. I think it was wrapped around the Cussar sword, which means it was brought here on this train. If this was part of a plan to frame Pookiterin, he should have had it from the start."

"So what should we do? What can we do?"

"First you must tell me how you came to write this note. Everything, every detail. And perhaps you should start with why you did not reveal yourself. It would have been much easier to simply say you are the baroness and not have trouble in the first place. Why did you disguise yourself, and then stay in disguise even when you were arrested?"

"It was jolly good fun?" she tried. He simply held her gaze and waited. And of all the people in the entire world... this fellow might be one she could trust. "Captain, I did not run away with my dance instructor. My dance instructor was murdered, and then I ran away. I think one of my own people is trying to kill me, or harm me, and I don't know why."

Rozinshura rubbed his head and sighed.

"This happened in Imperia?"

"Yes."

"And the bandits were looking for you here, so I think your murdered dance instructor is my problem. You must tell me the whole story..."

* * *

End of First Season

= * * * =

The second story in this series, _The Case of the Misplaced Baroness_ , is currently on hiatus on The Daring Novelist Blog. It will continue as a free, weekly serial in November 2013, and be published as an ebook some time after that.

= * * * =

Find more mystery, fantasy and adventure stories by Camille LaGuire at her website <http://www.camillelaguire.com/>.

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