Chapter Eighteen
It worked beautifully. Before they had finished more than a couple of verses in their impromptu song, the air before them shimmered, they stepped forward, and there they were, on the edge of the forest in the shadow of the trees.
Every time Taz and Sephie made magic, their control and their range improved. What would it be like once they were finally married and mated? Taz could only imagine.
“Let’s walk further into the forest,” he suggested, “then try to open Hebog’s message.”
He offered Sephie a hand and they followed the nearest path until they could no longer see anything beyond the trees. “Here will do,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Sephie. “Let’s add to the song our need to shield our working so no one else can detect it.”
So that’s what they did. Whether it was the forest, their shields, or the distance from Hebog’s village, nothing disturbed their efforts to remove the seals.
They made it through the first two layers, but the third seal defied everything they did.
They tried prying it off, then they attempted to break it apart. The seal held.
“How does anyone read these?” Sephie asked. “Does the recipient have a key?”
“Possibly,” Taz told her. “He sometimes uses a word or a phrase as a key.”
“Oh! Like Aladdin. ‘Open Sesame’. Try ‘Free Cymry.’”
Taz did so, and then ‘Cymry forever’ and ‘Our day will come.’” None of them worked.
Sephie had an idea. Hebog, from what she had seen, was very self-centered. “The red dragon,” she said, in Cymraeg. The seal shimmered and then settled. “I thought that might work,” she said, disappointed.
“The red dragon,” Taz repeated, though it sounded different when he said it. And when the seal disappeared, she realized that her pronunciation had been at fault. He looked up from the package and smiled at her. “Well done,” he said.
She smiled at him, then waved at the missive. “Quick. Open it.”
He did, unfolding it to disclose several pages creased together into a bundle, tied, and fastened with another seal. The same code phrase opened the bundle, too, and Taz read each page, passing it to Sephie as he finished.
A chill ran through her as she read. Each page was more appalling than the last.
“Taz, we cannot let this happen,” she said, after the first two pages.
“I agree,” he said, as he handed her the last page, which was a list of the dignitaries to be present in Brighton at the home of the prince regent on a date already noted on the first page.
“Dear merciful Lord,” she commented as she scanned the page, her eyes lingering on two of the names.
“Sephie, please believe me. I don’t agree with this,” Taz said. “I want Cymry to have its own parliament, but not this way. To kill so many people? Many of them innocent servants who just happen to be there?”
“And innocent wives, and possibly even children,” Sephie pointed out. “And my cousins, who might be part of England’s defense, but who have no say in government and who would probably support Wales if they did.”
The bundle had proved to be final instructions for a plan to blow up the prince regent’s house in Brighton on a night when the prince would be hosting many of the leaders of England—government ministers, other members of the royal family, titled nobles, senior mages, and more.
One page laid out the plan step by step, from the time the instructions arrived until the moment the perpetrators boarded the ship that would be waiting for them.
One gave the contact details for those not directly involved, including the suppliers of the explosives, the men who had access to the cellars, and the captain of the escape ship.
One listed those who were expected to be under the prince’s roof when the plot brought it down on their heads.
Code names were used for people, streets, and ships, but the general shape of the plan was clear enough, and surely any competent investigator would be able to capture or at least deter the conspirators?
Sephie’s first thought was to send the package to Cousin Jasper. Even if he did not believe it was genuine, he would surely investigate. But would Taz agree?
To her surprise, before she could make the suggestion, he said, “Sephie, I think we need to get this to the dragon lord.”
“Do you think he will believe it?” she asked.
“He cannot afford to ignore it. Sephie, write him a note. Let him know that we were sent to deliver this, but that we do not believe in the violence of the red dragon.”
Sephie shuddered, her mind revolting at the idea of exposing herself, even by letter, to Cousin Jasper’s well-deserved revulsion. “I would think he’d be less likely to believe something that came from me, when I betrayed him so.”
“Hush, my love,” said Taz. “You had to choose between the cause and your family loyalty. The family that had so misused you in the past, remember. And you did no harm to him or his wife and children.”
Her short burst of laughter was more bitter than amused. “Only because I got caught. What would Hebog have done with information about that meeting if we hadn’t been prevented from hearing it?”
