The Consort, Chapter 17
Tuesday
Nobody brought him breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Cain was back to pacing, his stomach rolling with worry for Jeb, and his friends and co-workers, but mostly for DG. His confidence in DG was unshaken, but that didn’t stop his brain from conjuring a whole host of ways that disaster might have befallen his loved ones.
What if they kill her? What if she’s hurt? What if they take her prisoner and violate her? It’s been known to happen. He leaned his forehead against the cinderblock wall and pounded his fist against it in sheer frustration. He begged it to stop but his mind kept showing him images of DG being tortured, raped, beaten, the sheer horror of his thoughts a direct reflection of how much it would destroy him if anything happened to her. He felt like he could break through these walls with his bare hands and fly back to Central City on nothing but grim willpower, but his cell was as sturdy as ever, unimpressed with his anguish.
He sat on his cot, head in his hands. Please, please let her be all right. Please don’t let anything happen to her while I’m stuck in here. He formulated plan after plan for escape. I could overpower the guard when they come with food. If they ever come again. I’ll get out of the cell, find a weapons locker, shoot my way out if I have to.
The fact that even if he did get out, he had no idea where he was or how to get back to the O.Z. wasn’t entering his calculations. He had no choice. He had to think about getting out, because if he didn’t, all he could see was Spire Palace in ruins, taken over by Longcoats, and his wife dead or worse.
He tried to keep believing in her, in the Palace Guard, in Ambrose and Az and Ahamo. It won’t succeed. It can’t. That place is fortified eight ways from Sunday. But he knew Longcoat ingenuity, and it was hard to keep faith in the best-case scenario when the worst-case scenario would destroy everything you cared about. He’d already failed once to protect his family while they were hurt, and now it was happening again.
Finally, just when he was sure he was about to lose his mind, the cell door opened. It was Mynus, and a guard. The guard uncuffed Mynus and shoved him into the room, then locked the door. Cain rolled his eyes. He’d been considering going along with Mynus’ charade for awhile to see where it led, but he was way beyond that point now. He had no more patience for it. “You can drop the act,” he snarled.
Mynus frowned. “What?”
“How dumb do you think I am? You’re not a prisoner here.”
One eyebrow arched into Mynus’ forehead. “What makes you say that?”
“If you were a real prisoner they’d never leave you alone in a cell with me, and you’d never be spilling all this information about them to me, you’d be too afraid for your own life.”
“I’ve only tried to help you, General.”
“Kinda my point. They can barely remember to feed me, but they’re making sure I’m seen by a doctor every day? Bullshit. I was a Tin Man, remember? I know how it works. You want a man to talk, you give him a friend. So what’s the plan? You coax information out of me? You feed me crumbs so I think I can escape, then I get shot in the attempt? Why did you sons of bitches do this to me?” he roared, seizing Mynus by the front of his shirt.
Mynus seemed unfazed. He reached up and plucked Cain’s hands from his shirt and took a step back, then removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses. An attitude of cool detachment had slid over his face. “You already know why, Cain. Nejo told you why.”
Cain’ heard Nejo’s voice. There won’t be much fight in her left after that. “But why not just kill me, if that was the idea? Why keep me alive?”
“It hardly matters now, anyway. The strike failed.”
Cain blinked. “What?”
“It failed. My hand-picked elite squad of Longcoats were taken down like green recruits by that little slip of a thing you’re married to,” Mynus said, sarcasm lacing his voice.
A bubble of exultation rose in Cain’s chest, but he couldn’t afford to believe it just yet. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I do that?”
He had him there. “On general principles?”
“I can understand your inclination to mistrust me, but I assure you it’s true.” He stepped to the door and poked his head out, and was handed something. “See for yourself.” He passed Cain the evening paper from Central City.
Cain stared at it. A gigantic headline screamed at him, “LONGCOAT TAKEOVER FOILED.” A picture of the Spire accompanied the article, as well as…his heart caught in his throat. A picture of DG giving an address, sitting at the prop desk they kept for such broadcasts. She looked like she’d had a bad morning, pale and rumpled, but she was gorgeously, fantastically alive. He skimmed the article…small force of Longcoats had come from above, sealed off help from below, but the Queen and the Princess had used magic to neutralize them. He schooled his expression, not wanting to give Mynus anything of the knee-wobbling relief he was feeling that DG was safe.