“I dread to think,” Taz admitted. “Thank goodness we failed. Do you agree, then? You’ll write him a note, and we’ll translocate the package to him?”
She was going to have to do it. She owed her cousin honesty, if nothing else. “Do you have ink and paper?” she asked.
Taz had a notebook and a pencil, which would have to do. “After we send this,” he said, as he retrieved the items from his satchel, “we need to get as far away from Hebog as we can.”
Sephie had an idea. “If this forest will allow us to use the gate to return to the forest where Ligard and Acha live, we would be safe there.”
“But they turned us out,” Taz objected.
“And may do so again,” Sephie acknowledged. “But at least if they give us a choice of where we are turned out, we shall be away from Hebog.”
*
When he opened the door to his study, Jasper almost tripped over the package that had been leaning against it. He started back, but a cautious and then closer examination showed the only magic was a spell keyed to him.
“Jasper? What’s wrong?” Delia hurried up. “I sensed something has startled you.”
“Stay back, darling,” Jasper warned his wife.
“This package appeared by my door. I’m not certain that it is safe.
” Sometimes, Delia’s awareness of him and all her loved ones could be inconvenient.
Jasper should have thought to reassure her by mind link before she came looking to see what had him worried.
“There is a spell on it,” Delia commented. “But it doesn’t feel dangerous.”
Jasper had already detected the spell. “It’s a concealment spell.
To be more precise, it is a ‘do not notice me unless you are Jasper’ spell, and now that I am here, it is already fading.
” He frowned at the parcel as if it was a personal offense, and that was how he felt.
What mage dared drop a package at the very door of his study?
“Oh yes, I see,” said Delia. “I do not sense any harm in it, Jasper.”
“Unless the harm is inside the package, and hidden by magic,” Jasper cautioned. “Delia, I am going to take it to my tower to open. If I solemnly promise to come and tell you all about it as soon as I am done, will you leave it to me?”
She reluctantly agreed, but reminded him not to keep her waiting, and as it turned out, he joined her in her little sitting room not three quarters of an hour after he’d carried the package off to the tower.
“Delia,” he said, without preamble, “the package contained a letter from Persephone, and what purports to be three pages of plans to blow up the prince regent’s house in Brighton with him in it, plus you and me, and a good chunk of the political, magical, and religious leaders of our country.”
Delia blinked at him. “Persephone means to blow up the prince regent’s house?”
“If her letter is to be believed, she means to stop it. Or she means me to stop it, at least. Here. Read her letter.”
It was written in pencil on paper that looked as if it had been torn out of one of those notebooks printers made from offcuts left after a print project. Both sides had been closely written, but the message was quite short, and Jasper could remember every word.
To my esteemed cousin, Lord Baradine
First, please allow me to apologize for betraying your hospitality. I believed and still believe that the cause of freedom for Wales merited my behavior, but I deeply regret the necessity of lying to you and your lady, especially since you were so kind to me.
I hope the fact my colleague and I found out nothing of significance will incline you to feel more kindly toward us.
The enclosed plans are far beyond anything that my colleague and I consider justified in the cause. We want freedom, but not at the cost of innocent lives. When the plans came into our hands, we became determined to pass them to you so you could stop the evil men who would do such dreadful things.
I remain your most grateful and appreciative cousin,
Persephone Thornton
“Her heart is in the right place,” Delia commented, as she put their cousin’s letter to one side.
“So she says,” grumbled Jasper. “It remains to be seen if it is all true. It could be a trap.” He didn’t think it was, but Persephone had not proven herself trustworthy in the past.
Delia was looking through the remaining pages, her eyes widening and color leaving her face. “If this is true, it is horrific,” she said.
“I shall have to report it, of course,” said Jasper. “And check it out. So much for our quiet evening at home, dearest heart.”
“Another time,” said Delia. “The children and I shall be here when you return, my love.”
Jasper kissed her, but his mind was already planning who he would need to see and the orders he would need to give. Translocation would be faster than flying, and save the trouble of either having to carry a bag of clothes or land somewhere he had a change of clothing stored.
“Uncle Findlater’s first, I think,” he said, as he tucked the package into a dispatch case, locked the dispatch case to his wrist, and stepped through null-space to the Duke of Findlater’s mansion in London.