The secondary headline down the page caught his eyes. “A Nation Mourns,” it said. His eyes jumped ahead, anxious to find out who had been killed…until he realized that it was himself. The text of an address DG had given earlier that afternoon was reproduced next to the photo of her. Cain read it, blinking back tears at her words. He was the most important person in my life. He was the best man I ever knew, or ever expect to. I will miss him for as long as I live.
He touched her image with one finger. You won’t have to miss me for much longer, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you if I have to dig my way out of here with a spoon, he thought.
He folded the paper. Now didn’t seem the right time to bask in his wife’s victory or her words about him. “So what went wrong?” he said.
Mynus sighed. “I’m man enough to admit when I’m in error, and I’m afraid I underestimated the Queen.”
“People do that.” Cain frowned. “If you were going to install a friendly ruler, you must have an army ready to invade. We never detected any such force on the Flornish border.”
Mynus arched an eyebrow. “Who says they were on the Flornish border? Anyway, I’ve already withdrawn all my forces, General, such as they were.”
“What, you’re not going to try again?”
“If I were, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. But no, I’m not going to try again. Not now, anyway. The climate is no longer suitable.”
Cain nodded, another piece of the puzzle falling into place. “You were counting on support from sympathizers among the population.”
“You are surely aware that after the Emerald War, there was still a fair amount of antipathy towards the House of Gale among your citizens. Many didn’t believe the story offered to explain the Princess’ possession, and many more didn’t believe that a girl who’d lived her life on the other side was fit to rule. Her marriage to you, a former Tin Man and a hero of the Resistance, soothed a lot of fears, but not all of them. I don’t have the manpower to mount a full-scale invasion. You’re correct. I needed support from citizens who’d be in favor of her removal.”
“But now…”
“Quite. That Otherworlder that so many mistrusted has single-handedly repelled an invasion attempt and come out victorious. Not to mention the overwhelming public sympathy for her grief. She’s lost her husband just when the whole Zone was thrilling to your newfound romance. There was a time when the people of the O.Z. might have supported her removal, but now? They’d follow her into hell. The House of Gale is a tower once more, and I will need more than some exiled Longcoats and the Flornish, who are known more for their delicious pastries than their military might, if I want to take it down.” Mynus didn’t seem at all disturbed by these developments. He was relating them almost cheerfully, as if his total routing was a matter of bemusement, a charming anecdote he was relating to a friend over coffee.
“Who are you?” Cain asked. “You talk of the Longcoats and the Flornish as if you don’t count yourself as either. I’ve never heard of you or seen you before, but you’ve somehow assumed leadership of the entire Longcoat expatriate army.”
Mynus chuckled. “’Army’ isn’t the word I’d choose, General. There are less than six hundred Longcoats in Flornistan, and they’re more a gang of thugs than a unit of military force. I’m afraid the best of them were among the palace strike force, and are currently sitting in one of your prisons.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” He’s going to kill me for real. It’s the only explanation.
“Because I thought you’d like to know.” He leaned forward. “I underestimated your Queen twice over, General. I’ve described the first instance. But I also underestimated her love for you. It is that, as much or more than her victory over my Longcoats, that has so endeared her to her people.”
“Is that so?”
“Everyone loves a love story. A beautiful princess needs a Consort, so she marries a handsome soldier, her longtime platonic friend and close advisor…surely you knew that the entire kingdom was watching you? Waiting for it? Examining every gesture, every expression, every word you said to each other?”
Cain’s brain was seizing up with retroactive mortification. “They were?”
“And then this,” he said, handing him a magazine with That Damn Picture on the cover. “This hit like artillery shells. Women swooned over you and wanted to be her. Men desired her and admired you. And you’re looking at me like I’m insane. How can you not be aware of this?”
“Well…I suppose I was aware of some…interest…”
“This goes beyond interest into national obsession, Cain. And only days after this picture, you are tragically killed in a heroic rescue attempt.” He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “You know, that silly bint of a chambermaid who took this picture may have doomed my invasion before it even began. If I weren’t in charge I’d surely fire myself for proceeding with it. I didn’t kill you to get information about the palace. I have plenty of sources for that. I killed you to destabilize her. It seems to have had the opposite effect, with the unfortunate side effect of causing the entire Outer Zone to clasp their Queen to their collective bosoms and bare their teeth at anyone who so much as looks at her cross-eyed. She is theirs now, General, in a way that would take me ten times the force to overcome, and there wouldn’t be much left of the Zone when the job was done.”
“You want me to believe that you’re abandoning your takeover plans? Which I’m not exactly clear about in the first place? And I still have no idea who the hell you are!”
“Who I am is irrelevant. I am insignificant. I saw an opportunity here and I took it, but the opportunity has passed. I’m finished.”
Cain sighed. “Just get it over with.”
“Get what over with?”
“Killing me. Aren’t you going to? Again?”
“On the contrary. I’m letting you go.”
Cain blinked. “Sorry, I guess us dead guys don’t hear so well, but…sounded like you said you were letting me go.”
“You heard right. What would be the point of holding you? You have no information I require. Your continued state of deadness only makes you a martyr and your wife a grieving lightning-rod of nationalistic fervor. You’re more dangerous to me dead than alive. So I’m giving you your life back.”
It’s a cruel trick of some kind. He can’t be serious.
“I’m quite serious, General.”
Shit, am I talking out loud?
“No, you just have a very readable face, if one is good at that sort of thing.” Mynus crossed his legs at the knee. “Actually, I was always going to let you go, General. Remember those sympathizers I was counting on? Well, their support might have swung away from me and toward a tragically-widowed queen even if they disliked her. I only needed you to stay dead long enough for the invasion of the palace to succeed, after which I was going to return you in such a way that the general opinion of your bravery and heroism would take a serious nose-dive, and rob the Queen of her sympathetic-widow persona. But, since the invasion didn’t succeed, there’s no point. So, off you go.”
“You’re seriously letting me go? After I’ve seen this place, and you…”
“You’ve seen nothing. You’ve learned nothing you didn’t already know, except things which no longer matter. You don’t know where you are, nor will you, and even if you were to find your way back, I wouldn’t be here.” Mynus settled back in his chair. “I’m not a heartless man. Nor am I a ruthless killer. I kill if it serves my purpose. To kill you would serve no purpose. It benefits me to send you home, and I’ll be honest…it pleases even me to let you return to the woman you so obviously love.” He leaned forward again and fixed Cain with a steady gaze. “But you won’t ever forget, will you? That you owe your life, and whatever happiness you and the Queen find together, to my generosity. Every second you draw breath will be a second I’ve allowed you to have. Perhaps I’ll exact a price for this someday.” He hesitated. “Perhaps not.”
Thursday
Cain was blindfolded and led to a room that felt like a garage. Echoey and raw-feeling, and reeking of motor oil, a smell he was familiar with by its frequent appearances on DG’s hair. He was loaded into the back of a car, which started up and rolled on out. He tried to discern some contextual clues to tell him where he was, but…the road sounded like road to him, and inside the car he couldn’t see or smell anything of the environment.
“How far?” he asked.
“Couple of hours,” Mynus said, from the front seat.
Cain mulled that over. Assuming they’d been in Flornistan, that put them…within a truly huge search area.
He sagged against the cushions, feeling abruptly exhausted. His chest still ached a little, but he guessed he couldn’t really complain of a little ache after having been stabbed and living to tell the tale. “Hey.”
“What?”
“You, uh…said you’ve got somebody inside the palace, right?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. They won’t make any trouble, and they’ll be pulled out before you get back.”
“Oh.”
There was a long pause. “If you want to ask how the Queen is doing, Mr. Cain, I’ll be glad to tell you.”
Cain hated the idea of asking Mynus for anything, but he wanted to know. He had no guarantee the man would tell the truth, but if he accepted that he was about to be released (which he still wasn’t sure about) then he’d have nothing to lose in being honest. “I don’t want to ask,” he grumbled.
Mynus laughed. “I won’t make you. My insider is on the housekeeping staff. All any of the servants can talk about is the Queen and her family, so I have excellent information, although I can’t guarantee some of it isn’t overblown rumor or gossip.”
“Understood.”
“They’re not sophisticated people, the servants in your palace. All of them are waiting on tenterhooks for some kind of grand, melodramatic explosion of Gothic mourning from the Queen. I don’t know what they expect. A tragic fit of screaming and self-injury, perhaps? That might satisfy them. At the very least they’re waiting for hysterical sobbing.”
“She isn’t the hysterical type.”
“Clearly not. So far they are disappointed. I don’t mean to say they have no sympathy, they do. They crave drama. They’re just not willing to look to find it.” He hesitated. “I am told she does not eat. She barely speaks apart from her official business. The only sleep she’s able to find is in your bed, and even then it is brief and troubled.”
Cain stared at the inside of his blindfold, his heart aching.
“The only solace she seems to find is in the hours she spends outside in Gale Square, with the people who’ve come to leave mementos for you and mourn with their fellow citizens.”
“Stop,” Cain said, unable to hear any more.
“Does it trouble you? It isn’t your fault, you know.”
“Yes, it is. She begged me not to come down here and I did it anyway.”
“You could not have done anything else, given who you are. You felt a duty to your son.”
Cain sighed. “My son is an adult, and there were many others who could have helped him as well as…no, better than me, because they wouldn’t have been emotionally involved or a target themselves. No one else can be Consort. My first duty should have been to the Queen and the Zone.” He shook his head. “I should have stayed in Central City and let my men do their jobs.”
“It will all work out all right in the end. Soon you’ll be back home and all will be forgotten.”
Cain wasn’t so sure about that.
“I’m told that there was some kind of incident with…dresses,” Mynus said, after a pause.
“Dresses?”
“Yes. I can’t tell you any more than that, if such an incident occurred only the Princess Royal and a few ladies-in-waiting witnessed it and they’d never tell tales. It’s only vague mutterings at this point.”
Cain couldn’t imagine what kind of incident there could have been involving dresses. “Anything else?”
“Well, let me see. The fact that they didn’t find your body is causing some difficulties.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t plan for that.”
“I’d planned for the invasion to succeed, giving us time to remove all the bodies from that basecamp, including yours.”
“Ah.”
“The Queen believes that your body was taken by Longcoats as some kind of trophy, and she’s demanding that the Prime Minister find it and return it to her immediately. I believe she employed a threat involving honey, fire ants and an armored tank division.”
Cain grinned.
“Another of your party survived the attack.”
He sat up straighter. “Really? Who?”
“Captain Armagnac.”
“Oh, thank God.” Cain had all but given up on anyone he’d come with having survived, apart from Jeb who he knew was already back in the City.
“A party from Central City arrived at the basecamp yesterday to collect the dead. They found Captain Armagnac barely alive. I’m told he’s recovering in the Spire.”
Anger rose in him. “Those were good men, all of them. They died for no reason.”
“Of course there was a reason.”
“Some bullshit strategy you were running that didn’t even work?”
“Precisely. But it was a reason.”
“Maybe you ought to kill me after all, before I get the chance to kill you.”
Mynus laughed quietly. “You’re not a man who tosses off threats with casual bravado, General, so I know you mean it. I’m not laughing at you. I find your remarks humorous for reasons of my own.”
“What, the idea that I could find you and kill you is so preposterous that it’s funny?”
“Hardly. I underestimated your wife, General, I won’t make the same mistake with you. Tin Men are hardly known for their towering intellects…but then, you weren’t any ordinary Tin Man, were you?”
Cain went very still.
“A fact I don’t believe you’ve revealed to either the kingdom or to your wife, have you?”
Keep your mouth shut.
“Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to respond. Nor do I blame you for keeping it to yourself. No one needs to know why you were really in that suit for eight years.”
“How do you know these things?” Cain hissed. Dammit, you were going to keep your mouth shut.
“I know a lot of things. About you, about your Queen, about your son, about your friends.”
Abruptly, the car jerked to a halt and Cain’s blindfold was removed. Mynus was sitting in the front seat, his back turned. He got out of the car and opened the door for Cain. Take him down. Just lunge at his throat. You could probably snap his neck before anybody could stop you.
Yes, you could. And what would be your chances of getting back to DG then? Is there a quantity less than zero?
He gritted his teeth and held his ground. Mynus handed him a bag. “There are fresh clothes in there, some food and money. You’ll start out on foot, but I’m sure you’re resourceful enough to acquire some faster transport along the way. Today is Thursday. In case you want to know, your public memorial is scheduled for Saturday, five o’clock, Gale Square. If you hurry you can make it back before they start commemorating you.”
“I still can’t believe you’re really doing this.”
“Don’t question it, General Cain. Go back to your life. I believe it needs you.” He nodded and walked past Cain back towards the car.
“Who are you?” Cain called after him. Mynus paused. “Who are you, really?”
The man turned back. “What makes you think I’m anybody?” He smiled, and gave Cain the high-sign…his first two fingers, swept down his temple like he was flicking away a stray hair, but deliberate, intentional.
All the air seemed to have left Cain’s immediate vicinity.
Mynus nodded, then got in his car and pulled away, reversed, and headed back down the two-lane backroad, soon disappearing around a curve.
Cain just stood there for a moment, still not quite believing that they hadn’t killed him, and seeing that high-sign again and again.
The last time he’d been surprised to see that signal, he’d lost eight years of his life.